An Original Collection of Songs sung at the Theatres Royal, Public Concerts &c. &c. By W. T. Moncrieff |
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“WHAT ARE YOU AT—WHAT ARE YOU AFTER?” |
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 | An Original Collection of Songs |  |
“WHAT ARE YOU AT—WHAT ARE YOU AFTER?”
I came to town, the other day,
To rest from all my labours,
And hear what cocknies had to say,
That I might tell my neighbours.
But all I heard, upon my word,
Was this, in every quarter—
Some bawling out, ‘What are you at?’
And some, ‘What are you after?’
With your tol de rol, &c.
To rest from all my labours,
And hear what cocknies had to say,
That I might tell my neighbours.
But all I heard, upon my word,
Was this, in every quarter—
Some bawling out, ‘What are you at?’
And some, ‘What are you after?’
With your tol de rol, &c.
At first I thought that they meant me,
And cried, ‘What's that to you, sir?
If you take me a rogue to be,
I'll let you know who's who, sir!’
So right and left, I laid them flat,
Says I, ‘You've caught a Tartar—
Now go and cry, “What are you at?”
And bawl, “What are you after?”’
With your tol de rol, &c.
And cried, ‘What's that to you, sir?
If you take me a rogue to be,
I'll let you know who's who, sir!’
So right and left, I laid them flat,
Says I, ‘You've caught a Tartar—
Now go and cry, “What are you at?”
And bawl, “What are you after?”’
With your tol de rol, &c.
But, 'cod! for constables they sent,
And lugg'd me off to prison;
I ax'd them, what it was they meant?
They said, to stretch my wizen!
They took me where the justice sat,
Who gave my purse no quarter—
Which made me cry, ‘What are you at?’
Good judge, ‘What are you after?’
With your tol de rol, &c.
And lugg'd me off to prison;
I ax'd them, what it was they meant?
They said, to stretch my wizen!
They took me where the justice sat,
Who gave my purse no quarter—
Which made me cry, ‘What are you at?’
Good judge, ‘What are you after?’
With your tol de rol, &c.
89
Escaping from the jailor's paw,
I walk'd into the Strand, sir—
Where soon a charming lass I saw,
None fairer in the land, sir.
Says I, ‘I'll have a kiss, that's flat!’
For never lass look'd smarter;
When she squall'd out. ‘What are you at?
You wretch! What are you after?’
With your tol de rol, &c.
I walk'd into the Strand, sir—
Where soon a charming lass I saw,
None fairer in the land, sir.
Says I, ‘I'll have a kiss, that's flat!’
For never lass look'd smarter;
When she squall'd out. ‘What are you at?
You wretch! What are you after?’
With your tol de rol, &c.
But while I kiss'd this pretty lass,
That I the freak might rue, sir,
She did my fob of gold watch rob,
And pick'd my pocket, too, sir.
So I went home to hang myself,
From bed post, in my garter—
When hostess cried, ‘What are you at?
Young man, What are you after?’
With your tol de rol, &c.
That I the freak might rue, sir,
She did my fob of gold watch rob,
And pick'd my pocket, too, sir.
So I went home to hang myself,
From bed post, in my garter—
When hostess cried, ‘What are you at?
Young man, What are you after?’
With your tol de rol, &c.
This made me turn so very ill,
I sent the doctor to, sir;
He gave me blister, powder, pill,
And draught, and bolus, too, sir.
So, very soon, I found myself,
To physic falling martyr,
Which made me cry, ‘What are you at?
Doctor, What are gou after?’
With your tol de rol, &c.
I sent the doctor to, sir;
He gave me blister, powder, pill,
And draught, and bolus, too, sir.
So, very soon, I found myself,
To physic falling martyr,
Which made me cry, ‘What are you at?
Doctor, What are gou after?’
With your tol de rol, &c.
So long his bill, to Lawyer I
Went, to reduce his fees, sir—
But, ecod! I found the remedy,
Was worse than the disease, sir.
For where the lawyer sav'd a pound,
He made me twenty barter,
Which caus'd me cry, ‘What are you at?
Oh, law! What are you after?’
With your tol de rol, &c.
Went, to reduce his fees, sir—
But, ecod! I found the remedy,
Was worse than the disease, sir.
For where the lawyer sav'd a pound,
He made me twenty barter,
Which caus'd me cry, ‘What are you at?
Oh, law! What are you after?’
With your tol de rol, &c.
90
But having now told all I saw,
And lash'd 'em left and right, sir;
I think I'll thank you for your law,
And wish you all good night, sir—
For if I longer make my strain.
And urge the songster's charter,
You may cry out, ‘What are you at?
Singer, ‘What are you after?’
With your tol de rol, &c.
And lash'd 'em left and right, sir;
I think I'll thank you for your law,
And wish you all good night, sir—
For if I longer make my strain.
And urge the songster's charter,
You may cry out, ‘What are you at?
Singer, ‘What are you after?’
With your tol de rol, &c.
| An Original Collection of Songs | |