Gay pleasure’s the theme, and sweet smiles are our treat;
Our morning’s a round of good-humoured delight,
And we rattle, in comfort, to pleasure at night.
In the country, how sprightly! our visits we make
Through ten miles of mud, for Formality’s sake;
With the coachman in drink, and the moon in a fog,
And no thought in our head but a ditch or a bog.
In London the spirits are cheerful and light,
All places are gay and all faces are bright;
We’ve ever new joys, and revived by each whim,