EDWIN'S PILLS, &c, SONG

The morning we're married, how funny and jolly! The Bridegroom, my honour; the Bride, LadyDolly! When rous'd by sweet clamour, we open our peepers, And Phoebus salute in our night-gowns and slippers; Then under our windows musicians all come, Play fiddle, sweet hautboy, sharp flagelet, drum. But to my Dolly's amorous sing-song, All is puff, rattle, squeak and ding-dong.

The cymbals they grind, and the basses they grumble, Pianos and fortes, a delicate jumble. All joy to your honours! See, see how they slock, Whilst cleaver and marrowbone go nick-y-knock; Tantivy the horn, tantara the trumpet, Sound, found—while we swallow our coffee and crumpet. But to my Dolly's amorous, &c.