A collection of comic songs written, Compil'd, Etch'd and Engrav'd, by J. Robertson; and sung by him At the theatres Nottingham, Derby, Stamford, Halifax, Chesterfield, and Redford |
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The Sensible Family.
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 | A collection of comic songs |  |
The Sensible Family.
Still with her tongue she clatter'd on,
Not with her knuckle and bone,
But with her tongue she batter'd on;
With cuckold, ass, blockhead, and drone,
And such like words she rattled on
Not with her knuckle or bone,
But with poker and tongues she battled on.
(Speaking).
But, poor soul! she happen'd to die one day, and went out like
the snuff of a candle, singing,
(Imitating Punch, the first part of the tune for chorus).
She, like the other, wou'd rule again;
A beauty by most folks she's reckon'd,
Though her frowns soon made me cool again:
Her beauty and charms, I vow,
Wou'd move the heart of any man;
She's as fat as a pig or a sow,
With a face like a well polish'd warming-pan.
(Speaking).
A dropsy carried her off, poor soul! and she left me one child,
and a sensible boy he is—Going to stir the fire, the other day, he lays hold
of the hot end of the poker, and as soon as he found it burnt his fingers,
d---n me, if he didn't drop it immediately.—Oh! he's a sensible boy! and
he can sing,
My person neglected strong taken too,
But Dolly's charms made my heart tingle,
And, my vow, like pye-crust, was broken too:
Her face, I must needs say, was copper-brown;
To be sure she was rather lop-sided,
With a short and long leg that went up and down.
(Speaking).
Poor creature! she left me one child, and a clever lad he is; and
writes two charming hands—one he can't read himself, and the other nobody
can read for him—but still he contrives to sing,
They took a trifle maintaining too;
With Hymen again link'd in bands,
My wife look'd rather disdaining too:
Her cash, like trout, I must tickle,
She's brisk, and forswears melancholy too;
Tho her walk's rather rumbusticle,
And her name's Gimlet-ey'd Molly too.
(Speaking).
She left me an only daughter—and the parson of the parish took a
liking to her—and what do you think she did? she mended the parson's
black stockings with white worsted, and sent him hopping to church like a
magpye.—Oh! she's a chearful lass, and always singing,
And I trust I may have occasion to
Raise a new race of recruits again,
To keep us from foreign invasion too:
She's a sweet-temper'd creature, good lack!
With a title I hope won't degrade her too;
For having a hump on her back,
Why, you may call her my wife or my lady too.
(Speaking).
I have but one child by her, and a sharp lad he is—Turning the
corner of the street the other day, he ran full but against an attorney, and
d---n me, if he has been able to speak a word of truth ever since—Having
given you a full description of my wives and family, I wish you cou'd see
us all sitting in the chimney corner, on a winter's evening, every one of us
singing,
| A collection of comic songs | |