English poem
The American Songster, Song
by Anonymous
In all mankind's promiscuous race, The sons of error urge their chace, The wond'rous to pursue: And, both in country and in town, The curious courtier, cit, and clown, Solicit something new.
The poets still from nature take, And what is ready made they make; Historians must be true; How therefore shall we find a road, Thro' dissertation, song, or ode, To give you something new?
They say virginity is scarce As any thing in prose or verse, And so is honour too: The papers of the day imply, No more than that we live and die, And pay for something new.
We see alike, the woeful dearth. In melancholy, or in mirth; What then shall ladies do? Seek virtue as th' immortal prize: In fine, be honest, and be wise, For that is something new.