The songs of the Wilsons With a memoir of the Family, and several additional songs never before published. Edited by John Harland |
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MEDLEY OF DEVILS. |
 | The songs of the Wilsons |  |
22
MEDLEY OF DEVILS.
By Mr Michael Wilson.
There are devils of all sorts, and of every rank and station,
Of every colour, size, and shape, and every persuasion—
To name them all's impossible, so I shall ne'er attempt it,
For, if I did, some people would by force of arms resent it.
Of every colour, size, and shape, and every persuasion—
To name them all's impossible, so I shall ne'er attempt it,
For, if I did, some people would by force of arms resent it.
CHORUS.
Black, red, and blue,There are devils of all colours and all stations too.
The lover he 's a whining devil—“Ma'am, I love you dearly;”
The usurer, that griping devil, pinches most severely;
The gipsy is a merry devil, full of tricks and fancies;
And, devil-like, the gamester risks his all on mains and chances.
The usurer, that griping devil, pinches most severely;
The gipsy is a merry devil, full of tricks and fancies;
And, devil-like, the gamester risks his all on mains and chances.
Chorus.
—Black, red, and blue, &c.
The soldier he 's a bold devil, fighting for promotion;
The senator 's a devil of a turncoat, I've a notion;
The highwayman 's a daring devil, loath you 'd be to meet him;
And the justice, like an overbearing devil, cries, “Commit him.”
The senator 's a devil of a turncoat, I've a notion;
The highwayman 's a daring devil, loath you 'd be to meet him;
And the justice, like an overbearing devil, cries, “Commit him.”
Chorus.
—Black, red, and blue, &c.23
The nobleman 's a haughty devil, privilege still boasting;
The miser, midst of plenty, like a foolish devil, fasting;
The conqueror 's a cruel devil, all for devastation;
And the landowner, that plundering devil, brings us to starvation.
The miser, midst of plenty, like a foolish devil, fasting;
The conqueror 's a cruel devil, all for devastation;
And the landowner, that plundering devil, brings us to starvation.
Chorus.
—Black, red, and blue, &c.
The patriot 's a bawling devil, all for loaves and fishes;
The player 's a diverting devil, form'd of various dishes;
The parson tells the devil of a story in a tub,
And the drunkard tells another devilish good one about bubb.
The player 's a diverting devil, form'd of various dishes;
The parson tells the devil of a story in a tub,
And the drunkard tells another devilish good one about bubb.
Chorus.
—Black, red, and blue, &c.
There 's one devil more, and the last one I shall mention,
The guard against our foes, and a terror unto Frenchmen;
While Briton's anchors he does weigh, in vain her foes assail her,
That darling son of victory—I mean the British sailor.
Honour is his due,
He 's the devil that supports us all the ocean through.
The guard against our foes, and a terror unto Frenchmen;
While Briton's anchors he does weigh, in vain her foes assail her,
That darling son of victory—I mean the British sailor.
Honour is his due,
He 's the devil that supports us all the ocean through.
| The songs of the Wilsons | |