An Island in the Moon/Chapter IX

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[PAGE 10]

Chap 9

“I say, this evening [we'd] we'll all get drunk. I say — dash! an Anthem an Anthem!” said Suction.

              “Lo the Bat with Leathern wing,
               Winking & blinking,
               Winking & blinking,
               Winking & blinking,
               Like Doctor Johnson.”
  
   Quid.    ‘Oho’, said Doctor Johnson
                To Scipio Africanus,
                ‘If you dont own me a Philosopher
                I’ll kick your Roman Anus’.”
  
   Suction.  “A ha To Doctor Johnson
                 Said Scipio Africanus
                 Lift up my Roman Petticoatt
                 And kiss my Roman Anus.’”
  
                 “And the Cellar goes down with a Step.” (Grand Chorus.)

“Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho, Hom Hooooo, my poooooor siiides! I I should die if I was to live here! said Scopprell. “Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho!”

                 1st Vo. Want Matches
                 2d Vo.  Yes Yes Yes
                 1st Vo. Want Matches
                 2d Vo.  No----------
  
                 1st Vo. “Want Matches?”
                 2d Vo.  “Yes Yes Yes ”
                 1st Vo. “Want Matches”
                 2d Vo.  “No---------”

Here was Great confusion & disorder Aradobo said that the boys in the street sing something very pritty & funny [about London — O no] about Matches. Then Mrs Nannicantipot sung:

  
                 “I cry my matches as far as Guild hall;
                 God bless the duke & his aldermen all!”

Then sung Scopprell:

 
                 “I ask the Gods no more,—
                 no more, no more.”

“Then,” said Suction, “come Mr Lawgiver, your song”; and the Lawgiver sung:

                 “As I walkd forth one may morning
                 To see the fields so pleasant & so gay
                 O there did I spy a young maiden sweet [PAGE 11]
                 Among the Violets that smell so sweet
                    Smell so sweet
                    Smell so sweet
                 Among the Violets that smell so sweet.”

“Hang your Violets! Here’s your Rum & water [sweeter]. “O ay,” said Tilly Lally, “Joe Bradley & I was going along one day in the Sugar house. Joe Bradley saw—for he had but one eye— [?one] saw a treacle Jar. So he goes of his blind side & dips his hand up to the shoulder in treacle. ‘Here, [ll] lick, lick, lick!’ said he. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! For he had but one eye. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ho!’

Then sung Scopprell:

                 “And I ask the Gods no more, —
                 no more, no more,
                 no more, no more”

”Miss Gittipin,” said he, “you sing like a harpsichord. Let your bounty descend to our fair ears and favour us with a fine song.”

Then she sung:

  
                 “This frog he would a-wooing ride,
                         Kitty alone, — Kitty alone, —
                 This frog he would a-wooing ride, —
                         Kitty alone & I!
                 Sing cock I cary, Kitty alone, —
                         Kitty alone, — Kitty alone, —
                 Cock I car, Kitty alone, —
                         Kitty alone & I!”

“Charming! truly elegant!” said Scopprell.

  
                  “And I ask the gods no more!”
 

”Hang your Serious Songs!” said Sipsop, & he sung as follows:

 
                  “Fa ra so bo ro
                          Fa ra bo ra
                  Sa ba ra ra ba rare roro
                  Sa ra ra ra bo ro ro ro
                          Radara
                  Sarapodo no flo ro.”

”Hang Italian songs! Let’s have English!” said Quid. “[Sing a Mathematical Song Obtuse Angle then he sung] English Genius for ever! here I go:

  
                   “Hail Matrimony, made of Love,
                  To thy wide gates how great a drove
                          On purpose to be yok'd do come!
                  Widows & maids & Youths also,
                  That lightly trip on beauty's toe,
                          Or sit on beauty's bum.
  
                  Hail, fingerfooted lovely Creatures!
                  The females of our human Natures,
                          Formed to suckle all Mankind.
                  Tis you that come in time of need;
                  Without you we shoud never Breed,
                          Or any Comfort find.
  
                  For if a Damsel's blind or lame,
                  Or Nature's hand has crooked her frame, [PAGE 12]
                          Or if she's deaf, or is wall eyed,
                  Yet if her heart is well inclined,
                  Some tender lover she shall find
                          That panteth for a Bride.
  
                  The universal Poultice this,
                  To cure whatever is amiss
                           In damsel or in Widow gay.
                  It makes them smile, it makes them skip,
                  Like Birds just cured of the pip,
                          They chirp, & hop away.
  
                  Then come ye Maidens,come ye Swains,
                  Come & be eased of all your pains
                          In Matrimony's Golden cage.”

“[None of] Go & be hanged!” said Scopprel. “How can you have the face to make game of Matrimony?”

[“What you skipping flea how dare ye? I’ll dash you through your chair,” says the Cynic. “This Quid” (cries out Miss Gittipin), always spoils good company in this manner & its a shame.”]

Then Quid call’d upon Obtuse Angle for a Song, & he, wiping his face & looking on the corner of the ceiling, sang:

 
                  “To be or not to be
                  Of great capacity,
                          Like Sir Isaac Newton,
                  Or Locke? or Doctor South,
                  Or Sherlock upon death?
                          I’d rather be Sutton.
  
                  For he did build a house
                  For aged men & youthm
                          With walls of brick & stone.
                  He furnish’d it within
                  With whatever he could win
                          And all his own.
  
                  He drew out of the Stocks
                  His money in a box,
                          And sent his servant
                  To Green the Bricklayer
                  And to the Carpenter:
                           He was so fervent.
  
                  The chimneys were three score,
                  The windows many more,
                          And for convenience
                  He sinks & gutters made,
                  And all the way he pav’d
                          To hinder pestilence.
  
                  Was not this a good man,
                  Whose life was but a span,
                          Whose name was Sutton, — [PAGE 13]
                  As Locke or Doctor South,
                  Or Sherlock upon Death.
                          Or Sir Isaac Newton?”

The Lawgiver was very attentive & beg’d to have it sung over again & again till the company were tired & insisted on the Lawgiver singing song himself, which he readily complied with.

                  “This city & this country has brought forth many mayors,
                  To sit in state & give forth laws out of their old oak chairs,
                  With face as brown as any nut with drinking of strong ale;
                  Good English hospitality, O then it did not fail!
  
                  With scarlet gowns & broad gold lace would make a yeoman sweat,
                  With stockings roll’d above their knees & shoes as black as jet,
                  With eating beef & drinking beer, O they were stout & hale!
                  Good English hospitality, O then it did not fail!
  
                  Thus sitting at the table wide, the Mayor & Aldermen
                  Were fit to give law to the city; each eat as much as ten.
                  The hungry poor ente’rd the hall to eat good beef & ale.
                  Good English hospitality, O then it did not fail!”

Here they gave a shout, & the company broke up.