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II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
XXXIX. |
XL. |
XLI. | SONG XLI. THE JUSTASS. |
XLII. |
XLIII. |
XLIV. |
XLV. |
XLVI. |
XLVII. |
XLVIII. |
XLIX. |
L. |
LI. |
LII. |
LIII. |
LIV. |
LV. |
The songs of Joseph Mather | ||
SONG XLI. THE JUSTASS.
When poverty puts off her habit of rags
She quickly turns tyrant and boasts of her bags:
'Tis always the case with the dung-hill bred train,
To give the community cause to complain:
The poor are oppress'd by their infamous deeds,
For what they take from them their luxury feeds.
I'll tell you an instance will wonder surpass,
The son of a baker is made a just-ass.
She quickly turns tyrant and boasts of her bags:
'Tis always the case with the dung-hill bred train,
To give the community cause to complain:
60
For what they take from them their luxury feeds.
I'll tell you an instance will wonder surpass,
The son of a baker is made a just-ass.
One Tuesday, behind a green table I saw
A grand ignoramus currupting the law,
I thought to myself 'twas a desperate case
To see a mule sit in a magistrate's place;
For want of a right cultivation at school
He acted like tyrant, and madman, and fool.
I ask'd what irrational rascal that was,
And found 'twas a baker's son turned a just-ass!
A grand ignoramus currupting the law,
I thought to myself 'twas a desperate case
To see a mule sit in a magistrate's place;
For want of a right cultivation at school
He acted like tyrant, and madman, and fool.
I ask'd what irrational rascal that was,
And found 'twas a baker's son turned a just-ass!
It was not by merit he rose from the mire,
Altho' he arriv'd at the pitch of a squire;
A wealthy old miser this upstart may thank,
Who rais'd him from indigence to this high rank.
It would be more proper for such a blackguard
To govern wild creatures, or be a bear-ward,
Than hector in court, while the men of his class
Spite the son of a baker turn'd to a just-ass.
Altho' he arriv'd at the pitch of a squire;
A wealthy old miser this upstart may thank,
Who rais'd him from indigence to this high rank.
It would be more proper for such a blackguard
To govern wild creatures, or be a bear-ward,
Than hector in court, while the men of his class
Spite the son of a baker turn'd to a just-ass.
He formerly travell'd the streets crying rolls,
With both stocking heels out, and shoes wanting soles;
But now the poor vagrant he'll send to knock hemp,
Forgetting his pedigree was of that stamp.
The people of Yorkshire will merrily sing
When upon a gibbet the rascal shall swing;
Jack Ketch is desirous to handle the brass,
For hanging the baker's son turned a just-ass.
With both stocking heels out, and shoes wanting soles;
But now the poor vagrant he'll send to knock hemp,
Forgetting his pedigree was of that stamp.
The people of Yorkshire will merrily sing
When upon a gibbet the rascal shall swing;
Jack Ketch is desirous to handle the brass,
For hanging the baker's son turned a just-ass.
The songs of Joseph Mather | ||