A Comet crop’d, now heaves in sight,
A stranger constellation;
Tho’ Newton, Tycho Brahe, Des Cartes,
Concerning Comets vary,
Yet Comets, call them what you will,
Are stars both rough and hairy.
CHORUS.
And some are crop’d,
Nick’d, hog’d, fig’d, dock’d,
Fir’d, bearded, tail’d, and whisker’d,