An honest English gladness.
Nay, she shall have a lofty spire
With weathercock surmounted,
That they may, if ’tis their desire,
See what they are accounted.
Puff’d here, puff’d there, puff’d every where,
Save in a right direction,
Or now the culprits would not share
A whipping post correction.
Will ye be good, ye scurvy rogues,