A STORY, or Song, you have left to my choice. For one I've no Humour, for t'other no Voice; In attempting a Tune I like Nobody bawl, The wrinkl'd-cheek Critic, call'd 'Squire Syntaxis, For Schoolmasters conjugate derivate stuff, Now as to this Nobody I dare to say, And sometimes that something may somehow be shewn, The Public is pester'd with many gay forms, Those well-dress'd Necessities daily we view, They've nothing to think on, they've nothing to say, 'Tis Nobody only can guess the Game play'd, The Romp too ripe grown, unless gather'd a Spouse, Will fall, the first shake, from weak Chastity's boughs; Dear Captain, she whispers, somebody will hear us, Dear Miss, whispers he, there is Nobody near us. But when she's betray'd by her Passion, to Shame, The tread of Gallant by Cornuto is heard, But Wife pats his cheek, and lisps, Nobody! dear, Any-body may say, if they please, I am wrong, WATER. TUNE. "The big-belly'd Bottle." UR Chorus to Bacchus, to Bacchus we'll raise, Long Corks be my Garland instead of the Bays; With Burgundy's Blessings my Temples anoint, And toast the first Toper who drank a Half-pint. My Song is to Bacchus, the God of the Vine, Quoth Temperance, WATER's the Med'cine of health, "It was when his Harvest rejoic'd the parch'd Earth, "Beneath the first Vine, Love on Wit begot Mirth; "Yet Hate rais'd some Rebels who broke from his sway, "And, drunk with his bounty, deny'd to obey. "He harness'd his Tygers, he marshall'd his force, "Silenus was Sutler, Lord Pan led the Horse; "The Ganges they cross'd, came in front of the Foe. "And struck them all dead, without striking a blow.. " 'Twas Pan did the feat, cast them into a fright, He crept, like a Fox, thro' their camp in the night; "All the Wine he drew off, while these Ignorants snor'd, "And into the Bottles foul Ditch Water pour'd. Each Rebel, next morn, rais'd the Flask to his head, MEDIOCRITY. TUNE. "Attempt to be happy! but how can that be?” I Vic's N a neighbourly way, with an honest man's fame, Attend if you please, if you're pleas'd with a name, Be careful to keep on Humility's side, Obey not the Envy of Pique nor of Pride, Be assur'd that Esteem is a noble Estate,- Shun Flattery's phrase, let not Promise allure, Forget not old Friends, tho' perhaps they are poor, Oh! suffer not Interest, Friendship to wean, Remember Yourself, spare the shame of your Friend, With Spirit the Cause of the Absent defend, Oppress not the Low, nor be High People's Slave, Howe'er inconsistent the World may behave, His views let Ambition extend o'er the State, No Nabobs I wish for, I wou'd not be great, How chearful, in Health, will my latter days pass, Unenvy'd, unenvying live; With the Friends I have prov'd, and my fav'rite Lass, And PRACTICE THE PRECEPTS I GIVE. |