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23

Cakes; or, my Eye and Peggy Martin.

Here am I so gay, I hope to make you merry,
Here are cakes—come, buy away, encourage little Jerry:
The world, you will agree, of things that's strange partakes, sir,
We're all one family, and like different cakes, sir.

(Speaking).
To be sure, there are your hot cakes, and your cold cakes; your flat cakes, and your sharp cakes; your dry cakes, and your shy cakes; your biscuits, and your avercakes:—For my part, I recommend every one of you, to—

Buy nice cakes I sell, they're genuine, I'm sartin,
But if the truth I tell, It's all my eye and Peggy Martin.
A coxcomb's head is chaff, like mouldy crust, won't bake, sir,
Too puffy he's by half, and therefore call'd a cake, sir;
While, the miser, lackaday's! a gripe-cake, you may trust, sir,
And, the best that you can say, he's but a mouldy crust, sir.

(Speaking).
I met a miser the other day—“Harkee, fellow,” says he, “Are your cakes made of the best flour?” Oh, yes, upon my honor, sir, says I. “D---n your honor,” says he. “When I was in trade I had no honor.” Egad, he had me there; however, I advis'd him, to—

Buy a nice queen-cake—they're genuine, I'm sartin;
But if honor is the stake, it's all my eye and Peggy Martin.
A sailor, like tea-cake, is moulded of the best, sir,
A bailiff, like a sea-cake, is d---d hard to digest, sir;
The doctor is an ill-cake, sure you will agree, sir,
For if he gives a pill-cake, he pockets snug his fee, sir.

(Speaking).
A german doctor came to attend my wife when she was dying.—“Ah! ah!” says he, “Dis is very bad country for de health—de people do die very fast here,”—Says I, doctor, I'll be oblig'd to you to tell me the country where the people do not die, and I'll go there and end my days. 'Gad, I had him there.—Come, says I, doctor,—

Buy my cakes, so fine—my wife's dead, I'm sartin,
For her to grieve or pine, is all my eye and Peggy Martin.
24

A prude, you know's, a dry-cake, neither bitter, sour, nor sweet,
A coquet we'll call a sly-cake, that none wou'd wish to eat;
A soldier is a rum-cake, who frightens well our foe, sir,
And, pretty miss, a plumb-cake, a bride-cake we all know, sir.

(Speaking).
Few females, I fancy, but what are fond of a bride-cake; though they all declare, “O dear! don't talk to me about husbands;—I hate the nasty men!—I'm resolv'd I'll never be married!”—'Till somebody asks you, says I.—That's right, miss, take my advice, and—

Bride-cake buy again—of this I'm sure and sartin,
If you say you hate the men, it's all my eye and Peggy Martin.
A lover is a lean-cake, soften'd by his fair sir—
And, beauty is a queen-cake, that drives him to despair, sir;
Of spices made so pat, a lawyer is a ban-cake,
His client is the flat, and, therefore, like a pan-cake.

(Speaking).
The law always bothers me—for it puts me in mind of a coffin—if once you get in, you never get out again—therefore, sooner than meddle or make, I wou'd advise you, to—

Buy nice cakes, regale—of this I'm sure and sartin,
If lawyers tell a tale, it's all my eye and Peggy Martin,
Now, to sum up all my cakes, and make 'em in one batch, sir,
May the devil that hard-cake, monopoly, once catch, sir;
In his oven, warm and deep, may he be bak'd secure, sir,
Whilst the wheat-cake may grow cheap, for to benefit the poor, sir.

(Speaking).
And there is not the least doubt of it, as long as we keep unanimous at home; and shou'd our enemies choose to be troublesome, why, I'll tell 'em this—

Our soldiers wou'd take heart, and our seamen too, I'm sartin,
Wou'd tell great Bonapart, it's all my eye and Peggy Martin.
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