A Trifling song ye shall hear,
Begun with a trifle and ended;
All trifling people draw near,
And I shall be nobly attended.
Were it not for trifles a few,
That lately came into the play,
The men would want something to do,
The women want something to say.
What makes men trifle in dressing?
Because the ladies, they know,
Admire, by often caressing
That eminent trifle, a beau.
When the lover his moments has trified,
The trifle of trifles to gain,
No sooner the virgin is rifled,
But a trifle shall part them again.
What mortal wou’d ever be able,
At Whyte’s half a moment to fit?
Or who is’t cou’d bear a tea-table,
Without talking trifles for wit?
The court is from trifles secure,
Gold keys are no trifes we see;
White rods are no trifles I’m sure,
Whatever their bearers may be.
But if you will go to the place,
Where trifles abundantly breed,
The levee will show you, his grace
Makes promises trifles indeed!
A coach with fix footmen behind,
I count neither trifle nor sin;
But ye gods! how oft do we find
A scandalous trifle within?
A flask of champaign people think it
A trifle, or something as bad;
But if you’ll contrive how to drink it,
You’ll find it no trifle by gad.
A parson’s a trifle at sea,
A widow’s a trifle in sorrow,
A peace is a trifle to day,
To break it a trifle to morrow.
A black coat a trifle may cloke,
Or to hide it the red may endeavour;
But if once the army is broke,
We shall have more trifles than ever.
The stage is a trifle they say,
The reason pray carry along;
Because that at every new play,
The house they with trifles so throng.
But with people’s malice to trifle,
And to set us all on a foot;
The author of this is a trifle,
And his song is a trifle to boot.