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Longing while living for laurel and bays,
Under this willow a poor poet 'lays';
With little to censure, and less to praise,
He wrote twelve dozen and three score plays:
He finish'd his 'Life', and he went his ways.

— Thomas John Dibdin

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More quotes by Thomas John Dibdin

Then a very great war man, call'd Billy the Norman,
Cried "D--n it, I never lik'd my land."

The Dons came to plunder the island;
But, snug in the hive, the Queen was alive,
And "buzz" was the word in the island.

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Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Thomas John Dibdin (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.