“I sing you a song of a right noble Lord,
Whose name must, for ever, stand Fool on Record;
Who, losing a Seat, by accepting a Place,
Subscrib’d to French Strollers, so fell in disgrace.
“This right noble Lord, when elected before,
To preserve us, in our ev’ry Privilege swore;
How well he maintain’d them will quickly appear,
Deduc’d from right Reason, unaided by Sneer.
“Got snug in the House, he exerted his zeal,
Not for his Constituents, or the Common-Weal;
But to serve his own ends, and aid Gentleman Harry,[43]
Lest his Glorious Views, for our Good, should miscarry.
“Have you heard a pert Parrot cry ‘Quaker-a-quer;
A cup of Good Sack; Pretty Poll; Saucy Cur’?
You’ve then heard this Lord to great Harry reply,
And echo, Yes, No,—No, Yes;” anything cry.
“Have you seen a young Puppy leap over a stick,
Fetch, carry, yelp, fawn, and learn every fond Trick?
Then you’ve seen this sleek Lordling on Harry attend,
And, aw’d by his nod, most obsequiously bend.
“To reward such bright parts and so ductile a mind
The Dispenser of PLACES was strongly inclin’d;
When deeply reflecting what he could afford,
He fix’d him (slap dash!) at the Admiralty Board.
“This little Lord, conscious that he had no right
To a Post which requir’d, not to Fiddle, but Fight;
Resolved that for once he’d assume martial airs,
And in the Haymarket protect the French Players.
“He flew, he appear’d, and he heard a strange roar;
The like had ne’er tickl’d his soft ears before;
Then to set an example to future Protectors,
He drew forth his Tilter—and at his Electors.
“Shock’d at this rough treatment, in print they demand,
Why, ’gainst his best Friends, he thus lifted his hand;
His answer was full of mean Equivocation,
Which made them the jest and contempt of the Nation.”
