A splinter knock'd my nose off; Scarce with these words I'd outed, Well then, they're gone, I cry'd, in short, spare. And thus, tho' tars, &c. I'm blind, and I'm a cripple, 'Cause why,-'twas for my King; Pleas'd with some pittance spare. AT the very best of houses, where the best of 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 Then a table-cloth can spread, neat decant my white and red, Manage matters to a charm, and with napkin under arm, 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; damn 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, youknow 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 a kiss; For you know I love Sally very well. So hob-nobbing as we chat, looking, loving, and all that, In our ears they're ever ringing such a peal: Missus, maids, all bawling, drumming, 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 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 chink. Cod! he breaks, and I buy in, who can tell; Sally Missus then is made;-up to every servant'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 Celler-Man sends up prick'd bottles; they're a shabby set, and we may 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. NOW we're all met here together, In spite of wind or weather, To moisten well our clay; And 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, Here's to you Master Higgins, So put the beer about, &c. Come tell us what the news is, Of the times what do people say; He tells the Exciseman That the cause of this bother and rout Order! order, and sobriety, The rules of this society, Let the Clerk read them out. Spoken--Everymember of this society that spills his 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 tunes, tunes, shall forfeit 2d.-Mr. President, I move that this forfeit be a shilling; and I second the motion. Are you all agreed? I am unanimously. A noble resolution!-D'ye think so? Why, then, here's to you, Mr. Higgins, Here's to you, Mr. Wiggins, &c. And now the potent liquor But in all their noddles mounts; Each his fav'rite tale recounts : While the company's lost in smoke. Spoken.-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 many 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, F said |