Page:Golden days of good Queen Bess (2).pdf/7

 As our small clothes, by prudes,
 * are pronounc'd inexpressibles;

And the taste of our Beaux won't
 * admit of dispute, Sir,

When they ride in their slippers,
 * and walk about in boots, Sir Such are, &c

Our language is refi'd too,
 * from what was of yore Sir,

As a shoe string's the dandy,
 * and buckles quite a boré, Sie:

And if rais'd from the dead,
 * it wou'd sure poze the noddle, Sir,

Of a bake spege, to tell what's
 * the she Tippy, or the Twaddle, Sir Such, &c

Then for props of the state,
 * what can equal in story Sir?

Those two stately pillars call'd
 * a Whig and a Pony, Sir;.

Though by shifting their ground,
 * they sometimes get so wrong, Sir,

They forget to which side of
 * the house they belong, Such are, &c

But as props of their strength,
 * and uprightness may boast, Sir,

Whilst the proudest of pillars
 * may be shook by a post, Sir;

May the firm friends of freedom
 * her blessings inherit, Sir,