To the only begetter of this ensuing sonnet Mr P LARKIN All happiness and that eternity promised by our ever-living poet wisheth the well-wishing adventurer in setting forth

They fuck you up, your Fathers and your Mums:
Their Birthright, Dowry, Heritage, and Lot
Of Faults, with further added to their Sums,
Pass down from what they had to what they've got;
These Faults, again, they gained from former folks
With humours quick to curse and quick to bless,
And they in turn, until their Caps and Cloaks
May find their Source in Eden's Nakedness—
Where, deeper than did ever plummet sound,
Rebellion did curse the Human Race
Its Misery to mingle and compound,
Save only for the Hope of Heaven's Grace;
Betimes— bestir— thou better hadst been gone;
And get thee to a Nunnery anon.