The Counter Medley
HAIL Poets twelve! None like you e’er were born,
Who merit nothing but Contempt and Scorn.
Illit’rate Dolts! whose muddy Pates contain,
Scandal and Lies, but not a Dram of Brain.
As well as the Ass at other Beasts might carp
And boast his Skill and Knowledge of the Harp,
The hooting Owl as soon might charm our Ears,
And Bull-frogs croak the Music of the Spheres,
As you pretend in tuneful Verse to chime,
Unskill’d in Grammar, Quantity and Rhime,
And ten to five, of good Mince-Pies or Custard
That all you’ve wrote, has neither + Salt or Mustard.
With none but low-life Mob such Trash will pass,
Who know not Sense, from but Nonsense, Gold from Brass,
Nor can distinguish Base, from Sterling Money,
Thus Excrement serves Flies as well as Honey.
But to correct you further, If borbear.
The’Election calls me: Fools and Knaves! Stand clear.
To kidnap Votes, fly MUCKWORM sneaks around,
And like a Mole, is working under Ground.
“My honest Captain! Tho’ thee live at London,
“Sweat and vote for us, or we shall be undone.”
Who can this Upstart’s Insolence endure,
Whose Soul’s as mean and base, as Birth obscure!
And all the Merchandize he has to fell
Springs from the Cabbage of his Father’s* Hell,
But nothing is so proud and vain, as he
That is grown rich, from Want and Beggary.
BLUSTRADO next presents himself to View,
To his own Int’rest, and the Devil’s true.
“They’re Rogues and Rascals, Scoundrels, German Boors,
“Egregious Villains, perjur’d Sons of Whores,
“Who would turn honest Franklin out of Doors.
“Rather than he shall lose an Inch of Ground,
“I swear by….. I’ll spend Three Thousand Pound.
But if his Neighbour Poverty environ,
This Fellow’s Heart’s more hard and cold than Iron.
Ah! Little does his Charity deserve,
Who sees without Concern, the hungry starve.
AVARO next upon the Stage appears,
Laden with Sins, with Money and with Years.
See! The old Sharper, cooking up his stum,
With Sugar, Water, Brandy, Cider, Rum;
Of ev’ry Mixture vile, he makes a Trial,
What wont pass for Madeira, will for Fyall.
If Wines adulterate his Coffers fill,
He values not how many they may kill.
Germans! beware, and with him deal no further,
Lest his Adultery should prove your Murther.
Thrice happy Dan! Whom Daddy loves so well,
To make thee rich, he’s riding post to H----.
* A place under the Taylor’s Shop-Board.
+ Wit or Satire.
[END COLUMN 1]
And thou sweet Youth! Wilt follow his Example,
And under Foot, all Truth and Virtue trample.
Make Room! Make Room! For blund’ring Dicky’s Guts,
Mark his unmeaning Phiz, see how he struts!
Nature! Thy Wisdom’s great, who hast though fit,
To give him Wealth, to cover Want of Wit.
Here comes old TOLLDISH fam’d for his Deceit,
Who in his Flour, nor Measure makes nor Weight,
In him no Truth, no Honesty or Trust is,
His Rogu’ry turn’d him out from being Justice.
A saucy Boy is next brought on the Stage,
Who Forty Years from hence, wont be of Age.
Has Busby oft’ner lash’d this Pigmy’s Breech
He might have cur’d him of his Scribbling Itch,
And taught him Spelling, and eight Parts of Speech.
But now, alas! (so void is he of Sense,)
He knows not Grammar, nor his Accidence.
And, all his little Reading at the School,
Renders him only, an accomplish’d Fool.
Go Child! Go home! Fit in thy Mammy’s Lap
Again, and eat they Balyguts and Pap.
Next comes prim BUCKRAM-TOM, that grogging Sot,
Whose Pride boils over; like a Porridge Pot,
Arm’d with Corinthian Brass for his Defence,
And more than treble Stock of Impudence.
His Lies and Falshood well deserve Rebuke,
Tho’ from his Name, he thinks himself a Duke.
And why mayn’t Fortune sordid Earth refine,
And from a Dunghill drawn a Meteor Shine?
Have you not often seen on Signpost high,
A chatt’ring Monkey look with scornful Eye,
On those of human Shape, who pass’d hi by?
‘Till of his Hat and Doublet stript; but then
The jackanapes appear’d a jackanapes agen.
View next the Man, who leads a PATRIOT’s Life,
Yet fructifies on a poor Potter’s Wife.
The Fact most plain and flagrant now appears,
For he has us’d her more than twenty Years.
In youthful Days, one Doxy would not do
He kept in Pay both DEB and MARGET too,
But when grown old (tho’ he her Life could save)
He let the latter starve into her Grave.
