The Crying and Laughing Song

When the hated morning's light, Peeping in, offends my sight, Tossing to and fro in bed. Aching heart, and aching head; Counting o'er my various ills, Fickle lovers, mercers bills; All the sums I've lost at dice, When these in my mind arise, I cry, —

But if 'tis Pantheon night, Or that Ranelagh invite, Chicheratas here, Macheratas there, Or to Vauxhall I repair; If I meet my Lord Perfume, Or dear Col'nel Thunder Bomb; When such pleasures are my lot, Fickle lovers all forgot, Dice and mercers bills forgot— I laugh, —

Then, if in the Morning Post, I read reputations lost, Sly intrigues, and cuckold spouses, Great debates in both the houses; When I'm told that dissipation, Folly, lux'ry, rule the nation; That the rich, the young and wise, To true pleasure shut their eyes; I cry, —

But, if e'er my tears are gone, Simp'ring enters honest John, 'Ma'am, Sir Jehu's at the door, 'In his phaeton and four:" Instant all my sorrows cease, Out I run, and take my place; With such joys the moments glide By my dear Sir Jehu's side; I laugh, —