(4)
A strait soon came, my friend I try'd
he laugh’d, and spurn’d my moan;
I hy’d me home, and tun’d my pipe
to John o’ Badenyon.
Methought I should be wiser next,
and would a Pa riot turn;
Began to doat on Johnny Wilkes,
and cry’d up Parson Horn;
Their noble spirit I admir’d,
and prais'd their manly zeal,
Who had with flaming tongue and pen
maintain’d the public weal.
But ere a month or two was past,
I found myself betray'd,
’Twas self and party after all,
for all the stir they made:
At last I saw the factious knaves
insult the very throne;
I curs’d them all, and tun’d my pipe
to John o’ Badenyon.
What next to do I mus’d a while,
still hoping to succeed:
I pitch’d on books for company,
and gravely try’d to read:
