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 I turn'd away, and pleas'd myself,
 * With John of Badenyon.

I thought I should be wiser next,
 * And would a Patriot turn,

Began to doat on Johnny Wilker,
 * And cry up Parson Hora

Their manly courage I admir'd.
 * Approv'd their noble zeal,

Who had, with flaming tongue and pen,
 * Maintain'd the public weal.

But e'er a month or two was past,
 * I found myself betray'd,

'Twas self and party after all,
 * For all the stir they made,

For when I saw the factious knaves,
 * Insult the very throne,

I curs'd them all, and turn'd my pipe,
 * To John of Badenyon.

What to do next I mus'd a while,
 * Still hoping to succeed,

I pitch'd on books for company,
 * And gravely try to read;

I bought and borrow'd every-where,
 * And studied night and day:

Ne'er miss'd what Dean or Doctor wrote,
 * That happen'd in my way.