We’ve finished our fights, and we’ve settled the jobs;
I founds you a customers ugly and stout,
And I’m blest if my works wasn’t neatly cut out.
We’ve both of us passed, and no doubts on’t, our prime,
And good sarvice we’ve seen in the Rings in our time;
Fortune’s smiles and her frowns we’ve been destin’d to weather,
But ne’er, as I knows on, displayed the white feather.
Your friends chose to say I’d no relish for whopping,
And censure as currish my systems of dropping,
Declare by good men such a course was abhorr’d,