VIII
Gin! What is become of thy heart-chearing fire,
And where is the beauty of Calvert's Intire?
Does aught of its taste Double Gloucester beguile,
That ham, those potatoes, why do they not smile,
Ah! rot ye, I see what it was you were at,
Why you knocked up your froth, why you flash'd off your fat:
To roll in her ivory, to pleasure her eye,
To be tipt by her tongue, on her stomach to lie.
IX
How slack is the crop till my Nancy return!
No duds in my pocket, no sea-coal to burn! [9]
Methinks if I knew where the watchman wou'd tread,
I wou'd follow, and lend him a punch o' the head.
Fly swiftly, good watchman, bring hither my dear,
And, blast me! I'll tip ye a gallon of beer. [10]
Ah, sink him! the watchman is full of delay,
Nor will budge one foot faster for all I can say.
X
Will no blood-hunting foot-pad, that hears me complain,
Stop the wind of that nabbing-cull, constable Payne? [11]
If he does, he'll to Tyburn next sessions be dragg'd,
And what kiddy's so rum as to get himself scragg'd? [12]
No! blinky, discharge her, and let her return;
For ne'er was poor fellow so sadly forlorn.
Zounds! what shall I do? I shall die in a ditch;
Take warning by me how you're leagu'd with a bitch.
[1: companions] [2: accompanied] [3: jailed] [4: drink] [5: light-hearted] [6: picks oakum] [7: Notes] [8: gone] [9: money] [10: treat] [11: Note] [12: foolish]
YE SCAMPS, YE PADS, YE DIVERS [Notes] [1781]
[From The Choice of Harlequin: or The Indian Chief by
MR. MESSINK, and sung by JOHN EDWIN as "the Keeper of Bridewell">[.