An Original Collection of Songs sung at the Theatres Royal, Public Concerts &c. &c. By W. T. Moncrieff |
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CHAPTER OF SLANG. |
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 | An Original Collection of Songs |  |
CHAPTER OF SLANG.
Oh what a change, all England now are slanging it,
High and low, and middle classes, studying close—
Poets now write nothing else, while orators harangue in it,
Poor Doctor Johnson's nose put out of joint by Captain Grose.
So classic, comprehensive, so comic, and so terse it is,
Old Oxford, aye, and Cambridge, too, all at their universities,
Have buried the dead languages, which once taey were so pat in
To study prime St. Giles's Greek, and bark out rum dog latin.
[OMITTED]
High and low, and middle classes, studying close—
Poets now write nothing else, while orators harangue in it,
Poor Doctor Johnson's nose put out of joint by Captain Grose.
So classic, comprehensive, so comic, and so terse it is,
Old Oxford, aye, and Cambridge, too, all at their universities,
106
To study prime St. Giles's Greek, and bark out rum dog latin.
Oh, what a change, &c.
Slang the current language is, with gentry and mobility,
Their mother tongue they patter it—the pedant's frown defy,
The higher classes boast they're up, and young sprigs of nobility,
Roses, pinks, and tulips, now are regularly fly;
While Dusty Bob and Afric Sal don't stand upon gentility,
But swear they're down, and leery coves with just the same facility:
And as your Toms and Jerrys on their sprees larks, rambles, pass his way,
Old watchey swears that he's awake, and knows full well the time of day.
[OMITTED]
Their mother tongue they patter it—the pedant's frown defy,
The higher classes boast they're up, and young sprigs of nobility,
Roses, pinks, and tulips, now are regularly fly;
While Dusty Bob and Afric Sal don't stand upon gentility,
But swear they're down, and leery coves with just the same facility:
And as your Toms and Jerrys on their sprees larks, rambles, pass his way,
Old watchey swears that he's awake, and knows full well the time of day.
Oh, what a change, &c.
107
Your citizens say they're not green—that they've not come from Tooley Stret,
The sportsman that he knows an oss for harness or for hunt,
The soldier boasts, of milling hosts, and flooring foes where're they meet,
Stock brokers prate of bulls and bears, lame ducks, and lots of blunt.
Young ladies study fancy works, and with their ogles flash away,
In hopes too hook some nob that they may lead the ton and dash away,
No grammer-schools, like hammer-schools, and he must be a ninny-hammer,
Who cannot hammer flash in him, and patter it without a grammer,
[OMITTED]
The sportsman that he knows an oss for harness or for hunt,
The soldier boasts, of milling hosts, and flooring foes where're they meet,
Stock brokers prate of bulls and bears, lame ducks, and lots of blunt.
Young ladies study fancy works, and with their ogles flash away,
In hopes too hook some nob that they may lead the ton and dash away,
No grammer-schools, like hammer-schools, and he must be a ninny-hammer,
Who cannot hammer flash in him, and patter it without a grammer,
Oh, what a change, &c.
| An Original Collection of Songs | |