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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529941" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Corn and Catholics</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;What! still those two infernal questions,<br>That with our meals our slumbers mix --<br>That spoil our tempers and digestions --<br>Eternal Corn and Catholics!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Gods! were there ever two such bores?<br>Nothing else talk'd of night or morn --<br>Nothing in doors, or out of doors,<br>But endless Catholics and Corn!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Never was such a brace of pests --<br>While Ministers, still worse than either,<br>Skill'd but in feathering their nests,<br>Plague us with both, and settle neither.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So addled in my cranium meet<br>Popery and Corn, that oft I doubt,<br>Whether this year, 'twas bonded Wheat<br>Or bonded Papists, they let out.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here, landlords, here, polemics nail you,<br>Arm'd with all rubbish they can rake up;<br>Prices and Texts at once assail you --<br>From Daniel these, and those from Jacob.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And when you sleep, with head still torn<br>Between the two, their shapes you mix,<br>Till sometimes Catholics seem Corn --<br>Then Corn again seems Catholics.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now, Dantzic wheat before you floats --<br>Now, Jesuits from California --<br>Now, Ceres, link'd with Titus Oats,<br>Comes dancing through the &quot;Porta Cornea.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oft, too, the Corn grows animate,<br>And a whole crop of heads appears,<br>Like Papists, bearding Church and State --<br>Themselves, together by the ears!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In short, these torments never cease;<br>And oft I wish myself transferr'd off<br>To some far, lonely land of peace,<br>Where Corn or Papists ne'er were heard of.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes, waft me, Parry, to the Pole,<br>For -- if my fate is to be chosen<br>'Twixt bores and icebergs -- on my soul,<br>I'd rather, of the two, be frozen!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Moore">Thomas Moore</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529941" data-title="Corn and Catholics de Thomas Moore" data-description="&quot;What! still those two infernal questions,
That with our meals our slumbers mix --
That spoil our tempers and digestions --
Eternal Corn and Catholics!

Gods! were there ever two such bores?
Nothing else talk'd of night or morn --
Nothing in ..."></div>
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