Humours of Gravel-Lane, or, The cobler's daughter's wedding/The Magic Cavern, or, Virtue's Triumph

The Magic Cavern, or Virtue’s Triumph.

C O M E liſten ye lads, and ye laſſes around,
To a ſtave or two ſung by Harry Hidebound,
A tanner I am, of no humble degree,
And tanners all mankind I’ll prove are like me.
⁠Tol de roll, etc.

⁠The lawyer ſo great, with big wig and long hand,
His conscience, as bullock’s hide, ſtoutly tann'd,
Yet touch with a double ſee wiſely that part,
’Twill ſtretch like a glove, it is tann'd with ſuch fit
⁠To de roll etc.

⁠Phyſicians, likewiſe, are aH tanners by trade,
And fortunes by workingon ſheep-skins have made;
With bark they tanning their patient's inſide,
’Till ſhoemaker Death bores a hole thro’ the hide.
⁠Tol de rol, etc

⁠To the tan-pit of Cupid fond lovers repair,
And throw themſelves in thro a fit of deſpair,
But Hymen good-natur’dly oft helps them out,
And their hearts being tann'd, why they ſoon get
⁠about.
⁠Tol de rol, etc.

⁠The foes cf Old England don’t tanning deſpiſe,
And to ſeafontheir hides well, I think they are wiſe.
But in ſpite of the Devil, that Tanner of ſins,
When Britons ſtrike home, they ſhan’t ſleep in
⁠whole ſkins.
⁠Tol dc rol, etc.