We wait, we run, cajole each Dun,
Who threatens with the Laws Disasters,
In Taverns snore, on Bench 'till four,
Then bring the Miss for Morning Bliss,
And often snack her with our Masters.
And often snack her with our Masters.
At Seasons when the Senate's sitting,
We mimick each Law-maker there,
Without Doors those within outwitting,
And act the Speaker in the Chair;
With Votes and Pleas,
And Means and Ways,
We ape the Legislative Jurys,
At th' end o' th' Day
We see a play,
There full of Ale
The Gallery scale,
And roar, and clatter like the Furys.
Oft-times by Order 'tis our Duty,
To go to the Play-house and take Rooms,
There cheek by jole we sit with Beauty,
And out-do clearly all Perfumes,
Or if no Play
Will please that Day,
We're hurried strait to Hide-Park Corner,
There Crambo sing
Of all the Ring,
What wanton Wives
Lead Modish Lives,
And who's the Cuckold, who's the Horner.
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