The songs of Joseph Mather

When Sancho was a raw-boned whelp,
And lived in yonder jennel,
Although he snatched, the curs did yelp,
And chas'd him to his kennel.
When but a little snarling pup,
He thought himself most famous,
In that delusion he grew up,
Both fool and ignoramus.

CHORUS.

See! how he flees in mad career,
With Mammon for his backer,
Grac'd with a firebrand at each ear.
And tail a flaming cracker.

Now purse-proud, soft, and ignorant,
He instigates a faction,
Then tells us soldiers shall be sent
To keep us in subjection.
Oft private interest needs a tool,
To bring about oppression,
For that same end the red-hot fool
Retains his old commission.

And daily flees, &c.

By Chesterfield he took his round,
'Twas at the revolution,
And hunting in forbidden ground,
They sought his execution;
But mercy interfered that day,
Although he was convicted,
Which made presumption plumply say,
“This proves he is elected.”

Yet still, &c.

In quest of game by foul demeans,
A sacred place he rifled,
Where nine times twenty-five thirteens
Were altogether stifled.
His dragon's tongue with fiery stream,
Spued forth infernal slander,
Set all around him in a flame,
Like some hot Salamander.

See! how he, &c.

His gilded god keeps all in awe,
But speak and he'll indict you;
Approach his kennel, touch a straw,
And doubtless he will bite you.
But if you speak of oil or blanks,
Or mention whom he fleeces,
You instantly must shift your shanks,
Or you'll be torn to pieces.

For still he, &c.

Though he's attained to hoary hairs,
His heart is dark and callous,
And doubtless soon will say his prayers
Beneath some tree or gallows:
Then gladly for an iron suit
The public will contribute,
The surgeons need not make dispute,
For Sanc. shall grace a gibbet,

Nor longer fly, &c.

University of Virginia Library

Song XXVI. SANCHO.

CHORUS.