The undying and the doom'd may whine, For what their fate compared with mine- HIS WORSHIP. [Music by DIBDIN. CHARLES DIBDIN.] Regardless of the public, their praises or their sneers. Master Matthew was his clerk, a keen and cunning wight, Studied Cunningham and Burn, for the law has various meanings: "Remember," cried his worship, "when I'm wrong to set me right, For you're my representative, factotum, locum tenens." Fomenting litigation, the neighbours flock around; One came to get a warrant—a shilling was the cost; "Here, Matthew, bring the book." Sir, 'tis nowhere to be found." "Zounds! he'll repent-what shall we do? the shilling will be lost. Swear, damme! and pay sixpence-I fancy that's the rule; Those who can't get the harvest must sit down with the gleanings; How could you be so careless? You dolt! you stupid fool!" "Your worship's representative, factotum, locum tenens." A rich lady 'gainst a helpless girl most loudly did complain; "Here, Matthew, make her mittimus, ne'er mind how she cajoles "We must not, sir, commit her-the law we cannot strain, And the superior courts would haul your worship o'er the coals. I could not for the soul of me distress so sweet a lass ; For justice' sake, to equity the heart should have these leanings." "You're not proper for your place, sir-you're a goose, an oaf, an ass!" "Your worship's representative, factotum, locum tenens " Next day this pretty damsel was walking in a field ; His worship pass'd by too, and began to toy and play; "You were yesterday my prisoner-to-day to you I 66 yield;" She ran for life, while he pursued, and begg'd of her to stay. 'Sir, is this justice? O for shame!" lovely fair - "'Tis justice, For justice on the bench and in love has diff'rent meanings; Nay, struggle not "Is there no friend? no hope?" "None! Zounds! who's there?" "Your worship's representative, factotum, locum teneus. "You hired me, sir, to set you right whenever you were wrong; For once, then, justice practise, sir, since justice you dispense; Give me this pretty damsel-we've loved each other long And ne'er oppress those honest hearts that merit your defence." Cried Gander," Matthew, I'm the goose, the ass, and have been blind; I now see law and equity have very diff'rent mean ings; Henceforth the poor shall bless me; and may each great man find As able, as upright, and as just a locum tenens." TWO WENCHES AT ONCE. THOMAS HUDSON.] [Tune-" Margery Toppig." TILL I fell in love, I wur happy enow, At threshing or reaping, at harrow or plough; Tol de rol lol de rol lay. Cupid, quite envious of my happy life, 'Bout love and such-like things completely a dunce, I fell slap in love wi' two wenches at once. The miller's young daughter, she gave the first twist, Her lips lok'd as if like they long'd to be kiss'd; And whiles I gazed at her, 'twixt love and surprise, I was fairly struck dumb by her sister's bright eyes! Mary was fair as an angel could be, Eyes like sweet Betsy's I never did see ; I tried all in vain my hot feelings to smother, If I went to see Mary, to her I was blind, When Betsy look'd at me, or when Mary smiled, "Twas all of no use, I look'd this or that way, Things went on thus for five or six week, Young men, be advised; if love gets in your sconce, THERE'S NO KNOWING WHAT YOU MAY COME TO. J. LABERN.] [Tune-"Charlie over the Water." IF ever misfortune 'gainst man did combine, To double my five thousand pounds how I thought, You may turn up your nose at hard work, and It's what you would never succumb to ; When I think how my cash, that for years twentynine, I'd been scraping should, presto! elope, sirs, I rail at myself being drawn in a line, And wish mysel drawn in a rope, sirs. Once I'd a house and all else to accord, The parties I used to give, week after week, The cold looks of my friends, whom I once received well, Are the ices I meet now, so glum, too- It's hard that they pass me, because I'm no swell--But you never know what you may come to, You may turn, &c. With poultry my table did once groan and growl- With sirloins of beef once my larder was packed, But the joints are, alas! all my eye, sirs. So what with my crosses, and losses, and strife, Moore observes in his song, "They may rail at this life;" |