Which brought tears in his breeches, instead of his eyes.
In rampant condition he flew to a fair,
And per chance met the Dolly he’d robb’d of her hair,
She whipp’d off the wig, cloath’d his parts with the cawl,
So in went his dry bob, and wet bob, and all.
Now we know to be true what anatomists state,
That the fountain of love is supplied from the pate;
’Twas the jasey provoking,—sirs, mark what I say,—
Made his fountain of love in love’s bason to play.
Then take my advice, ye old cocks of the game,