 | The songs of Joseph Mather |  |
Song XIX. THE CASTIGATION.
My song is true, so let it pass,
A horse transform'd into an ass,
Not worthy of the meanest grass,
Produced by lanes or commons.
With Putty prim'd the other day,
He cock'd his tail, began to bray,
To th' Justice Clerk did trot away,
And there procur'd a summons.
A horse transform'd into an ass,
Not worthy of the meanest grass,
Produced by lanes or commons.
With Putty prim'd the other day,
He cock'd his tail, began to bray,
To th' Justice Clerk did trot away,
And there procur'd a summons.
The paper purchas'd for abuse,
He may apply to dirty use;
The brute is left without excuse,
Though destitute of reason.
Presumptious beast, insulting clown,
How durst thou look towards my crown,
Much less attempt to pull it down,
I'd have thee tried for treason.
He may apply to dirty use;
The brute is left without excuse,
Though destitute of reason.
Presumptious beast, insulting clown,
How durst thou look towards my crown,
Much less attempt to pull it down,
I'd have thee tried for treason.
Though thou display'st thy knavish tricks,
First bites, then turns thy heels and kicks,
E're long, I'll make thee carry bricks,
And to the coal yard send thee.
Thou animal, despised by hogs,
To thy round legs I'll chain two clogs,
And bait thee oft with butcher's dogs,
To see if that will mend thee.
First bites, then turns thy heels and kicks,
E're long, I'll make thee carry bricks,
And to the coal yard send thee.
Thou animal, despised by hogs,
To thy round legs I'll chain two clogs,
And bait thee oft with butcher's dogs,
To see if that will mend thee.
24
The Hawke that soars about thy house,
As poor as any pauper's louse,
For greedy of a little mouse,
Did villany exhibit;
That knave that's lost a tooth before,
That bird and ass that paid the score,
Bug, prick-ear'd Sam, and many more,
Deserve to grace the gibbet.
As poor as any pauper's louse,
For greedy of a little mouse,
Did villany exhibit;
That knave that's lost a tooth before,
That bird and ass that paid the score,
Bug, prick-ear'd Sam, and many more,
Deserve to grace the gibbet.
| The songs of Joseph Mather | |