CARMEN ÆSTUALE.
A Song for the Summer, to be sung by J. C. H——, Esq.,[19] now a Prisoner in His Majesty's Gaol of Newgate.
Tune—"Whare ha' ye bin a' the day, my boy Tammy?"
Where have ye been a' the Spring,
My boy Cammy?
Where have ye been a' the Spring,
My boy Cammy?
I have been in Newgate keep,
Doomed to dine, to drink, to sleep,
Side by side with rogue and sweep,
In dungeon dark and clammy.[20]
What took you to Newgate keep,
My boy Cammy?
What took you to Newgate keep,
My boy Cammy?
I did once my goose-quill take,
To shew a Whig a small mistake.
Did you do't for freedom's sake?
Freedom's my eye and Tammy!
What then did you do it for,
My boy Cammy?
What then did you do it for,
My boy Cammy?
Because I thought if I were sent
To jail, for libelling Parliament,
I might chance to circumvent
Next election, Lamby.[21]
How would that throw out George Lamb,
My boy Cammy?
How would that throw out George Lamb,
My boy Cammy?
Because, with tag-rag and bobtail,
Nothing does but going to jail;
We have seldom found it fail;
Voyez vous, mon ami!
How do you make that out,
My boy Cammy?
How do you make that out,
My boy Cammy?
See what all the rest have done—
Abbott, Burdett, Waddington,
Blandford, Hunt, and Wat—son,
And now, like them, here am I!
Did the Speaker talk to you,
My boy Cammy?
Did the Speaker talk to you,
My boy Cammy?
No;—my visit to Papa
Wreck'd my prospects of éclat;
I was never at the bar,
Where I thought they'd ha' me.
Why, then, 'tis a stupid job,
My boy Cammy?
Why, then, 'tis a stupid job,
My boy Cammy?
No;—because when I come out
They'll have a car, without a doubt,
And, in triumph, all about,
The biped beasts will draw me.
You've mistaken quite your game,
My boy Cammy;
You've mistaken quite your game,
My boy Cammy.
Of fulsome stuff, like that, we're sick,
Besides, we all see through the trick;
Before we drag, we'll see you "kick"
Before your prison, d—mme!
ASS-ASS-INATION.[22]
"Write me down an Ass."—Shakspeare.
The Earl of Grosvenor is an Ass-
—erter of our freedom;
And were he Canterbury's Grace,
The Gospels in his Sovereign's face,
He'd rather throw, than read 'em.
My Lord of Grantham is an Ass-
—ailer of Black Wooler.
But, if this blustering York Hussar
Were tried in any real war,
'Tis thought he might be cooler.
Lord Enniskillen is an Ass-
—enter to Lord Grantham;
Bold, generous, noisy, swearing friends—
Till they have gain'd their private ends,
And that their patrons want 'em.
The Earl of Harewood is an Ass-
—ured help in trouble;
For, when his Lordship condescends,
Out of a scrape to help his friends,
He only makes it double.
The Earl of Morley is an Ass-
—istant to Lord Granville;
His head outside is rich in shoot;
But to beat anything into 't
I'd rather thump an anvil.
Crazy Lord Erskine is an Ass-
—ortment of all follies:
He was the first to slur the Queen;
But since his trip to Gretna Green,
He's wondrous kind to dollies.
The good Lord Kenyon is an Ass-
—uager of dissension;
With feeble voice, and maudlin eye,
He would have pray'd for infamy,
And granted sin a pension.
The Lord Ashburton is an Ass-
—iduous attender;
No voter for the Queen is stouter,
Although he knows no more about her,
Than of the Witch of Endor.
The Duke of Leinster is an Ass-
—ociate whom she flatters;
Though, by two uncles he has seen,
To hate a King, and love a Queen,
Are rather ticklish matters.
In short, each Whig Lord is an Ass-
—emblage of all merit;
And to reward their virtuous lives,
May all their daughters and their wives
The Queen's good taste inherit.
Lord Blessington's a stage-struck Ass-
—umer of Lothario;
But by his talents, wit, or grace,
(Had he but eyes to find his place,)
He's fitter for Paddy Cary O!
Lord Steward Cholmondeley is an Ass-
—imilate Polonius!
He dares not blame "the mob-led Queen,"
Though he best knows, her loves have been
What others call erroneous.
Lord Arden's an official Ass-
—ignee of naval prizes;
And, as the moon affects the seas,
His loyalty obeys his fees,
And with them falls or rises.
Lord Hampden is a twaddling Ass-
—assin of our patience;
This Guelphic Knight, so dire and thin,
Rides his white horse in the train of sin,
Like Death in the Revelations!