All the talents' garland or, A few rockets let off at a celebrated ministry. Including Elijah's mantle, the Uti Possidetis, and other poems of the same author. By eminent political characters. The third edition, greatly enlarged [by E. A. Barrett] |
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GREY'S LONG STORY, OR THE NEW MOUNSEER NONG TONG PAW. |
 | All the talents' garland |  |
74
GREY'S LONG STORY, OR THE NEW MOUNSEER NONG TONG PAW.
BY THE AUTHOR OF THE BULL OF POPE PIUS VII.
“An I have not ballads made on you all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison.”
Motto from Henry IV. selected by the Duke of Norfolk.
My good Lord, the Viscount,
Had a tale to recount,
And a long pro and con to go through;
But with iffing and anding,
And not understanding,
Neither he nor his friends what was meant ever knew.
O rare Monsieur Nong Tong Paw!
Had a tale to recount,
And a long pro and con to go through;
But with iffing and anding,
And not understanding,
Neither he nor his friends what was meant ever knew.
O rare Monsieur Nong Tong Paw!
75
So he draw up a Bill,
Such as, with Grey goose quill,
Ne'er was penn'd, for an Irish toleration;
Which turn'd all dissenters
At once to conventers,
By dispensing with faith in the nation.
O rare Monsieur Nong Tong Paw!
Such as, with Grey goose quill,
Ne'er was penn'd, for an Irish toleration;
Which turn'd all dissenters
At once to conventers,
By dispensing with faith in the nation.
O rare Monsieur Nong Tong Paw!
But honey, cried Pat,
I ne'er ask'd for that,
And John Bull ask'd for nothing—confound 'em!
But to leave us alone,
With the King on the Throne,
Our religion and laws as they found 'em.
O poor Monsieur Nong Tong Paw!
I ne'er ask'd for that,
And John Bull ask'd for nothing—confound 'em!
But to leave us alone,
With the King on the Throne,
Our religion and laws as they found 'em.
O poor Monsieur Nong Tong Paw!
At this Grenville swore
(Though so pious before)
That Statesman or Saint it would ruffle,
To be dragg'd in a fray
By this blundering Grey,
And be stript to the skin in the scuffle;
This comes of your Nong Tong Paw.
(Though so pious before)
That Statesman or Saint it would ruffle,
To be dragg'd in a fray
By this blundering Grey,
And be stript to the skin in the scuffle;
This comes of your Nong Tong Paw.
76
Cries Whitbread, This ruin
Is all of your brewing,
With your bitters you've spoil'd the whole vat;
Had you learnt to admire
Church and King's old entire,
We had ne'er been thus stale all and flat.
O flat Monsieur Nong Tong Paw!
Is all of your brewing,
With your bitters you've spoil'd the whole vat;
Had you learnt to admire
Church and King's old entire,
We had ne'er been thus stale all and flat.
O flat Monsieur Nong Tong Paw!
Friend Howick, quoth Sherry,
This farce is not merry,
We're hiss'd by box, gallery, and pit;
To exit our crew,
And what would you all do,
Like me, must you live on your wit?
Alas, Monsieur Nong Tong Paw!
This farce is not merry,
We're hiss'd by box, gallery, and pit;
To exit our crew,
And what would you all do,
Like me, must you live on your wit?
Alas, Monsieur Nong Tong Paw!
Says Master Finance,
You've call'd the wrong dance,
And the ball is broke up 'midst your parley;
Instead of “John Bull,”
Your solemn numskull
Has bawl'd “O'er the water to Charley:”
A plague of your Nong Tong Paw!
You've call'd the wrong dance,
And the ball is broke up 'midst your parley;
Instead of “John Bull,”
Your solemn numskull
Has bawl'd “O'er the water to Charley:”
A plague of your Nong Tong Paw!
77
Nor waltz nor allemand
Could you understand,
Your cotillon with blunders abounded;
Your Scotch steps were bad,
Irish shuffle quite mad,
And our dance prov'd confusion confounded;
So we're out with your Nong Tong Paw.
Could you understand,
Your cotillon with blunders abounded;
Your Scotch steps were bad,
Irish shuffle quite mad,
And our dance prov'd confusion confounded;
So we're out with your Nong Tong Paw.
Now Patriots all,
Be warn'd by this fall,
And take as the surest of rules,
That to 'mine Church and Throne,
Though to the work prone,
A blunderer's the worst of all fools:
O poor Monsieur Nong Tong Paw.
Be warn'd by this fall,
And take as the surest of rules,
That to 'mine Church and Throne,
Though to the work prone,
A blunderer's the worst of all fools:
O poor Monsieur Nong Tong Paw.
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