Now should great Fate ordain it so, That this poor docile beast, Whom thou hast term’d so very low, E’en lowest of the least: I say, should ancient Baalam’s steed, (For so thou nam’st the man) Tell thee in time to take good heed, Thy manners rough to scan; Or if, like thee, he write with ire, And ask in angry strains, What set thy sleepy muse on fire, Or rous’d thy muddy brains? Nay further, should he analize The words “Oxygen Gas,” He might make thee a monst’rous size, E’en, larger than an ass! The thought will no great time afford, Nor needs much Orthodox, For, take four letters from the word, It makes thee out an OX. I think the appellation suits, Yet this believe from me, Had thou not been so fond of brutes, I’d not made one of thee. Adieu then, ancient Egypt’s god, Or shall I call thee bull? When next thou handles Satyr’s rod, Pray write thy name in full. For two initials, such as thine, Might make dame dullness pause, And simple poets of the Tyne, Find terms in Nature’s laws. By adding _letters_ to the two Which thou hast late put down; No, faith, I have not time just now, And _Modesty_ might frown. THE RAREE SHOW MAN. _An Election Song._--(20th September, 1780.) _The following Verses, at an Election Song, being rather contrary to the general Arrangement of this Work, but possessing Novelty, must plead for its Insertion._ Allons, sweet childs, of smooth complexion, Come see de grande, de rare election, Me show de hole in much perfection. Doodle, doodle, doo. No congstable on me doth frownee, In dis Newcastel famous townee, Vare some veare breaches, some de gounee. Doodle, doodle, doo. But den before dat I do callee, You give me sixpence, price is smallee; And den I’ll nothing ask at allee. Doodle, doodle, doo. In fronte, you see de agents coming, Vast great, much consequence assuming, Far, farther far, than is becoming. Doodle, doodle, doo. See dere de vulgar _scum_ begin it, Den next de Sylock _bankiers_ pin it; Ah dere!--de devil’s selfe is in it. Doodle, doodle, doo. O wonderful! how dey do tumble, Just like de Jack of cards dey tumble, De kings, with knaves and duces humble. Doodle, doodle, doo. Dare de parson, lawyer, scrambles, Dare physic doctors in de shambles, Vere some do make de long preambles! Doodle, doodle, doo. See all de shop-folks gaping, staring, Few understanding, fewer caring, Vether perjury be swearing! Doodle, doodle, doo. Oh bless us! how you slaves are roaring, Deir cunning patrons stagger snoring, Inclined pocket trusting more in. Doodle, doodle, doo.