Song XLV., pp.294-297.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]


WHere oxen do low, 

And apple trees grow; 

Where corn is sown, 

And grass is mown; 

Fate give me for life a place. 



Where hay’s well cock’d, 

And udders are stroak’d; 

Where duck and drake 

Cry, quack, quack, quack; 

Where turkeys lay eggs, 

And swine suckle pigs; 

Oh! there I would pass my days. 



On nonght we will feed, 

But what we can breed: 



And wear on our backs 

The wool of our flocks; 

And tho’ linnen feel 

Rough, spun from the wheel, 

‘Tis cleanly tho’ coarse it comes. 



Town follys and cullys, 

And mollys and dollys, 

For ever adieu, and for ever: 



And beaux, that in boxes 

Lye smugg’ling their doxies, 

With wigs that hang down to their bums. 



Good b’uye to the mall 

The park and canal, 

St. James’s square, 

And flaunters there, 

The gaming house too, 

Where high dice and low 

Are manag’d by all degrees. 



Adieu to the knight 

Was bubled last night, 

That keeps a blowze, 

And beats his spouse, 

And then in great haste, 

To pay what he’as lost, 

Sends home to cut down his trees. 



And well fare the lad 

Improves ev’ry clod, 

Who ne’er sets his hand 

To bill or to bond: 



Nor barters his flocks, 

For wine or the pox, 

To chouse him of half his days. 



But fishing and fowling, 

And hunting and bowling, 

His pastime is ever and ever. 



Whose lips, when ye buss ‘em, 

Smell like the bean blossom; 

Oh! he it’s shall have my praise. 



To taverns, where goes 

Sow’r apples and floes, 

A long adieu! 

And farewell too 

The house of the great, 

Whose cook has no meat, 

And butler can’t quench my thirst. 



Farewell to the change, 

Where rantipoles range; 

Farewell cold tea, 

And rattasie, 

Hide-park, where pride 

In coaches ride, 

Altho’ they be choak’d with dust. 



Farewell the law gown, 

The plague of the town, 

And foes of the crown, 

That shou’d be run down: 



With city jack-daws, 

That make staple laws, 

To measure by yards and ells. 



Stock-jobbers and swobbers, 

And packers and tackers, 

For ever adieu, and for ever: 

We know what you’re doing; 

And home we are going; 

And so you may ring your bells. 

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