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An Original Collection of Songs

sung at the Theatres Royal, Public Concerts &c. &c. By W. T. Moncrieff

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THE LADIES.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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THE LADIES.

[_]

Sung by Mr. Harley, at Drury Lane Theatre. Air—“Oh, cruel.”

Of good Queen Bessy's golden days our histories still ring,
Her reign was never yet surpassed by that of any King,
And should our maidens follow her example you'd see then.
That the Ladies would do all things much better than the men.
Tooral looral, &c.
Prime Ministers they'd aptly make, each husband will allow,
When petticoats have government we all of us must bow,

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As rulers, time still proves the fair possess the greatest skill,
For, say or do whate'er we will, the Ladies rule us still.
Tooral looral, &c.
That well the Ladies could our armies lead we all can see,
For tell me who like woman can command the infantry,
Let her but as white sergeant act, to fight who could defer,
There's not a man of us who wouldn't live and die for her.
Tooral looral, &c.
That greatly she'd the pulpit grace is clear as is the day,
For who'd not soar to virtue when an angel leads the way!
And that the woolsack she'd adorn I've said and say again,
For after all the Ladies are best judges of us men.
Tooral looral, &c.
That they are best of Counsellers, is clear to old and young,
For how can woman fail when she has got to use her tongue,
And that they'd best of Doctors prove, is equally as sure,
For where's the ill in life, I ask, a Lady cannot cure.
Tooral looral, &c.
As Vintners and Distillers who can doubt the Ladies merits,
For who so like the Ladies still can put a man in spirits.
That good Upholsterers they'd be, I'll prove, too, in a minute,
For no house can be furnish'd if there's not a Lady in it.
Tooral looral, &c.
As Tailors to their merits every Tailor still must bow,
So well do they suit all mankind as all men must allow,
As Smiths each Smith the mastery still yield unto his wife,
For, oh, the chains the Ladies forge are chains that last for life.
Tooral looral, &c.
That they'd make famous Nurserymen our children fully prove,
And were they but our Gardeners for tulips none would rove,
Such flowers within themselves they'd be, they still would would charm life's fever,
Be Balsam to our anguish. and Heart's-ease prove for ever.
Tooral looral, &c.

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As Proctors they'd be perfect, for they still our wills controul,
Our marriage licenses they grant, and wedlock's cares console;
Then that they should our Grocers be you surely won't contemn,
For no one can deny that all the sweets are found in them.
Tooral looral &c.
And thus I think I've clearly prov'd the Ladies all in all,
And while we've them to aid us, that Old England ne'er can fall,
And 'tis my firm belief they might soon bring men to that station,
To be merely kept as make-weights in the scale of population.
Tooral looral, &c.