Song XLIII., pp.289-291.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

SHE. 

PRay now, John, let Jug prevail, 

Doff thy sword, and take a flail; 

Wounds and blows, and scorching heat, 

Will abroad be all you’ll get. 

– 

HE. 

‘Sounds! you are mad, ye simple jade, 

Begone, and don’t prate. 

– 

SHE. 

How think ye I shall do, 

With Hob and Sue

And all our brats when wanting you? 

– 

ΗΕ. 

When I am rich with plunder, 

Thou my gain shall share. 

– 

SHE. 

My share will be but small, I fear, 

When bold dragoons have been pickering there, 

And the flea-flints the Germans strip ‘em bare. 

– 

HE. 

Mind your spinning, 

Mend your linnen, 

Look to your cheese you, 

Your pigs and your geese too. 

– 

SHE. 

No, no, I’ll ramble out with you. 

– 

HE. 

Blood and fire, if you tire 

Thus my patience, 

With vexations and narrations, 

Thumping, thumping, thumping 

Is the fatal word, Joan

– 

SHE. 

Do, do, I’m good at thumping too. 

– 

HE. 

Morbleau! that huff shall never do. 

– 

SHE. 

Come, come, John, let’s buss and be friends, 

Thus still, thus love’s quarrel ends; 

I my tongue sometimes let run, 

But alas! I soon have done. 

– 

HE. 

‘Tis well you re quash’d, 

You’d else been thrash’d, 

Sure as my name is John

– 

SHE. 

Yet fain I’d know for what 

You’re all so hot, 

To go to fight where nothing’s got. 

– 

ΗΕ. 

Fortune will prove kind, 

And we shall then grow great. 

– 

SHE. 

Grow great! 

And want both drink and meat, 

And coin, unless the pamper’d French you beat: 

Ah John! take care John! 

And learn more wit. 

– 

ΗΕ. 

Dare you prate still, 

At this rate still, 

And like a vermin, 

Grudge my preferment. 

– 

SHE. 

You’ll beg, or get a wooden leg. 

– 

ΗΕ. 

Nay, if bawling, catterwawling, 

Tittle tattle, prittle prattle, 

Still must rattle; 

I’ll be gone, and straight aboard. 

– 

SHE. 

Do, do, and so shall Hob and Sue

Jug too, and all the ragged crew. 

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