The booty, for which a fine cawl he had weav’d;
But strange! whilst old razor the wig had in hand,
The pole in his breeches did constantly stand.
Well pleas’d with his plight, Razor laid by his work,
And lather’d the beard of his wife like a Turk;
Keep the wig, said she, Love, don’t expose it for sale,
’Tis a bob for your head, and a bob for my tail.
The wig frizz’d and curl’d, closely shav’d Codger’s nob;
Away went the barber to try on the bob;
But the bob waxing warm, Codger’s passions did rise,