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Side 135 - Good people all of every sort, Give ear unto my song, And if you find it wondrous short, It cannot hold you long. In Islington there was a man, Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran, Whene'er he went to pray. A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes ! The naked every day he clad, When he put on his clothes.
Side 135 - Whene'er he went to pray. A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad, When he put on his clothes. And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound. And curs of low degree. This dog and man at first were friends; But when a pique began, The dog, to gain some private ends. Went mad, and bit the man.
Side 145 - Who in their coaches roll along the turnpikeRoad, what hard work 'tis crying all day, ' Knives and Scissors to grind O ! ' ' Tell me, knife-grinder, how came you to grind knives ? Did some rich man tyrannically use you ? Was it the squire ? or parson of the parish ? Or the attorney ? ' Was it the squire, for killing of his game ? or Covetous parson, for his tithes distraining ? Or roguish lawyer, made you lose your little All in a lawsuit ? ' (Have you not read the Rights of Man, by Tom Paine ?),...
Side 12 - Now Jove suspends his golden scales in air, Weighs the men's wits against the lady's hair: The doubtful beam long nods from side to side; At length the wits mount up, the hairs subside. See fierce Belinda on the baron flies, With more than usual lightning in her eyes: Nor fear'd the chief th' unequal fight to try, Who sought no more than on his foe to die.
Side 19 - I'ma wretch, indeed— methinks I see him already in the cart, sweeter and more lovely than the nosegay in his hand! —I hear the crowd extolling his resolution and intrepidity !— What volleys of sighs are sent from the windows of Holborn, that so comely a youth should be brought to disgrace ! — I see him at the tree ! The whole circle are in tears!
Side 12 - twixt reading and bohea, To muse, and spill her solitary tea, Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon, Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon ; Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire, Hum half a tune, tell stories to the squire ; Up to her godly garret after seven, There starve and pray, for that's the way to heaven.
Side 22 - These are the heroes that despise the Dutch, And rail at new-come foreigners so much, Forgetting that themselves are all derived From the most scoundrel race that ever lived; A horrid crowd of rambling thieves and drones, Who ransacked kingdoms and dispeopled towns, The Pict and painted Briton, treacherous Scot, By hunger, theft, and rapine hither brought; Norwegian pirates, buccaneering Danes, Whose red-haired offspring everywhere remains, Who, joined with Norman-French, compound the breed From...