« ForrigeFortsett »
A splinter knock'd my nose off ;
My bowsprit's gone! I cries,
Thank God, 't was not my eyes;
Thus, if bold tars, &c.
Glad for my eyes and limbs,
Both my two precious glions;
Yet cheerfully wou'd sing,
'Cause why,—'twas for my King;
Plcas d with some pittance spare,
people dine, And the very best of eatables they cater, Give the very best of spirits, and decant the
best of wine, I attend as a very merry waiter,
Then under arm,
Then a table-cloth can spread, neat decant my
white and red, Manage matters to a charm, and with napkin Can a skinflint or jolly fellow tell, whether they'll
come down, Gold, a tissey, or a crown; so treats 'em as I
find them, ill or well. And when noisy, roaring, drumming, tingling,
ringling, I cries coming, coming, coming, coming, coming, coming, coming, coming; going in, Madam; going up, Sir; dainn the bells, they're all ringing at once!
In their very merry meetings, why I always likes
to share; Whole bottles, sometimes broke, why then I
snack it: In that I'm quite at home, so it travels, you know
where, Sally chambermaid and I slily crack it; She a little fortune’s made, just by warming a bed,
So I think it not amiss, now and then to snatch
For you know I love Sally very well.
Tinkling, jingling, I cries coming, &c. John, devil some biscuits, and take them up to
the Angel.— Tom, you take care of No. 21; I shall take care of No. 1 myself.
A snipe there once was order'd, such an article
we'd not; Yet to disappoint a customer unwilling, A plover was serv’d up, the gemman swore no bill
't had got; Says I swallow it, I'll soon bring the bill in. Thus I jokes, and gaily talk, while poor master
jokes with chalk, And jingling glasses drink, while I jingle in the
chins. Cod! he breaks, and I buy in, who can tell; Sally Missus then is made ;-up to every ser
vant's trade, We are certain sure, your honours, to do well;
Brisk and busy, no hum drumming,
Tinkling, jingling, I cries coming, &c. James, take care of No, 4, and see that Sam Cel
ler-Man sends up prick'd bottles; they're a shabby set, and we inay never see them again. -Mrs. Napkin, show my Lord the Star and Garter; and Lawyer Lattitat to the Devil. He's going there himself, Sir; he knows the way very well.
COW we're all met here together,
In spite of wind or weather,
Where's the waiter ? ring away:
And plenty of brown stout;
Let the clerk all the names read out. Spoken--Gentlemen of theQuizzical Society,please
to answer to your names-Farmer Scroggins; why I be here--Doctor Horseleach; here - Parson Paunch; here— Taylor Tit; here--So he goes on for about twenty; at last-You're here, are you, all assembled?-All! all! all! all!
So here's to you, Mr. Wiggins,
So put the beer about, &c.
Of the times what do people say;
Indeed! well, and how goes hay?
there's master Wiseman,
That the cause of this bother and rout-
Let the Clerk read them out.
liquor in his neighbour's pocket shall forfeit 2d. -Every member of this society that singes his neighbour's wig with his pipe, shall forfeit 2d. Every member of this society that refuses to laugh at a joke, shall forfeit 2d-Every member of this society who reproaches his neighbour with coming to distress by unavoidable misfor, ttmes, shall forfeit 9d.-Mr. President, I move that this forfeit be a shilling; and I second the motion. Are you all agreed? I am wanimously.--A noble resolution!-D'ye think so?
Why, then, here's to you, Mr. Higgins,
Here's to you, Mr. Wiggins, &c.
But in all their poddles mounts;
Each his fav'rite tale recounts:
Conversation to provoke;
While the company's lost in smoke. Spoker.-Upon my soul, neighbour, I had no hand
in the death of your wife; it was all in the way of business :--Nay, but Doctor, 'twere a cursed unneighbourly thing of you, not that the woman were any sitch great things, but to put a body to sitch an expense. Why, you don't tell me so! kill'd fifteen with your own hand !--Fifteen by my laurels! D'ye hear it, Butchers-Hear it, yes: but I'll lay'n what he dares, he has not kill'd so inany as I have by hundreds Powder my whiskers-Come, come, gentlemen, says the Bellows-maker, no breezes.-Let me exhort you to temperance, says the Parson.-Amen, says the Clerk. That's right, says the Undertaker, let's bury all animosity. That's what I like,