The Songs, &c. in the Cabinet of fancy: or evening exhibition ::

I'LL sing you a song, and I'll sing all about it,
Or in tune, or out on't, you need not to doubt it:
My tune is—Tol lol, de rol lol.
What's under, or in't, wit may take it or rout it,
Perhaps has a meaning, perhaps is without it;
It may be thought smart—but that won't be a wonder;
It may be a single, or double entendre.
So—Tol de rol lol, lol de rol.

II

There are scurvy compounds of bon ton and fine taste;
Putrefactions to wit—and sense running to waste.
Like a reptile, poor Humour now crawls on the earth,
And Laughter, 'pon honour, is afraid of its birth.
Tol de rol lol.

III

I have laugh'd at Old Nick,
Gave the Devil a kick;
Punch, his arguments who could withstand?
Who would dare to oppose,
Why I pluck'd by the nose,
So had wit, sir, at each finger's end.
Tol de rol lol.

IV

The town's a raree-show, some say,
A rare shew for projectors,
What pity 'tis we spoil the play
For want of better actors!
But sometimes in, and sometimes out,
'Tis so upon all stages;
Folks will not mind what they're about,
But only mind the wages.
Tol de rol lol.

V

As to Shakespear and Purcell, why you may allow
They were well enough once—but they will not do now.
Ben Jonson was clever, just clever, that's all;
But Harlequin now, faith, is quite—tol de rol.
Sing tantarara, tol lol.

VI

I'll excel in Bon Ton, as Genius and Critic,
And be quite the thing, sir, “Immense Scientific;”
On all exhibitions give sentence by guess,
With shrugs, and stol'n phrases, that nonsense express.
Sing tantarara, tol lol.

VII

If Merit dare speak, and he's known to be poor,
Knock him down with a bett, then my triumph's secure;
For money's the thing, the grand thing that procures
Full work for the wits, when she forms connoisseurs.
Sing tantarara, tol lol.

VIII

But enough has been said, and enough has been sung;
Remember, dear friends, keep good watch o'er your tongue.
I have no more to say—to an end I am come;
My rhymes are all out, so I'll dance and be mum.
Sing tantarara, tol lol.
Sing tantarara, mum, mum.

University of Virginia Library

AIR VI.

[I'LL sing you a song, and I'll sing all about it]

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