 | Songs, comic and satyrical |  |
A CARICATURE.
Man's all contradiction, a medly machine,
Now this thing, and now he is that;
To-day all in spirits, to-morrow all spleen,
The next, knows not what to be at.
Now this thing, and now he is that;
To-day all in spirits, to-morrow all spleen,
The next, knows not what to be at.
When in love,—how he labours the prize to obtain,
If luck'ly, he draws Beauty's lot,
He'll hate what he has, nay, possession's a pain,
And he's mad to have what he has not.
If luck'ly, he draws Beauty's lot,
He'll hate what he has, nay, possession's a pain,
And he's mad to have what he has not.
124
When the wind's in the East, sad and sick of his life,
As if under spell of Queen Mab;
He is always at home Sir John Brute to his wife,
Abroad, Jerry Sneak to his drab.
As if under spell of Queen Mab;
He is always at home Sir John Brute to his wife,
Abroad, Jerry Sneak to his drab.
At the tavern he'll prove all religion is art,
And laughs at Eternity's doom;
But in bed, when alone in the dark, how he'll start
If a mouse only moves in the room.
And laughs at Eternity's doom;
But in bed, when alone in the dark, how he'll start
If a mouse only moves in the room.
He swears, aye, and loudly, that he will be free,
Nay, die, e'er his country disgrace;
Confusion to Ministers! drinks on his knee,
Then, rising, runs off for a place.
Nay, die, e'er his country disgrace;
Confusion to Ministers! drinks on his knee,
Then, rising, runs off for a place.
Wives, sisters, or daughters, wherever he stays,
A prey for debauch he intends;
Proper gratitude thus for his welcome he pays,
It is right to be fond of one's friends.
A prey for debauch he intends;
Proper gratitude thus for his welcome he pays,
It is right to be fond of one's friends.
Shou'd pique prompt his spouse to retaliate in kind,
He'll bellow death, vengeance, and all;
My pistols bring quick!—but, quick changing his mind,
On his Proctor, imprimis, he'll call.
He'll bellow death, vengeance, and all;
My pistols bring quick!—but, quick changing his mind,
On his Proctor, imprimis, he'll call.
When maudlin at night, as 'tis nightly the case,
How loving the creature appears;
While drops from dim eyes trickle down his smear'd face,
And hickups keep time to his tears.
How loving the creature appears;
While drops from dim eyes trickle down his smear'd face,
And hickups keep time to his tears.
Foolish friendships he'll proffer, and fulsome repeat,
But the zeal of the night snor'd away;
For his interest, indeed, he to-morrow may meet,
If not, he don't know you next day.
But the zeal of the night snor'd away;
For his interest, indeed, he to-morrow may meet,
If not, he don't know you next day.
Not the best of us all, not a man is exempt,
If ourselves we impartially scan;
We are objects for Pity, or else for Contempt;
Misconduct is master of man.
If ourselves we impartially scan;
We are objects for Pity, or else for Contempt;
Misconduct is master of man.
125
As against our own wills we are tumbled to town,
So reluctant again we go out;
In chacing and changing that will up and down,
We Wisdomites blunder about.
So reluctant again we go out;
In chacing and changing that will up and down,
We Wisdomites blunder about.
Still blunder we must, and we're born but to dye,
And as wise in the dark as the light;
But drinking, my bucks, all mistakes we defy;
Here's a bumper to prove ourselves right.
And as wise in the dark as the light;
But drinking, my bucks, all mistakes we defy;
Here's a bumper to prove ourselves right.
| Songs, comic and satyrical | |