And no more nor be a gudgement,—for it cant come to good
To sit up agin Providence, which your a doing,-nor not fit It should,
For man warnt maid for Wommens starvation,
Nor to do away Laundrisses as is Links of Creation
And cant be dun without in any Country But a naked Hottinpot Nation.
Ah, I wish our Minister would take one of your Tubbs
And preach a Sermon in it, and give you some good rubs—
But I warrants you reads (for you cant spel we nose) nyther Bybills or Good Tracks,'
Or youd no better than Taking the Close off one's Backs
And let your neighbours Oxin an Asses alone,
And every Thing thats hern,—and give every one their Hone!
Well, its God for us All, and every Washer Wommen for herself, And so you might, without shoving any on us off the shelf,
But if you want Noddis youd Let wommen a-be
And pull off your Pattins,-and leave the washing to we
That nose what's what-Or mark what I say,
Youl make a fine Kittle of fish of Your Close some Day-
When the Aulder men wants Their Bibs and their ant nun at all,
And Crismass cum-and never a Cloth to lay in Gild Hall,
Or send a damp shirt to his Woship the Mare
Till hes rumatiz Poor Man, and cant set uprite to do good in his Harm Chare
Besides Miss-Matching Larned Ladys Hose, as is sent for you not to wash (for you dont wash) but to stew
And make Peples Stockins yeller as oght to be Blew,
With a vast more like That,—and all along of Steem
Which warnt meand by Nater for any sich skeam—
But thats your Losses and youl have to make It Good,
And I cant say I'm sorry, afore God, if you shoud,
For men mought Get their Bread a great many ways
Without taking ourn,-aye, and Moor to your Prays,
You might go and skim the creme off Mr. Mack-Adam's milky ways-that's what you might,
Or bete Carpets or get into Parleamint,—or drive crabrolays from
Or, if you must be of our sects, be Watchemen, and slepe upon a
(Which is an od way of sleping I must say,—and a very hard pillow
Or you might be any trade, as we are not on that I'm awares, Or be Watermen now, (not Water wommen) and roe people up and down Hungerford stares.
If You Was even to Turn Dust Men a dry sifting Dirt,
But you oughtint to Hurt Them as never Did You no Hurt!
IS known to man, 'tis known to woman,
'Tis known to all the world in common,
How politics and party strife
Vex public, even private, life;
But, till some days ago, at least
They never worried brutal beast.
I wish you could have seen the creature,
A tame domestic boar by nature,
Gone wild as boar that ever grunted,,
By Baron Hoggerhausen hunted.
His back was up, and on its ledge
The bristles rose like quickset hedge;
His eye was fierce and red as coal,
Like furnace, shining through a hole,
And restless turn'd for mischief seeking;
His very hide with rage was reeking;
And oft he gnash'd his crooked tusks,
Chewing his tongue instead of husks,
Till all his jaw was white and yesty,
Showing him savage, fierce, and resty.
And what had caused this mighty vapour?
A dirty fragment of a paper,
That in his rambles he had found,
Lying neglected on the ground;
A relic of the Morning Post,
Two tattered columns at the most,
But which our irritated swine
(Derived from Learned Toby's line)
Digested easy as his meals,
Like any quidnunc Cit at Peel's.
He read, and mused, and pored and read,
His shoulders shrugg'd, and shook his head;
Now at a line he gave a grunt,
Now at a phrase took sudden stunt,
And snorting turn'd his back upon it,
But always came again to con it;
In short he petted up his passion,
After a very human fashion,
When Temper's worried with a bone
She'll neither like nor let alone.
At last his fury reach'd the pitch
Of that most irritating itch,
When mind and will, in fever'd faction,
Prompt blood and body into action;
No matter what, so bone and muscle
May vent the frenzy in a bustle;
But whether by a fight or dance
Is left to impulse and to chance.
So stood the Boar, in furious mood
Made up for any thing but good;
He gave his tail a tighter twist,
Ås men in anger clench the fist,
And threw fresh sparkles in his eye
From the volcano in his fry--
Ready to raze the parish pound,
To pull the pigsty to the ground,
To lay Squire Giles, his master, level,
Ready, indeed, to play the devil.
So, stirr'd by raving demagogues,
I've seen men rush, like rabid dogs,
Stark staring from the Pig and Whistle,
And like his Boarship, in a bristle,
Resolved unanimous on rumpus
From any quarter of the compass;
But whether to duck Aldgate Pump,
(For wits in madness never jump)
To liberate the beasts from Cross's;
Or hiss at all the Wigs in Ross's;
On Waithman's column hang a weeper;
Or tar and feather the old sweeper;
Or break the panes of landlord scurvy,
And turn the King's Head topsy-turvy ;
Rebuild, or pull down, London Wall;
Or take his cross from old Saint Paul;
Or burn those wooden Highland fellows,
The snuff-men's idols, 'neath the gallows!
None fix'd or cared-but all were loyal
To one design-a battle royal.
Thus stood the Boar, athirst for blood,
Trampling the Morning Post to mud,
With tusks prepared to run a muck;—
And scrrow for the mortal's luck
That came across him Whig or Tory,
It would have been a tragic story-
But fortune interposing now,
Brought Bessy into play-a Sow;—
A fat, sleek, philosophic beast
That never fretted in the least,
Whether her grains were sour or sweet,
For grains are grains, and she could eat.
Absorb'd in two great schemes capacious,
The farrow and the farinaceous,
If cares she had, they could not stay,
She drank, and wash'd them all away.
In fact this philosophic sow
Was very like a German frow;
In brief-as wit should be and fun,—
If sows turn Quakers, she was one;
Clad from the duckpond, thick and slab,
In bran-new muddy suit of drab.
To still the storm of such a lubber,
She came like oil-at least like blubber-
Her pigtail of as passive shape
As ever droop'd o'er powder'd nape;
Her snout, scarce turning up-her deep
Small eyes half settled into sleep;
Her ample ears, dependent, meek,
Like fig-leaves shading either cheek;
Whilst, from the corner of her jaw,
A sprout of cabbage, green and raw,
Protruded,- -as the Dove, so stanch
For Peace, supports an olive branch,—
Her very grunt, so low and mild,
Like the soft snoring of a child,
Inquiring into his disquiets,
Served like the Riot Act, at riots,-
He laid his restive bristles flatter,
And took to arguefy the matter.
"O Bess, O Bess, here's heavy news!
They mean to 'mancipate the Jews!
Just as they turn'd the blacks to whites,
They want to give them equal rights,
And, in the twinkling of a steeple,
Make Hebrews quite like other people.
Here, read-but I forget your fetters,
You've studied litters more than letters."
"Well," quoth the Sow, "and no great miss,
I'm sure my ignorance is bliss ;
Contentedly I bite and sup,
And never let my flare flare-up;
Whilst you get wild and fuming hot
What matters Jews be Jews or not?
Whether they go with beards like Moses,
Or barbers take them by the noses,
Whether they live, permitted dwellers,
In Cheapside shops, or Rag Fair cellars,
Or climb their way to civic perches,
Or go to synagogues or churches?"
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