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Oh! pardon us dear Father,
becauſe I tell you true
If thou be the Cobler, ſaid the old man,
that had the blinking eye.
You've cobled me out of fifty pounds,
a pox on your policy.
The Uncle has perſuaded him,
and ſo did all the gueſts;
The old man fell a laughing,
and cry'd, I do confeſs.
That I cannot be angry.
and ſtraight theſe words did ſay,
Come, do, call in the fidlers,
and let's be merry to-day.
Thus we ſee the old and rich,
are bit by policy:
For beauty, wit, and manners,
beyond all riches be.
Then drink a health to the Cobler,
another to honeſt Sue,
See every one take off his glaſs,
ſo I bid you all adieu.
CANN OF GROG
WHEN up the ſhrouds the ſailor goes,
and ventures on the yard,
The landman he who better knows,
believes his lot is hard;
Bold Jack with ſmiles each danger meets,
