Mirth and Metre consisting of Poems, Serious, Humorous, and Satirical; Songs, Sonnets, Ballads & Bagatelles. Written by C. Dibdin, Jun |
PRIZE CATTLE. |
Mirth and Metre | ||
194
PRIZE CATTLE.
Name of Antler I bear, I came from Horn fair,
I physic, bleed, blister, and scrub,
All the hornified state
Cow-pox propagate,
And am clerk to the Prize Cattle Club.
Tol lol, &c.
I physic, bleed, blister, and scrub,
All the hornified state
Cow-pox propagate,
And am clerk to the Prize Cattle Club.
Tol lol, &c.
Of Prize Cattle, know we've a fine list on shew,
Just ready to kill, roast, and boil;
Perfect pictures to view, the wags cry, that's true,
For they're all executed in oil.
Tol lol, &c.
Just ready to kill, roast, and boil;
Perfect pictures to view, the wags cry, that's true,
For they're all executed in oil.
Tol lol, &c.
This town you may dub
A Prize Cattle Club,
'Twill specimens plenty supply,
Doctor's Commons you'll find,
Abound with horn'd kind,
But the price is confoundedly high.
Tol lol, &c.
A Prize Cattle Club,
'Twill specimens plenty supply,
Doctor's Commons you'll find,
Abound with horn'd kind,
But the price is confoundedly high.
Tol lol, &c.
The French our prize meat
Sadly wanted to eat,
But peace cut the matter quite brief;
They made a strong pull,
To cut up John Bull,
And stew him to alamode beef.
Tol lol, &c.
Sadly wanted to eat,
But peace cut the matter quite brief;
They made a strong pull,
To cut up John Bull,
And stew him to alamode beef.
Tol lol, &c.
May exertions ne'er cease,
Good beef to increase,
For Britons that food orthodox,
For our fame without bar,
Couldn't fly half so far,
But she mounts on the wings of an ox.
Tol lol, &c.
Good beef to increase,
For Britons that food orthodox,
For our fame without bar,
Couldn't fly half so far,
But she mounts on the wings of an ox.
Tol lol, &c.
Mirth and Metre | ||