EDWIN'S PILLS, &c, SONG

In London my life is a ring of delight, In frolicks I keep up the day and the night; I snooze at the Hummums till twelve, perhaps later, I rattle the bell, and I roar up the waiter: Your honour, says he, and tips me a leg, He brings me my tea, but I swallow an egg; For tea in the morning's a slop I renounce, So I down with a glass of the right cherry bounce.

With swearing, tearing, ranting, jaunting, flashing, smashing, smacking, cracking, rumbling, tumbling; Laughing, quaffing, smoking, joking, swaggering, staggering; So thought less, so knowing, so green, and so mellow; This, this, is the life of a frolicksome fellow.

My phaet'n I mount, and the plebs they all stare, I handle my reins, and my elbows I square; My ponies so plump, and as white as a lily, Through Pall Mall I spank it, and up Piccadilly; 'Till losing a wheel, egad down come I smack; So at Knightsbridge I throw myself into a hack; At Tatterfall's fling a leg over my nag, Thus visit for dinner, then dress in a bag. With swearing, &c.

I roll round the garden, and call at the Rose, And then at both Play-houses pop in my nose; I lounge in the lobby, laugh, swear, slide and swagger, Talk loud, take my money, and out again stagger. I meet at the Shakespeare a good-natur'd soul, Then down to our club at St. James's I roll; The joys of the night are a thousand at play, And thus at the finish begin the next day. With swearing, &c.