She call'd a pretty painted cloud,
The brightest of the wand'ring crowd,
For she you know is queen o' th' air,
And all the clouds and vapours there
Governs at will, by nod or summons,
As Walpole does the house of commons.
This cloud which came to her stark naked,
She dress'd as fine as hands could make it.
From her own wardrobe out she brought
Whate'er was dainty, wove or wrought.
A smock which Pallas spun and gave her
Once on a time to gain her favour;
A gown that ha'n't on earth its fellow,
Of finest blue and lined with yellow,
Fit for a Goddess to appear in,
And not a pin the worse for wearing.
A quilted petticoat beside,
With whalebone hoop six fathom wide.
With these she deck'd the cloud, d'ye see?
As like herself, as like cou'd be:
So like, that cou'd not I or you know
Which was the cloud, and which was Juno.
Thus dress'd she sent it to the villain,
To let him act his wicked will on:
Then laugh'd at the poor fool aloud,
Who for a Goddess grasp'd a cloud.