Next I went courting the brisk widow Moore,
Reached the house, gave a tap, and boldly in I goes,
My suit I pressed, but she exclaim’d, Here, show the knave the door,
For at sight of my appearance, she turn’d up her nose,
But, when I show’d a bag of gold, she wish’d to be a talker,
At the sound of the rhino she quickly chang’d her note,
But, says I, I’m off, dear ma’am, it’s time my name was Walker.
So don’t despise a man because he’s got a ragged coat.
THE COLLIER SWELL.
I used to be a vulgar clown, with cash and money short in,
Till my old uncle died in Town, and left me all his fortune,
A collier I was by trade, but I’ve chang’d as you may tell, sir,
And since a richer purse I’ve got, I’ll be a regular Swell, sir.
Chorus.
But I’m so plagued with vulgar folks, since I’ve got cash to sport in,
Why can’t a collier cut a swell, when he’s been left a fortune?
I used to go with low bred chaps, and talk to every put low,
Get drunk in Tom and Jerry shops, and go a purring foot bo;
But now, with all the swells in town, I sport my bobs and tanners,
And I am going to London town, to learn some genteel manners.
And when I’ve been to London town, I mean to go to France, Sir,
To practice two or three times a week, to learn to hop and dance, Sir,
Besides, I’ve got a quizzing glass, to see things far and near o,
Which caused me the other day, to fall reet o’er a barrow.
O my family are a vulgar set, tho’ they’ve got clothes in fashion,
They put them on all inside out, which puts me in a passion,
The lads when’er we go to church, tho’ they have lots of riches,
They all go in their clogs, smock frocks, and leather breeches.
My wife she is the worst of all, when we give genteel dinners,
She uses neither knife nor fork, but pops in all her fingers,
And when they hand the wine about, she tells the gents it stinks, Sir,
Gets full her mouth, and squirts it out, and calls for treacle drink, Sir.