Skip to main content

‹‹‹ prev (135) Page 19Page 19Seven ages

(137) next ››› Page 21Page 21

(22) Page 20 -
Then the pretty babe of grace,
With a shining morning face,
With satchel on his back,
To school, alas '. must pack,
And like a snail he creeps,
And for bloody Monday weeps,
All, &c.
Book mislaid, truant play'd,
Rod in fickle, bum to tickle.
Heigh down, &.c.
Then the lover next appears,
Soused over head and ears,
Like a lobster on the nre,
Sighing ! ready to expire,
And a deep hole in his heart,
You may through it drive a cart,
All, &c.
Beauty spurns him, passion burns him.,
Like a wizzard, guts, and gizzaid.
Heigh down, &x.
Then the soldier, ripe for plunder,
Breathing slaughter, blood and thunder;
Lord ! at what- a tale he runs,
About drums, and swords, and guns ;
And talks of streaming veins,
Shatter'd limbs, and scatter'd brains,
All, &c
What foes he thrash'd, cut, and slash'd,
And here he popp'd 'em, there he dropp'd 'em.
Heigh dowr, Sec.
Then the justice in his chair,
With his broad and vacant stare 3
His wig of formal cut,
And belly like a butt,

Images and transcriptions on this page, including medium image downloads, may be used under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International Licence unless otherwise stated. Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International Licence