Songs, comic and satyrical By George Alexander Stevens. A new edition, Corrected |
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THE DAMN'D HONEST FELLOW. |
 | Songs, comic and satyrical |  |
89
THE DAMN'D HONEST FELLOW.
As a choice-spirit bred, so I'll choicely behave,
My bucks, I'm damn'd honest and free;
As to rules, thy're for fools; I'll be nobody's slave;
The Minister must do for me.
My bucks, I'm damn'd honest and free;
As to rules, thy're for fools; I'll be nobody's slave;
The Minister must do for me.
If he does not, nor cannot, for that's all the same,
But leaves me to sink or to swim;
If he won't do for me when I send in my name,
Why, damme, then, I'll do for him.
But leaves me to sink or to swim;
If he won't do for me when I send in my name,
Why, damme, then, I'll do for him.
If George did but tip me a place, or a post,
If I didn't clear all, I'll be curst:
I'll take care that nothing shall never be lost,
Of myself tho', I'll take care the first.
If I didn't clear all, I'll be curst:
I'll take care that nothing shall never be lost,
Of myself tho', I'll take care the first.
The Government's tools to a man I wou'd shift,
Corruption's the nation's disgrace;
The Treasury's Lord, why I'll turn him adrift,
And whip myself plump in his place.
Corruption's the nation's disgrace;
The Treasury's Lord, why I'll turn him adrift,
And whip myself plump in his place.
The national debt I'll wet-spunge it away,
The sinking fund that I wou'd drown;
And when we bold Britons have nothing to pay,
Why then all our money's our own.
The sinking fund that I wou'd drown;
And when we bold Britons have nothing to pay,
Why then all our money's our own.
As to Scotchmen, I'll scotch them all off, never fear,
They are Jacobites all to a man;
Pray tell me what business have such fellows here?
I'm a Briton, and hate ev'ry clan.
They are Jacobites all to a man;
Pray tell me what business have such fellows here?
I'm a Briton, and hate ev'ry clan.
They have nothing to do with our meat and our drink,
I grant you they're clever, but still
We're ten times as clever, if we wou'd but think,
And one time or other we will.
I grant you they're clever, but still
We're ten times as clever, if we wou'd but think,
And one time or other we will.
90
Like foxes I'll hunt Presbyterians to church,
For, zounds! we'll be all orthodox;
The subsidy Princes I'll leave in the lurch,
And stock-jobbers set in the stocks.
For, zounds! we'll be all orthodox;
The subsidy Princes I'll leave in the lurch,
And stock-jobbers set in the stocks.
My friends I'll provide for, and thus I'll begin;—
Arch-Bishop of York shall make room,—
His pulpit I've promis'd to my whippers-in,
And Lord Chancellor's seat to my groom.
Arch-Bishop of York shall make room,—
His pulpit I've promis'd to my whippers-in,
And Lord Chancellor's seat to my groom.
My grand buck at drinking shall Admiral be;
I've judgement in all I design:—
He surely must prove best commander at sea
Who's best at an ocean of wine.
I've judgement in all I design:—
He surely must prove best commander at sea
Who's best at an ocean of wine.
Now, as to land-service, Excise I'll disband,
And I'll banish the Watch from the street;
Betwixt York and Lunnon no turnpikes shall stand,
And I'll burn the King's Bench and the Fleet.
And I'll banish the Watch from the street;
Betwixt York and Lunnon no turnpikes shall stand,
And I'll burn the King's Bench and the Fleet.
As to smugglers, why curse on the Custom-house tribe,
Of placemen I'll soon make an end;
I'll hang the first fellow I find take a bribe,
Except 'twas a buck,—and my friend.
Of placemen I'll soon make an end;
I'll hang the first fellow I find take a bribe,
Except 'twas a buck,—and my friend.
So now for a toast—stay—what toast shall we have?
Why Liberty—can we say more?—
And he who won't pledge it I'm sure is a Slave,
And a slave is a son of a whore.
Why Liberty—can we say more?—
And he who won't pledge it I'm sure is a Slave,
And a slave is a son of a whore.
A wife to be sure! that's the fashion in town,
And fashion for wives to make free;
But I won't be humm'd, I'll have none of my own,
What friends have will always serve me.
And fashion for wives to make free;
But I won't be humm'd, I'll have none of my own,
What friends have will always serve me.
So here's to that girl who will give one a share,
But as for those jilts who deny,
So cursedly coy, tho' they've so much to spare—
But drink, brother bucks, for I'm dry.
But as for those jilts who deny,
So cursedly coy, tho' they've so much to spare—
But drink, brother bucks, for I'm dry.
| Songs, comic and satyrical | |