Scripscrapologia or, Collins's Doggerel Dish Of All Sorts. Consisting of Songs Adapted to familiar Tunes, And which may be sung without the Chaunterpipe of an Italian Warbler, or the ravishing Accompaniments of Tweedle-Dum or Tweedle-Dee. Particularly those which have been most applauded in the author's once popular performance, call'd, The Brush. The Gallimaufry garnished with a variety of comic tales, quaint epigrams, whimsical epitaphs, &c. &c. [by John Collins] |
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THE BOTTLE, A Song. |
 | Scripscrapologia |  |
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THE BOTTLE, A Song.
While nostrums are held out to cure each disease,
And to parry with Death, or with Pain, as we please,
The protracter of life, and preserver of ease,
I have ever yet found in a Bottle!
And to parry with Death, or with Pain, as we please,
The protracter of life, and preserver of ease,
I have ever yet found in a Bottle!
For when Care, like a clog, hangs about my poor heart,
And health from the burden seems bent to depart,
I the mill-stone shake off, and Death draws back his dart,
When he sees that my Doctor's a Bottle!
And health from the burden seems bent to depart,
I the mill-stone shake off, and Death draws back his dart,
When he sees that my Doctor's a Bottle!
And shou'd Love, whose dominion is ever divine,
Drench my doating fond eyes in a deluge of brine,
Ev'ry tear that I drop at bright Venus's shrine,
Let me drown in the tears of the Bottle!
Drench my doating fond eyes in a deluge of brine,
Ev'ry tear that I drop at bright Venus's shrine,
Let me drown in the tears of the Bottle!
And as Pride may prevail, where it ne'er shou'd take place,
Ere its impulse my portion of prudence disgrace,
Let me nobly renounce all her stiff-necked race,
To bend down the stiff neck of a Bottle!
Ere its impulse my portion of prudence disgrace,
Let me nobly renounce all her stiff-necked race,
To bend down the stiff neck of a Bottle!
Or shou'd Av'rice, the first of all vices I'd shun,
Shrink the cords of my heart, I'll bet millions to one,
That they soon shall expand, like the rays of the Sun,
And benevolence spring from a Bottle!
Shrink the cords of my heart, I'll bet millions to one,
That they soon shall expand, like the rays of the Sun,
And benevolence spring from a Bottle!
And when Time, with his Scythe, and his silver Toupee,
Wou'd my Spirits expel from the mansions of glee,
They triumphant shall float in a glorious Red Sea!
Which eternally flows from the Bottle!
Wou'd my Spirits expel from the mansions of glee,
They triumphant shall float in a glorious Red Sea!
Which eternally flows from the Bottle!
| Scripscrapologia | |