POETICAL STRICTURES, &c, SONG

My worthy good critics attend to my lay, And hear what a juvenile bard has to say; Tho' perhaps you'll be nettl'd at what I set down, Since the song that I sing is about the Half-crown . Derry down, down, down derry down.

Some little time since you attacked me sore, For writing of prose, but I'll never write more; Then take this poetical brat, and ne'er frown, Altho' I forgot—for to send the Half-crown. Derry down, &c.

This Half-crown I speak of you surely must know, 'Tis only been standing a twelvemonth, I trow ; Yet rigid was you, by my faith, I must own, And all on account of the wonted Half-crown. Derry down, &c.

"How could such a noodle," ye cry'd, "dare to "write, "He's sure an impostor—a plagirist quite, "Then him we'll e'er blast to all fame and renown, "For see—the poor devil's forgot the Half-crown." Derry down, &c.

But now honest critics, come, let us be friends, Extol but this pamphlet, I'll make you amends; For if, by your praises, the work should go down, I swear, by the muses, I'll send you a crown. Derry down, &c.

And now, my kind readers, you plainly may see, That critics, like courtiers, expect a small fee; In short these extortions so common are grown, That all want a fee, from the prince to the clown. Derry down, &c.