The Comic Almanack, Volume 1: An Ephemeris in Jest and Earnest, Containing Merry Tales, Humerous Poetry, Quips, and Oddities — David Hume — John Shaqi
The Comic Almanack, Volume 1: An Ephemeris in Jest and Earnest, Containing Merry Tales, Humerous Poetry, Quips, and Oddities
David Hume · en
The pelted village idol, by the way,
With hideous grin uplifts his hoary pate,
To make a parson swear, or poacher pray,
Or frighten some old woman passing late.
Perchance a supple New Poor-Law Commissioner,
On plans of pauper diet deep intent,
May start and think of some white-haired petitioner,
Turned out to starve by act of parliament.
But what cares he for hot, cold, wet, or dry?
Thanks to the Whigs, he gets his sal-a-ry.
12 Lavater d. 1801.
"I think I've seen your face before."
"WERRY LIKE."
26 Botany Bay colonized, 1788.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Rejoice and praise, in merry lays,
The wisdom of the wigs,
Which kindly found, on classic ground,
A paradise for prigs.
Assembled there, in talent rare,
Each knave salutes a brother,
And friendly yet, their wit they whet,
By practice on each other.
31 Young Pretender d. 1788. _N.B._ Race not extinct.
MY DANCING DAYS ARE OVER.
_By the Gentleman in the White Waistcoat._
My dancing days are over now,
My legs are just like stumps;
My fount of youth dried up, alas!
Wont answer to the pumps,
Yet who so fond of jigs as I?
Of hornpipes such a lover?
Of gallops, valses,—but, alas!
My dancing days are over.
In feats of feet, what foot like mine
(Excuse me if vain-glorious:)
Like mine for grace and dignity
No toe was more notorious.
Oh! then what joy it was to hear
_Roy's Wife_ or _Kitty Clover_!
But _Drops of Brandy_ now won't do:
My dancing days are over.
My feet seem fastened down with screws,
That were so glib before;
And my ten light fantastic toes
Seem toe'-nailed to the floor.
I cannot bear a ball room now,
Where once I lived in clover;
Terpsichore quite made me sick;
My dancing days are over.
I used to dance the New Year in,
And dance the Old Year out;
Ah! little did I then reflect
That _chacun à son_ gout,
All summer thro' I skipped and hopped,
At Margate, Ramsgate, Dover.
The year was then one spring—but now
My dancing days are over.