(3)
The next was a youth with a sorrowful air
Who had fallen a victim to love and despair
He'd not the least prospect of gaining the fair,
So just came to die, and to end all his care.
Desperation, &c.
A Bully came next, with a glove in his hat,
A string of new oaths he had learnt quite pat;
He bragg'd of his courage with impudent chat,
But to tell you the truth he'd have started at that.
Elevation, &c.
Then in came a Quaker, friend Elijah Prim,
Hid under the shade of a thirteen inch brim
Whatever he did 'twas the spirit mov'd him,
But I'm sure he had none; for he mov'd not a limb.
Inspiration, &c.
A Rake who has been of her fortune appris'd
In a conjurer’s habit his person disguis'd;
Her fortune to tell was the scheme he devis'd,
But his beard we pull'd off, and his cunning surpris'd
Conjuration, &c.
An Irish dear boy was the next that came in,
Though bare were his buttocks, yet rough was his chin.
