Poems Lyrique Macaronique Heroique :: :: University of Virginia Library

Thou know'st, one dar'd, as well, t'have went in Hell,
As for to pass, the Souldiers Centinell,
No Letter, now (I'le hold a styver)
Goes without Bristol or Calyver.
And though surpriz'd th'are us'd, like sole on heel,
May be exchang'd, for a Broom-man Colonell.
But mine once snapt (as 'tis hap hazard)
Is prizon'd—'slid they'le flit her Mazard!
And faith! thou know'st, 'twould come but odd in,
To tear the sheets of Joseph Goodin.

But now it comes (pry'thee be more sweet
And stay here Jack and wipe thy forefeet.)
Now if belief, where faith and love is,
I've fed on nothing, but Anchoves.
And sirrah Jack! I think no body puts
In's belly better, then at Body cuts:
Come friend, 'twould make your Pallat water,
To dine on these, with sallat after,
I would the King (but Pox why wish I one)
VVould give such Topers a Commission,
A Friend of yours, I'le hold a wager,
VVould not be long, from being Major.
But yet (methinks) my Guts be lank yte,
I long for such another Banquet.

160

Our Food was sweet (beleive you that too)
But sower sance came with the Tattoo.
And yet the Rogues (if I may speak one thing)
Can't boast them Scot free, from our Reckoning,
Faith! I'de consent (if they would tarry)
That they should rent the Ordinary
We paid 'um well (yes ready down)
For every Pint, a good crackt Crown:
And (e're a Baker could have bolted)
The Pottle-pot, was 'bout their Jolt-head:
As for the Quart (e're we could end it)
One at the Captains head did send it.
Oth' Chamber-floor (howe're disgusted)
The Blood lay, thicker then the Dust did,

And now I think on't (Jack) my muse is
About to tell what more the news is.
The youth oth' guard (but smal friends) list ho!
Came not to suck the Milk of Bristo'
But oh! his scarf, his scarf! God bless us.
'Twas neither Red, nor Blew by J---
But such (although we car'd not for't all)
As oft hath frighted Bumpkin mortall.
View all the Colours, of Dame Iris,
View Pedlars Pack, what that same tyre is,

161

And if there be an odd piece, joyn't
See Shoe-strings, or see Cod-piece point;
I say, this Pedlar, nor that Rain-bow,
Did nere such Colour, dy'd in grain, show.

Twas Orange Tawny (Jack) yellow as saffern,
As who should say, no colour for a Taverne
And this must fright us sure we are all undone,
As Mortal fear'd, when Bul-Calf came from London,
Or else when Cromwel, riding Dun Mare's
Display'd his Tawny Colours, with ---

Well! somthing comes to Dore, with that, we cry all,
Curtis! Lay Kester down! unstring the Viall!
One bids the guard give fire, then blow their Matches,
Which we ne're thought to meet while we Sung Catches;
After some pause, (for this thou know'st would tire one)
He draws his Pistol out, his huge Cold-iron crimes,

You Rogues (said he) I will revenge these Grimes:
For I am sent from th'Guard by Good Man

162

Your Countenances shall look dully,
For want of Sack, to wash your Gully,
Your Carcases (without all Scoffin,)
Shall wish a Sack. But for their Coffin;
From your Anchores I'le you wean thus,
(Which fit you, for the Sports of Venus)
Your Oysters bought (I make no quarrel)
Somtimes ith' (Peck, somtimes ith' Barrel;
I'le send, to those well-minded Sisters,
That want provokers, more then Clysters.
Then't shal be said ('tis worth two shillings that
They are my Coolers, I their Billings-gat.

At this one night (brave Father Lasher,)
Our Major he, the Haber-dasher;
But to the Wise, one word's enough,
They swore Udz niggs, we swore Udz bluffe;
And, e're a zealous eye could twinckle,
Their Hands they shake, their Hams they crinckle;
In what a shitten-Case, I wisse now,
Was that same snivelling Coward Biscow,
VVhich faster ran, Spectator Poses,
Either their Heeles or else their Noses:
VVho scaped, to the Main Guard went
VVhich was of Grimes his Regiment.

163

Knockt to the Guard they come, and faith that was hard,
Not one of them, without a Broken Mazard,
And all away, in such post hast are gon,
As 'twere from Blincow, yes & Rowlandson.