Song. Clown.
Quite a Clod I came up my Shoes tied with a thong, Lookd foolish—quite mulish I trudg'd it along, And gaz'd like an Oaf at the wonderful throng, That here so gay smart & brave are; A ninny—the Twaddle—Lord quite a mere Hic A terrible bore—quite a Thing—a Queer Stick— But now, I'm the tippee—the dandy—the kick— "Look here—here again—here again—here" (Spoke) Tol de rol, de rol, la rol lol, la rol, lal la Oh, Damme! I'm devilish clever.
(2.)
For Band Regulations to Butchells I pop My ankles just hid by a Natty Boot-top, Pig-tails are a Bore so I mount the neat Crop To appear the clean thing's my Endeavour My negligent coat-cape proclaims me the Beau Ease & Elegance always are habited so I'm the tippee—the dandy—the kick too—heigho! "Look here &c &c &c
(3.)
The Girls all admire me—each fancy I please, To one give a leer, tip the other a Squeeze, Blow a kiss to the Third—for you see I'm all ease And each Whispers thanks for the favour Boh—Damme!—an oath I so pleasantly swear And for Duels—Bounce—Bang—let them fight me who dare I'm the tippee—the Dandy—the Kick too—look there— There again &c &c— Exit
Noise without. Enter Porter with a Washing Machine, puts it down—Enter Beat'em, pursued by Washerwomen, who beat him & break his washing machine—Tear his Bills &c &c two or three of the Women hold him, while an Irish Washerwoman sings the following Song.
Song Shelah O'Sudds—Tune "The Siege of Troy."
Och! Mr. Acrostic I hate your big notes, In op'ning your Mouth, why you'd stop all our Thoats; Wid Natty Men Milliners, Och! You'd be even, And Starve all the Fair-Sex wid Men-Washer-Women. But leave off such Nonsense 'tis better, my Joy, Than let Shelah O'Sudds be widout her Employ; We'll beat all your Beat'ems but give us fair-play While wid Elbows & Fists we lather away.