Page:Whistling daughter.pdf/7



HIS life is like a country dance,

The world a ſpacious hall room,

In which ſo many take a prance,

They ſcarcely find for all room;

Fiddlers and pipers in a row,

See how the ranks are cloſing,

Each ſtrives his neighbour's faults to ſhew,

While he's his own expoſing,

Pray, Ma'am, what dance have you call’d?

Matrimony, Ma'am. The figure is extremely ea-

ſy. you turn ſingle, run away with your pariner,

lead up the middle, back to back, part and change

partners.

Thus buſied in the fond turmoil,

They time by folly meaſure,

Turn all the pleaſure into toil,

And fancy toil a pleaſure.

Some in full dance with ardour burn,

And wim, and glide, and wander,

While others waiting for their turn,

Sneer, ſmile, and deal out flander;

And ſo the Count muſt run away!

Why really I'm afraid ſo;

His flirt has ruin'd him at play,

Poor man, I always ſaid ſo

O no doubt about it, kept by a Phyſician before

ſhe came to the Count, duel with a young apothe-

cary; ſyrenges loaded with analeptic pills. ’Tis

your turn to begin, Sir. Sir, I beg your pardon.

Chor. Thus buſied in the fond turmoil, etc,