 | Songs, comic and satyrical |  |
TOM O'BEDLAM.
Bare-foot and head-bare, his blanket tight skewer'd,
Tom o' Bedlam paraded, erect as my lord;
The boys left their play, at his raggedness scar'd,
The mob, pity struck, at his misery star'd.
Girls laugh'd, and the fops, fashion form'd for the day,
Shrill screaming on tiptoe stole trembling away;
While infants crept close, in their mothers arms hid,
Tom, beauty-like mov'd, heedless what harm he did.
Tom o' Bedlam paraded, erect as my lord;
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The mob, pity struck, at his misery star'd.
Girls laugh'd, and the fops, fashion form'd for the day,
Shrill screaming on tiptoe stole trembling away;
While infants crept close, in their mothers arms hid,
Tom, beauty-like mov'd, heedless what harm he did.
Where's the Devil? quoth Tom, where's the Devil I say?
Good folks have you not seen the Devil to-day?
A brother, just cur'd, cries—“Where Old Nick does dwell,
Come hither, I'll shew you;—look, there is his hell.
Behold those round pillars with ram's-horns on top,
A palace some call it, I say 'tis his shop.
Attendance, Dependance, there move round and round,
And where such a dance is, the damn'd must be found.
Good folks have you not seen the Devil to-day?
A brother, just cur'd, cries—“Where Old Nick does dwell,
Come hither, I'll shew you;—look, there is his hell.
Behold those round pillars with ram's-horns on top,
A palace some call it, I say 'tis his shop.
Attendance, Dependance, there move round and round,
And where such a dance is, the damn'd must be found.
The fiend of revenge this vile torment made out,
'Tixt Hope and Despair, to hang souls up in doubt.
Expectation indeed may fill Vanity's head,
But poor must we live when by promises fed.
I honour the Great, who dare greatly behave,
I dissent not from pique, nor assent as a slave,
For Englishmen scorn base earn'd bread to receive,”
Such a damn'd life, quoth Tom, I'll be damn'd if I live.
'Tixt Hope and Despair, to hang souls up in doubt.
Expectation indeed may fill Vanity's head,
But poor must we live when by promises fed.
I honour the Great, who dare greatly behave,
I dissent not from pique, nor assent as a slave,
For Englishmen scorn base earn'd bread to receive,”
Such a damn'd life, quoth Tom, I'll be damn'd if I live.
That moment a Methodist came to the place,
Hair tuck'd behind ears, and Zeal's cant on his face;
He threaten'd, he groan'd, he grimac'd, and he whin'd,
The mad fellows mounted and seiz'd him behind.
The multitude question'd why he was us'd thus;
He has broke out, quoth Tom,—he's, you see, one of us.
To their hospital dragg'd him, he there was unloos'd,
Tom cry'd out—At Bedlam is Madness refus'd?
Hair tuck'd behind ears, and Zeal's cant on his face;
He threaten'd, he groan'd, he grimac'd, and he whin'd,
The mad fellows mounted and seiz'd him behind.
The multitude question'd why he was us'd thus;
He has broke out, quoth Tom,—he's, you see, one of us.
To their hospital dragg'd him, he there was unloos'd,
Tom cry'd out—At Bedlam is Madness refus'd?
His comate reply'd—Brother Tom do not fret,
The world only works now for what it can get;
Such sad objects as we are, it cares not about,
What has Interest to do, with us two, in or out?
But this a decoy duck, who brings in great gains,
And tunnels his hearers by turning their brains.
If he's stopp'd, folks will follow some mischief as bad,
For one way or other, the world will be mad.
The world only works now for what it can get;
Such sad objects as we are, it cares not about,
What has Interest to do, with us two, in or out?
But this a decoy duck, who brings in great gains,
And tunnels his hearers by turning their brains.
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For one way or other, the world will be mad.
Here's a bumper, my boys, may we still find the way,
To speak what we know, and to know what we say.
Ye big wigs of Gresham some nostrum compound,
To keep our heads clear and preserve our hearts sound.
May Greatness and Goodness as partners agree,
May our sons, like ourselves, social sing, we are free!
And may we, self conscious, presumption despise,
Nor e'er be so mad as to think ourselves wise.
To speak what we know, and to know what we say.
Ye big wigs of Gresham some nostrum compound,
To keep our heads clear and preserve our hearts sound.
May Greatness and Goodness as partners agree,
May our sons, like ourselves, social sing, we are free!
And may we, self conscious, presumption despise,
Nor e'er be so mad as to think ourselves wise.
| Songs, comic and satyrical | |