Twa three todlin' weans they hae,
The pride o' a' Stra'bogie;
Whene'er the totums cry for meat,
She curses aye his cogie,
Crying, "Wae betide the three-gir'd cog!
Oh, wae betide the cogie !
It does mair skaith than a' the ills
That happen in Stra'bogie."
She fand him ance at Willie Sharpe's;
And what the maist did laugh at,
She brak the bicker, spilt the drink,
And tightly gouff'd his haffet,
Crying, "Wae betide the three-gir'd cog!
Oh, wae betide the cogie!
It does mair skaith than a' the ills
That happen in Stra'bogie.
Yet here's to ilka honest soul
Wha'll drink wi' me a cogie;
And for ilk silly whinging fool,
We'll dook him in the Bogie.
For I maun hae my cogie, sirs,
I canna want my cogie;
I wadna gie my three-gir'd cog
For a' the wives in Bogie.
WHILE in her fairy bow'r alone,
Sophia like a Houri shone,
Supreme on beauty's dazzling throne,
My panting breath grew frantic.
Long had I doubted, blush'd and sigh'd,
But now I press'd her to decide,
When thus she spoke, and I replied,
In language unromantic.
"I would not, Charles, for worlds, encroach-
But will you build a new town coach,
And britzka too? that no reproach
May reach our happy marriage."
"No, Sophy! those bewitching feet
Were form'd to trip through Regent Street;
That graceful swing! Say, who can beat
Your own smart, easy carriage?"
"In Belgrave-square I covet most
A tasteful house.-The Morning Post
Might then print many a tale and boast
Of our domestic glory."
"The New Road, Sophy, I admire ;
To lodgings only, I aspire;
A second floor!-I can't soar higher:
The hero of one story."
"At least you'll not curtail my clothes,
My blond, my flounces, my gigots,
Or call Carson's or Ma'ame Triaud's
Accounts at Christmas teasing !"
"Dear girl! I like but little waste,
Gigots, our own plain cook shall baste,
The only long bills, to my taste,
Are woodcocks, when in season."
"For Almack's, have you any doubt
That we are fixed, the spring throughout?
I long, dear Charles, to roam about
Those regions so enchanting."
"Three maiden aunts, with pipes as shrill
As Colinett's, will prove their skill
On basto, ponto.-A quadrille
At home, shall ne'er be wanting."
"Too cruel Charles, will you secure My jointure, or your life insure? Were I all foresight to abjure,
My friends would blame my blindness."
"Why, Sophy! you would ne'er forgive
Your husband, if he did not strive
That you should not his loss survive!
I'll kill you first with kindness."
"Time past, you offer'd to devote
Your heart and fortune, Charles-you wrote
What I believed a dear fond note;
Its words were sweet as honey."
"True, Sophy, but you made me wait
So long, the note is out of date;
I've mortgaged since my whole estate,
And spent my ready money."
"Oh, Charles ! 'tis useless to repine :
House, carriage, jewels, I resign,
And jointure too-the loss be mine,
Poor victim of affection!"
'Agreed, kind girl! we'll now remove
All protocols. A husband's love
Shall guarantee (your smiles approve)
A treaty of protection."
Ye timid swains! be not dismay'd,
For maids, in hearts, as dealers, trade,
They quickly sell, when they're afraid
That Cupid's darts get rusty.
To you, ye fair! a poet's song
Presents this hint (he means no wrong)
That love, like wine, if kept too long,
Grows vapid, sour, and crusty.
EACH action of life, whether losing or winning,
You all will acknowledge must have a beginning;The Boy must have a beginning to walk
The Girl must have a beginning to talk.
The Boy, when he walks well, will soon learn to run,
And th' tongue of the Girl you think ne'er will have done.
Thus each action of life, whether losing or winning,
You all will acknowledge, must have a beginning.
The beginning of business makes hope very high,
The beginning of love is a glance from the eye;
The beginning of courtship is some trifling thing,
The beginning of wedlock's a little gold ring.
The beginning a journey, whiche'er way you bend,
Like life's journey, you know not how it may end;
Thus each action of life, whether losing or winning,
You all will acknowledge, must have a beginning.
The beginning of illness at first may be slight,
As evening is the beginning of night;
From indisposition you get very ill,
Which sure is to end in a doctor's long bill.
Your wife, friends and children beginning to cry,
Make you beginning to think you may die;
Each action of life, whether losing or winning,
You all will acknowledge, must have a beginning.
The beginning a law-suit you easily learn,
But the ending is always a doubtful concern;
Before it does end you're beginning to curse,
And beginning to come to the end of your purse—
Like beginning a song with a voice very fine,
And sticking before you get through the third line;
Thus each action of life, whether losing or winning,
You all will acknowledge, must have a beginning.
[Music by Sir H. R. BISHOP.
INVITATIONS I will write,
All the world I will invite.
I will deign to show civility,
To the tip tops of gentility;
To the cream of the nobility,
I'm "at home" next Monday night.
See my footman, how he runs!
Ev'ry paltry street he shuns,
I'm "
at home" to peers and peeresses,
Who reside in squares and terraces,
I'm "at home" to heirs and heiresses,
And, of course, to eldest sons.
I'm "at home" to all the set,
Of exclusives I have met.
If a rival open has her doors,
All the coronets shall pass her doors,
I'm "at home" to the Ambassadors,
Though their names I quite forget.
I'm "at home" to guardsmen all,
Be they short, or be they tall;
I'm "at home" to men political,
Poetical and critical,
And the punning men of wit, I call
Acquisitions at a ball.
Oh! the matchless Collinet,
On his flageolet shall play;
How I love to hear the thrill of it!
Pasta's song think what she will of it,
He will make a quick quadrille of it,
66 Dove sono,"-
"-dance away.
A SINGLE man of twenty-two,
I'm sorely, sorely tried;
In daily martyrdom I live,
In Hoxton I reside.
My board-and-lodging wrongs and woes
My spirits ever vex ;
My cup of life is fill'd with nought
But Fortune's trouble X!
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