An Original Collection of Songs :: :: University of Virginia Library

While travellers of Paris prate,
And Rome, where mobs are undone,
I'll find a subject far more great,
At home, delightful London!
For all the world are shewn up there,
Such marvels are by none done;
There all that's right, and rich, and rare,
The treasures of the earth repair,
Delightful wondrous London!

Oh that's the town, for king and clown,
Of each sweet folly mother;
There, genteel houses, up and down,
All jostle one another.
There all the streets are ever full
Of people made and undone;
And Johnny Bull, walks, cheek by jowl,
With saint and sinner, sage and fool,
Delightful wondrous London!

There, generals from tailors run,
And bailiffs scare the boldest
And mama's dress, is so like miss,
You scarce know which is oldest.
There coaches, carts, and cabriolets,
By turns each other run down;
While stages, waggons, gig, and chaise,
And vans and drays, block up our ways,
Delightful wondrous London!

There, palaces and prisons meet,
Play-house 'gainst work-house labours;
And gin shops greet, sirs, in a street,
The pawn-brokers their neighbours.
Bazaars tempt country ninnyhammers,
Who're by their bargains undone;
With Panoramas, Neoramas,
Georamas, Dioramas,
Delightful wondrous London!

There honesty still goes threadbare,
And worth oft wants a dinner,
While vice can silks and satins wear,
And struts a saucy sinner.
There dashing bucks that walk in rules,
Old women knock, for fun, down;
With knaves and fools, and rogues, and tools,
And doctors, proctors, scorning schools,
Delightful wondrous London!

There many a shewy outside walks,
With inside monstrous hollow;
And many a pompous blockhead stalks,
While greater blockheads follow.
And empty cits, that pass for wits,
Prate wisdom with a pun down;
And each man as his fancy hits,
Is grave, or gay, or nought, by fits
Delightful wondrous London!

There still there's widows, mothers, maids,
All sadly husbands wanting;
At mornings frights, but changed at nights,
To angels most enchanting.
And villas, houses, shops to let,
With each convenience known, sirs,
That all perfection seem, but yet
You'll find, when once you in them get,
Are much best let alone, sirs.

New bridges, streets, and colliseums,
New markets, new hotels, too,
New club-houses, and new Lyceums,
New chapels, and new hells, too;
New hospitals, where crowds are killed,
And cures are none in ten done;
New churches, which by scores they build,
Although the old ones ne'er were filled.
Delightful wondrous London!

There's writing peers, and trading clowns,
Quack doctors, poets, lawyers;
Ambassadors from foreign crowns,
Flue-fakers, and top sawyers.
Fine lady-birds, great lords protect,
Who're made by being undone,
And journeymen who work neglect,
All through the March of Intellect,
Delightful wondrous London!

There's learned shoe-blacks, servant maids,
The first in fashion's flocks, sirs;

And beggars, who're such genteel blades,
They beg with double knocks, sirs.
There's remedies for each disease,
Great cures they've every one done,
And charities each woe that ease
With exhibitions all that please,
Delightful wondrous London!

There's porters with their “by your leaves,”
That in the kennel shove you;
Tax-gatherers, aldermen, and thieves,
And ladies that “my love,” you.
There's boxers, actors, sons of fun,
Ward, Curtis, Liston, Munden;
There's every virtue 'neath the sun,
And every vice, too, daily done,
In charming wondrous London.