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Since folly and fashion's so prone in the land,
Here's thousands of tradesmen are all at a stand;
Tho' price and presumption go hand in hand,
Many a one up and down, broke and gone,
The Lady's ambition has ruin'd their trade.
To offend the dear Ladies I'd not say a word,
Tho' they're slaves to the folly I think so absurd,
By scenting their clothes with Muscovy cat's turd,
That the fumes of their plumes, flies in my brain,
Gives me the vapours when them I come near.
Their favourite lap dogs how deliciously fed,
Shock rides in the coach, soft velvet his bed,
While a hungry child, on the hard boards lays its head.
All the night shocking plight, take me right,
They value their animals more than a child.
The next is a beau, Sir Vanity Vain,
His snuff-box is open each minute with pains,
To fill his head fuller of snuff than of brains,
So mighty wise, and precise, what with
Powder and hair you can fcarce see his nose.
For lott'ry adventurers here's china compleat,
Silver table and tea-spoons, all equipage neat,
Off the bed to the pop-shops, away goes the sheets,
Their luck so try, now they buy, a policy,
And dreaming all night of this tea-table prize.
Such folly and times in poor Britain was never,
Here's wit all in rags, and folly in feather,
By Providence thus we're all huddl'd together,
So the life of man is but a span, like an
Air balloon, wonder when lost in the air.
A TRIP TO BOTANY BAY.
COME,come my lads, for we must away,
Bound down in irons to Botany Bay;
