| Citation |
RNYG.774.012
17 Feb 1774:22,23 (44)
To the Printer.
Hickup--Ho, Ho, Ho,--Halloo--Halloo--
Tantivy, Tantivy, Tantivy; I being already
inspired by Bacchus; lubricating, and relubricating
Over my Mad-madicrial-lucubrations for the interest of my
cousin Beelzebub, at midnight nearly; as it was as-tronomi-
cally calculated from Saturday the 12th of February 1774,
over my diahexapla, or my six bottles of Madeira.
Mr. Printer, Tit for Tat (flap-dash, ranthram swash)
I am the true bon ton or the greasy bucbu powdered,
hickuping
Hottentot Priest, *alias the common ballad-
maker,; alias the blind ballad-singer; alias the
Hottentot Touquoa, or Fortune-Teller, and
Conjurer, alias Pop-Li-Cola, senior; alias Timothy
Tickly Bottle;. . .
. . . [sections such as the above are interspersed with
short poems for about a column]
A Tra-Tra-Tra, Travesty, and ultimo, ultimo
And Gra-Gra-Grammatical, and apropo, apropo.
'Tis something more than nothing, as they say,
That makes the muleish Hottentot to bray.
. . . [13 lines]
He whiffs--and scopes, for conversation sake,
But Britain's sons will wiser methods take.
O Conscience, conscience, conscience! I am for certain a bad
preacher, and a much worse teacher, and never said an
earnest prayer in my whole life; and am now under very deep
and very great concern for my numerous family; as my hurtful
precepts and black-guard examples, in writing, are by no
manner of means, recommendatory to my age and station--For--
Ad deum te commendo.
It is an easier talk, I find to give
Instructive rules, than by the same to live,
For I, who oft doth teach to others, art
Myself a stranger to the practice part.
"Spare my blushes, hide my shame;
Buy my ADZ--excuse my name."
An Hottentot deeply intrenched.
O! that rhyming, propheting, independent, Not
Cromwell Skinner; he has detected all my impo-
sitions, falsities, nonsense, and bad spelling, to my
shame.--And likewise all my bad poetry--He says and very
justly, that it is neither rhyme, reason, nor proper
diction. . . [38 lines]
Now for a great swell; all wind and bluster and no
brains.--Old Prophet come cross my hand first with a bit
of silver; then lend me your hand; and let me hickup and
stare you full in the face and . . . . . . . . . .stars.
There's Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars,
Then roll the earth among the S. . . ..,
And round the earth the moon;
There's Venus and Mercury next,
The Sun is in the center fix'd,
Which makes a glorious noon.
Abboo--Abboo
Here rides your Braiman Priest.
I'm on a broom my dears,
A flimsy ariel being that no one fears,
Your fortunes are good for many long years,
But mine is accurs'd, which makes me shed tears.
Yax, yux, yux; O! O! O! blubber, blubber, &c.
. . . [7 lines]
However, if possible, I'll chear up my spirits once more
and shake and strain off my puddled muddy-brains--Draw
t'other cork, from a gor-bellyed Bellarmin; wine whets and
polishes the witling; I will just finish another Bellarmin,
and then give a specimen of my flimsy wit, in ballad-making
and then I'll swear that I found it in my friend Plump's
Krael; Hark! to me, the as-matographer--I'll sing a
stanza of two verses only--The remainder of my intended
di-a-gram song continued; I'll sing it to you after sermon
as
usual.
III.
A Pigeon who'd think it, alas! a fine trinket,
Went home for a mitered cap,
And tho' it was pretty, affected, and witty;
Yet in obis, it has fail'd for all that.
Chorus. Sing pretty bird sing--Why what shall I sing?
Unless I'm a B----p, a C---k for the K--g.
Tolde-roddle, toroddle, toroll
Tolde-roddle, toroddle, toroll.
. . . [Verse IV with the same chorus]
An Hottentot Priest
Dated from my Kraal, hear the Cape of Forlorn-Hope.
N.B. Now drink and swill, and laugh your fill,
At Madeira Hill, and try your skill;
First pick this bone, and knaw my file,
Then take a nap, and mend your style.
Epitaph.
Here lyeth Timothy Ticke Bottle, dark as the Egyptian mummy.
Whose death was by a Madeira dose, which made him tipsy
funny.
_____Stop traveller, __No tears;__But beg you'll bequeath.
____A little salt-water, upon a dead Priest.
Troddle, troddle, straddle, straddle.
. . . [16 lines following are the notes explaining the
events and persons in the above]
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