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 | Miscellanies (1785) |  |
SONG.
A POET there was, and he liv'd in a garret,
And he quaff'd poor small beer, tho' he sung of good claret;
A damsel he married both buxom and fair,
And she sigh'd and took on—for a chariot and chair.
Derry down, down, &c.
And he quaff'd poor small beer, tho' he sung of good claret;
252
And she sigh'd and took on—for a chariot and chair.
Derry down, down, &c.
One day as this bardling was scribbling a novel,
His fingers in ink, and his head in a hovel,
His spouse, in idea, was building a palace,
And tripping in fancy from Dover to Calais.
Derry down, &c.
His fingers in ink, and his head in a hovel,
His spouse, in idea, was building a palace,
And tripping in fancy from Dover to Calais.
Derry down, &c.
“Had I a good fortune, dear Rhimewell (said she)
I'd skim round the globe in my gilt vis-a-vis,
I'd have tassels before and gay trimmings behind,
And I'd move as I swung on—the wings of the wind.
Derry down, &c.
I'd skim round the globe in my gilt vis-a-vis,
I'd have tassels before and gay trimmings behind,
And I'd move as I swung on—the wings of the wind.
Derry down, &c.
“Here John, bring my carriage, and whirl me away—
First a stroll in the Park, then a peep at the play.
Now, ye gods! I'd step out, and now I'd step in it,
Change my dress, my diversions,—and man in a minute.
Derry down, &c.
First a stroll in the Park, then a peep at the play.
Now, ye gods! I'd step out, and now I'd step in it,
Change my dress, my diversions,—and man in a minute.
Derry down, &c.
253
“And would not all this, my dear Bard, be most charming?
To my pride be most soothing, to passions alarming?
And then as I sat in my delicate jacket,
How I'd fire all the folks with my—rattle and racket!”
Derry down, &c.
To my pride be most soothing, to passions alarming?
And then as I sat in my delicate jacket,
How I'd fire all the folks with my—rattle and racket!”
Derry down, &c.
“All this (said the Poet) is brave and uncommon,
And enough I confess to distract a fine woman;
But while you're thus dressing your heart and your head,
I'm digging away for our butter and bread.
Derry down, &c.
And enough I confess to distract a fine woman;
But while you're thus dressing your heart and your head,
I'm digging away for our butter and bread.
Derry down, &c.
“Since such is our fate, dame, I prithee be quiet,
For how can I write while you make such a riot?
Consider, good woman, we live upon verses,
And must only be poorer, while you talk of purses.”
Derry down, &c.
For how can I write while you make such a riot?
Consider, good woman, we live upon verses,
And must only be poorer, while you talk of purses.”
Derry down, &c.
| Miscellanies (1785) | |