What is it among us? There are lots will be found,
Who, though not in position to fork out a pound,
Will loose with much pleasure a "bull," or a "bob,"
Or a "tizzy," for 'tis but just "bilking" the "gob,"
One glass or two less, or some frisk set aside;
Some little odd pleasure we think of, denied,
And there are at once all the funds we require
For doing an act which e'en angels admire.
So now, let's be "bricks," and at once set about it;
We can—and, remember, he can't—do without it.
Let each "cadge" a trifle, which by post let him send
To "Bell,".[1] who is ever the fighting man's friend.
'Tis an act the old Champion will never forget,
And one we shall never have cause to regret.
So thus to a close my long missive I bring,
And am, gentle sirs, an old Farmer from Tring.
It is fervently to be desired that mankind were obliged to make into parcels all, or most of the unasked advice they give. Without doubt the cost of the paper and string, together with the trouble of directing, would put a partial stop to its indulgence.
- ↑ The Editor of Bell's Life.
