Page:Bride's burial.pdf/8

 My ſhop well furniſh'd out with blocks,

becomes an exhibition,

Of heads of ev'ry age and kind,

and every condition;

A lawyer's head without a quirk,

without chicane a Proctor's,

A Lady's head without a tongue,

without a noſtrum Doctors. Bow, wow, &c.

A Poet's head without a rhyme,

& Wit's too without punning,

Without a crochet Fidler's head,

a Jockey's without cunning;

A Cuckold's head devoid of horns,

his Wife's without invention,

A Barber's head without his brains,

and others I could mention. Bow, wow, &c.

And let none of the wicked Wits,

deſpiſe my occupation,

The greater always ſhaves the leſs,

in every rank and ſtation;

The Rich will ever ſhave the poor,

the Miniſter, an't pleaſe ye,

Will lather you with promiſes,

and ſhave you mighty eaſy, Bow, wow, &c.

And Shavers keen I trow there are,

of every profeſſion,

But pardon now my cuſtomers,

this whimſical digreſſion;

And walk into my noted ſhop,

I ſhave as clean as any,

And when I've done it to your mind,

will charge you but one penny.

Bow, wow, wow, I am a Barking Barber.