A Song. Set by Mr. Ackeroyd.
Z——DS Madam return me my Heart,
Or by the Lord Harry I'll make ye;
Tho' you sleep when I talk of my smart,
As I hope to be Knighted I'll wake ye;
If you rant, why by Jove,
Then I'll rant as well as you;
There's no body cares for your puffing,
You're mistaken in me;
Nay prithee, prithee, prithee pish,