MORAL.
Come, come, Mrs. Muse, we can't part in this way,
Or you'll leave me as dull as ditch-water all day.
Try and squeeze out a Moral or two from your lay!
And let us part cheerful, at least, if not gay!
First and foremost then, Gentlefolks, learn from my song,
Not to lock up your wine, or malt-liquor, too long!
Though Port should have age,
Yet I don't think it sage
To entomb it, as some of your connoisseurs do,
Till it's losing in flavour, and body, and hue;
—I question if keeping it does it much good
After ten years in bottle and three in the wood.
If any young man, though a snubb'd younger brother,
When told of his faults by his father and mother,
Runs restive, and goes off to sea in a huff,
Depend on't, my friends, that young man is a Muff!
Next—ill-gotten gains
Are not worth the pains!—
They prosper with no one!—so whether cheroots,
Or Havanna cigars,—or French gloves, or French boots,—
Whatever you want, pay the duty!—nor when you
Buy any such articles, cheat the revenue!
And “now to conclude,”—
For it's high time I should,—
When you do rejoice, mind,—whatsoever you do,
That the hearts of the lowly rejoice with you too!—
Don't grudge them their jigs,
And their frolics and “rigs,”
And don't interfere with their soapy-tail'd pigs;
Nor “because thou art virtuous,” rail, and exhale,
An anathema, breathing of vengeance and wail,
Upon every complexion less pale than sea-kail!
Nor dismiss the poor man to his pump and his pail,
With “Drink there!—we'll have henceforth no more cakes and ale!!