Had he allow’d her wherewithal to thrive,
The DAM of EXCELLENCE had been alive.
All his Designs concenter in himself;
For building Castles, and amassing Pelf..
And can you than imagin, stupid Fools!
Whom he has wrought on to be Slaves and Tools,
Thjat he the PUBLIC will not sell for Gain,
Who PRIVATE Property did ne’er maintain?
[END COLUMN 2]
If so; burn Incense to your Idol God,
Think yourselves blest, if he vouchsafe a Nod;
Confide in him again your Cash to keep,
And vote a Wolf, the Guardian of your Sheep.
Here Bully ROUNDHEAD comes, a Sage Divine
Who Adoration pays at * Plutus’ Shrine.
A might Zealot once for Luther’s Church,
But long since left his Master in the Lurch.
Not Godliness, but Gold’s his only View;
No Crime to him tho’ e’er so vile is new,
A cheating Publican, and Quaker jew.
With Tickets fraught, behold the Quack young DOLLAR
Whose Father well deserv’d a hempen Collar.
And if we may presage from what is done,
No less may be expected from the Son.
Come Jock! Advance, hold up thy ugly Face,
Of thy own Sect and Party the Disgrace.
Mind him, good People! If he walks or stands,
Like an Endorser padling with his Hands.
No Bags, by Sales of Land had e’er been fill’d,
Had not his poor unhappy Friend been kill’d.
But now grown rich, proud, fancy and uncivil,
On Horseback set, he’s riding to the D-----.
STIFFRUMP comes next whose Head tho’ great is such,
As never furnish’d was, with over much.
Glad wou’d he be(cou’d he but find the way)
To make Mankind to him low Homage pay.
Observe him well, when e’er he Silence Breaks,
How big he swells, what fustian Language speaks.
“O Jemmy! Jemmy! If that thee are wife,
“Thee will immediately get up and rise,
“Nor stand thus idly lying in thy Bed,
“But shake dull Sleep from off thy drousy Head;
“To Court! To Court! If we’re outdonein Votes,
“The Presbyterians will cut all our Throats;
“And therefore I to look out sharp, am sent,
“A dismal Tragedy for to prevent.
This, this is he, who on the Bench would fit
Tam diu, quam se bene gesserit,
Well vers’d, be sure, and learned in the Laws,
Fit to determine ev’ry doubtful Cause.
The last and worst now blusters on the Plain
One, whom just Heav’n has mark’d like cursed Cain.
Who with his Horsewhip threatens Blows and Knocks,
And swers that poor old DOVE has got the P---.
But if this vile Report’s authentic found
DOVE offers to the Poor five hundred Pound,
Which shall be paid; but not as t’other Day
Delusive Wagers were on Flats and Hay.
In Scandal sure, the Devil can’t go higher
Than what’s invented by this foulmouth’d Squire.
* The GOD of Riches
[END COLUMN 3]
Tho’ none but Fools the Crackbrain will believe
Who owns the Public he did once deceive.
But now, like Homer, I begin to Nod,
Smile into sleep, and so let fall my Rod.
__________________________________________
A SONG
To the Tune of a Free and an ACCEPTED MASON.
1.
Come let us prepare
We true Men that are,
(The Poll being at a Conclusion)
To drink laugh and sing
‘Till we make the House ring
For the Quakers are now in Confusion.
2.
Joy, Joy to them all
Who occasion’d their Fall,
That these Fellows no longer might wrong us,
Our Choice let us prize,
Then will from the Skies
Banish’d Justice once more come among us.
3.
* To the Patriot FEW,
A Bumper is due,
Whose Virture stands nobly confest Sir,
We may safely depend,
Our Rights they’ll defend,
And against all injustice protest Sir.
4.
For base, dirty Jobs,
These will ne’er drain your Fobs,
Nor deveive you when e’er you make Trial
But the Quakers, you know,
Have not serv’d you so
For tho’ they wont swear they will lie all.
5.
Drink a Health to the Boors
Who turn’d BEN out of Doors
And like Heroes erected their Banners
For he said they wer Swine
Who did Herd and combine
To spread both their Language and Manners,
6.
Go on, you brave Men!
Never chuse him agen,
Who GERMANS was always reviling,
If you till our Plains,
We partake of the Gains
And rich Industry ever is smiling.
7.
Charge your Glasses agen
To remember old PENN,
Nor certain, for uncertain barter,
See! His Heirs rule the Roast,
While we Liberty boast,
And the Privilege of a good Charter.
8.
Let each be content
With a just Government,
Nor regard what a Faction may bray Sir,
Who, if they were able
Like Frogs in the Fable,
Would cause a Change every Day, Sir.
MINORITY
