1.
Dost ask, dear Captain, why from Syme
I have no invitation,
When well he knows he has with him
My first friends in the nation?
2.
Is it because I love to toast,
And round the bottle hurl?
No! there conjecture wild is lost,
For Syme, by God, 's no churl!
3.
Is't lest with bawdy jests I bore,
As oft the matter of fact is?
No! Syme the theory can't abhor -
Who loves so well the practice.
4.
Is it a fear I should avow
Some heresy seditious?
No! Syme (but this is entre nous)
Is quite an old Tiresias.

(Note :- Tiresias was a blind soothsayer of Thebes.)

5.
In vain Conjecture thus would flit
Thro' mental clime and season:
In short, dear Captain, Syme's a Wit -
Who asks of Wits a reason?
6.
Yet must I still the sort deplore
That to my griefs adds one more,
In balking me the social hour
With you and noble Kenmure.

Do you ask, dear Captain, why from Syme
I have no invitation,
When well he knows he has with him
My first friends in the nation?

Is it because I love to toast,
And round the bottle hurl (pass)?
No! there conjecture wild is lost,
For Syme, by God, is no churl!

Is it lest with bawdy jests I bore,
As often the matter of fact is?
No! Syme the theory can not abhor -
Who loves so well the practice.

Is it a fear I should avow
Some heresy seditious?
No! Syme (but this is entre nous)
Is quite an old Tiresias.




In vain Conjecture thus would flit
Through mental clime and season:
In short, dear Captain, Syme is a Wit -
Who asks of Wits a reason?

Yet must I still the sort deplore
That to my griefs adds one more,
In balking me the social hour
With you and noble Kenmure.