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Mofes, mind what I/ay j when 'tis night 'tis not day ;
No\\ in former times faints could work miracles, And raife from the dead, there's no more to be faid,
For, Mofes, I've dropp'd down my fpe&acles.
Mofes, hear what I fay, life's, alas ! but a day,
Nay, fometimes 'tis over at noon ; Man is but a flower, cut down in an hour,
- Tis ftrong ale, Mofes, does it fo foon.
So one pot, and then; iMofes anfwer'd, Amen! And thus far we've carried the farce on ;
'Tis the vice of the times to relifh thofe rhymes, Where the ridicule runs on a Parfon.
Butfatire detefts immorality's jeft,
All prophane or immodefr expreffion ;
So now we'll conclude, and drink as we iliou'd. To the good folks of every profeilion.
Tol de rol, lol de rol lol, &c.
��YOU SHAN'T SIR.
JOHNNY met -me t'other day,
' Blithe young foldier Johnny j
Whither going, he did fay, Pretty lafs fo bonny :
Stop awhile and let us talk No, fays I, I cant, Sir,
Then, fays he, with you I'll walk- No, fays I youfhan't, Sir.
Johnny
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