The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] ... With a Copious Index. To which is prefixed Some Account of his Life. In Four Volumes |
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The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | ||
‘But they were paid in their own coin again,
For clawing the poor creature—huffing, snubbing;
For, with their sticks, with all their might and main,
The good young gownsmen gave the brutes a drubbing.
For clawing the poor creature—huffing, snubbing;
For, with their sticks, with all their might and main,
The good young gownsmen gave the brutes a drubbing.
‘Oh, gemini! how I should like to spin
A hempen cord th' unnatural rogues to throttle,
That give up beauty for a glass of gin,
And leave nice girls to hug a nasty bottle!
A hempen cord th' unnatural rogues to throttle,
That give up beauty for a glass of gin,
And leave nice girls to hug a nasty bottle!
‘But some low fellows—wretches, let me say
(But not my Hobby, I am proud to think),
Think eyes were only made to see their way,
And mouths for nothing else but meat and drink.
(But not my Hobby, I am proud to think),
Think eyes were only made to see their way,
And mouths for nothing else but meat and drink.
‘The very birds their time on love employ;
And see our pigeons how they kiss and coo,
And nod, and bill, and flap their wings for joy,
And fondly whisper, Dovey, how d'ye do?
And see our pigeons how they kiss and coo,
And nod, and bill, and flap their wings for joy,
And fondly whisper, Dovey, how d'ye do?
‘When Hobby leaves me with a kiss and squeeze,
All brisk as bees my spirits in a minute,
I twirl my mop about with so much ease,
And scrub and sing away like any linnet.
All brisk as bees my spirits in a minute,
I twirl my mop about with so much ease,
And scrub and sing away like any linnet.
‘With such good will, indeed, I do my work,
Thinking of Hob's caresses all the while,
I feel my heart a-dancing light as cork,
And feed the pigs and poultry with a smile.
Thinking of Hob's caresses all the while,
I feel my heart a-dancing light as cork,
And feed the pigs and poultry with a smile.
‘This, this I swear—Though hungry as a hound,
The stomach shall not steal the bosom's bliss;
True to Love's passion shall these lips be found,
And lose ev'n beans and bacon for a kiss.’
The stomach shall not steal the bosom's bliss;
True to Love's passion shall these lips be found,
And lose ev'n beans and bacon for a kiss.’
The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | ||