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Where Christian and Jew,
And the devil knows who ! Shall complete my edition of Babel.
As no priest 's in the place,
Let Nic's Chaplain say grace, To quiet some scrupulous laymen;
And little Jack Gorgon, *
My orator, organ!
"Tis pleasant enough,
Tho' the mutton run tough, To see how the rogues tooth and nail it !
Like flies in a shamble,
They join in the scramble, With appetite good-what should ail it?
Lest brandy, or rum,
Should intoxicate some,
Instead of blue-ruin,
We've Adam's own brewingA much better drink, by your
* The sometime profane Sunday Jack-Pudding of the Sans Souci :-The Fox that had lost its Tail !
As soon as my spinners
Have finish'd their dinners, (Soup-maigre, if beef they'd the last time,)
The girls, for ten minutes,
Shall play on their spinnets ;
The old men and women
I'll treat with the skimming
Abernethy, queer chap !
Says an afternooni nap
I'll tell the good folk,
That religion's a joke,
That man is a brute,
Is beyond a dispute ;
That vice is a name,
And that virtue's the same,
See, my “ Essay,"* in print,
* Essay on human character-proving (?) that the character is made for the man-- Ergo-Man is not a responsible being.
Yet I'll give 'em the hint,
No advantage to miss-
Its favourite dish is
The loaves and the fishes ;
And liberty also,
At least what I call so !
* The following Ode has been attributed to a distinguished disciple of the “ New View.” It is entitled
PHILANTHROPIST ! for prudence' sake,
As thro’ life's thorny vale you run;
Especial care of Number One.
Profession's easy, words are cheap,
A thing is sooner said, than done;
Still keep your eye on Number One!
The Indian worships wood and stone,
The fiery fanatic, the sun;
And what is Self-but Number One ?
And honesty true,
Is right worshipful too, When a man can get nothing by knavery!
ls to level all down, Who in fame or in fortune o'ercrow us ;
And then, vice versa,
To grind without mercy, The poor needy devils below us !
Is the Quaker's old text-
Thou'lt always be found,
To make sure of a pound, Before thou dost part with a penny !
The bosom that grieves,
And the hand that relieves, At pity's soft impulse, is erring:
I laugh at the flat,
Who would throw out a sprat, Unless he can pull up a herring !
Fine feeling's a hum,
And a hoax—“ Homo sum,"
We stoics, "jam satis,"
Think advice, given gratis, Enough for poor folks, when they want aid.
The Owenite rule,
Is be cautious, and cool, Indiff'rent to all things, and all men ;
Your mind, in a freak,
Never venture to speak; Truth spoke out of time, may enthral men.
In all that
you do, Let a sinister view Be your counsel, your guide, and director;
In all that you say,
Go the round-about way, So ends the first part of my
I hold it imprudent,
To drive the young student Up Learning's ascent by coercion ;
Or e'en to encourage,
Beyond his pease-porridge,
My blockheads I teach,
Without birching their breech, By a method that well may surprise one ;