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135. lappuse - Good people all of every sort, Give ear unto my song, And if you find it wondrous short, It cannot hold you long. In Islington there was a man, Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran, Whene'er he went to pray. A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes ! The naked every day he clad, When he put on his clothes.
135. lappuse - Whene'er he went to pray. A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad, When he put on his clothes. And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound. And curs of low degree. This dog and man at first were friends; But when a pique began, The dog, to gain some private ends. Went mad, and bit the man.
145. lappuse - Who in their coaches roll along the turnpikeRoad, what hard work 'tis crying all day, ' Knives and Scissors to grind O ! ' ' Tell me, knife-grinder, how came you to grind knives ? Did some rich man tyrannically use you ? Was it the squire ? or parson of the parish ? Or the attorney ? ' Was it the squire, for killing of his game ? or Covetous parson, for his tithes distraining ? Or roguish lawyer, made you lose your little All in a lawsuit ? ' (Have you not read the Rights of Man, by Tom Paine ?),...
12. lappuse - Now Jove suspends his golden scales in air, Weighs the men's wits against the lady's hair: The doubtful beam long nods from side to side; At length the wits mount up, the hairs subside. See fierce Belinda on the baron flies, With more than usual lightning in her eyes: Nor fear'd the chief th' unequal fight to try, Who sought no more than on his foe to die.
19. lappuse - I'ma wretch, indeed methinks I see him already in the cart, sweeter and more lovely than the nosegay in his hand! I hear the crowd extolling his resolution and intrepidity ! What volleys of sighs are sent from the windows of Holborn, that so comely a youth should be brought to disgrace ! I see him at the tree ! The whole circle are in tears!
12. lappuse - twixt reading and bohea, To muse, and spill her solitary tea, Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon, Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon ; Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire, Hum half a tune, tell stories to the squire ; Up to her godly garret after seven, There starve and pray, for that's the way to heaven.
22. lappuse - These are the heroes that despise the Dutch, And rail at new-come foreigners so much, Forgetting that themselves are all derived From the most scoundrel race that ever lived; A horrid crowd of rambling thieves and drones, Who ransacked kingdoms and dispeopled towns, The Pict and painted Briton, treacherous Scot, By hunger, theft, and rapine hither brought; Norwegian pirates, buccaneering Danes, Whose red-haired offspring everywhere remains, Who, joined with Norman-French, compound the breed From...