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With your smililo nonsense and all your queer boder,

Since whiskey's a liquor divine:

1

To be sure the old Ancients, as well as the Mo

derns,

Did not love a sup of good wine,

Did not, &c.

Next Habbakuk rose, for they took 'em in course, But Habbakuk's cold had made Habbakuk hoarse; He declar'd he cou’dn't sing any more than the

moon,

But, if Moses pleas'd, he wou'd whistle a tune"Lillabullero."

Jeremiah rose next, Sir, at Moses' desire,
Whom wit, Sir, nor wine, cou'd never inspire;
And in strains, which wou'd suit the commemo-

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He sung them a verse of his own Lamentation.

Then rose up little Jonah, who look'd like a jelly, For he was just come, Sir, out of the whale's

belly,

For three days and three nights he was left to

despair,

So he sang unto Moses what he suffer'd there.

JONAH'S SONG.-Cease rude Boreas, blustering

List ye

railer,

landsmen all to me; Messmates hear a brother sailor Sing the dangers of the sea.

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In the horrid belly pent, Sir,
Think on what I suffer'd there;
Forc'd to keep a disinal Lent, Sir,
And to breathe infectious air:

Nought but fish to feed upon, Sir,
And compell'd to eat it raw;
For my hopes were almost gone, Sir,
Ere I left the monster's jaw.

Then Sampson rose next, once in prowess so big, But at that time friend Sampson had just got his

wig;

He related the tale of his dire mishap,

How his wife shav'd his head, as he slept in her

lap.

SAMPSON'S SONG.-O dear what can the matter

be?

O dear what can the matter be?
Sampson has lost all his hair.

O that I e'er should have taken so sound a nap,
O that I e'er should have taken it in her lap,
O that I had but tied on my red night cap,

That Sampson had ne'er lost his hair.

O dear what can the matter be?

Mercy on me, what can the matter be? &c.

ad libitum.

They next call'd on Job, as a song was his forte, And they begg'd, as 'twas late, that his song might

be short:

So he sung Chevy Chase, to a dismal psalm tune, Which the prophets all thought wou'd have lasted till hoon.

Now

Now Moses it seems, Sir, who good hours kept,
Whilst they sat a singing, why he sat and slept;
But wak'd by the noise, Sir, of calling encore,
He bid them get home, for they shou'd drink no

more.

Well-bred Aaron, it seems,Sir,at this took offence, And swore want of good manners show'd want of sense;

This caus'd a dispute, some reflections were cast, But for decency's sake, we'll not mention what past.

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Yes, O yes, O yes!

Lost or mislaid, or stolen or strayed, the character, the decency, the duty of a

youth,

Who was fam'd, till this accident, for probity and

truth,

Who assuag'd his parents' sorrow, alleviated all their cares,

And who, with matchless honour, regulated their affairs,

And who, with matchless, &c.

Spoken.]-This young man was seen to come out of his father's banker's, he was beckoned by a lady, in a hackney-coach; he drove to a jeweller's, where he bought her a fine diamond necklace, dined with a roaring party at a tavern, and, in the evening, was heard to talk loud at the Opera; he was afterwards in

very

troduced

troduced to a house not a hundred miles from St. James's, where it is supposed he could get no supper, for he was seen about three o'clock in the morning to swallow dice, and eat cards.

Who to his wretched parents, the misguided youth will bring,

Besides the satisfaction of doing a good action, he shall receive a sum, far more than Indian mines can e'er afford,

He shall see the peace and comfort of a family restor❜d.

O yes, O yes, O yes!

God save the King!

Lost, or mislaid, or stolen, or strayed, The tears of a widow, rich, wealthy and fair, Who nurs'd a rich old husband half a year with tender care,

Who lov'd him not for his riches, conveniency, or

pelf,

All which is very true, for she told him so her

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Spoken.]-As this poor unfortunate young lady was seen about two hours after her husband's death to go to the Commons to prove his will, where it is supposed, that a glance from the eye of a handsome young proctor so dried and absorbed up the tears of the disconsolate young widow, that she had never been scen to cry once since, and then was detected with an onion in her pocket handkerchief..

Who

Who to this wretched mourner, these same precious drops will bring,

Besides the satisfaction of doing a good action, Shall receive a gracious smile, which is all that can be proffered,

As they will be cry'd no more, nor any greater reward offered.

O yes, O yes, O yes!

God save the King!

Lost, or mislaid, or stolen, or strayed,

The knife and fork of an alderman-a counsellor's wig

The dice-box of a Grecian-a parson's tythe pig -The fan of a lady

y-a false tooth also-and the hair-powder license belonging to a beau. And the hair-powder license, &c.

Spoken. As these poor unfortunate sufferers are nearly ruined and deprived of their livelihood by the loss of these respective articles, they being their working tools, the charitable are hereby humbly requested to take into consideration their forlorn condition.

And who to these poor people, these same articles will bring,

Besides the satisfaction of doing a good action, Many thanks they shall receive from the charitable donors,

As they are very little use to any body but the

owners.

God save the King!

O YOU,

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