In Lilliput I placed an order
Of the Smith who made the shoes
For the smallest Horses ever
Lilliput could draft to move
Our heavy loads of barleycorns
In wagons wheeled with half-acorns.
But, Sir, never
I did see Machines
Like yours of Brass, or Gold it seems
--Some whirring in the silent night
Whilst others pump all slow, aright
And fit to do the work they do
On air or steam or dreams anon.
I think they may replace the Horse;
Poor creatures, tiny, shod and cursed
To do our Lilliputian work.
Much better now that they retire
And have the Engines' day transpire;
Thus free the animals of pain
--Perhaps one day
Will Leisure reign
For Man and Beast alike.
To Our Giant who machines
A Team in livery full agleam!