The trumpet will give up its tragic truths!
The magistrate desiring to be Keen,
Will put an end, as usual, to the Booths.
No lucky bags, no drums, no three-hand reels,
No cocks in breeches, no tobacco-sots!
No more shall Wapping learn to dance quadrilles,
Or shake a hornpipe ’mid the pewter pots!
No more the Fairing shall the fair allure,
For fairs no more the fairing may expose;
In pleasure-lovers, work shall work a cure;