Published Feb. 4, 1808, by LAURIE & WHITTLE, 53, Fleet Street, London.

182

JOHN GROUSE AND MOTHER GOOSE.

*Written by an Amateur; and sung with unbounded Applause by Mr. EMERY, of the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden.*

I BE come up to London, that whirligig place,
To see Mother Goose on an odd wild-goose chase;
So I quitted Tadcaster, and took to my heels,
In the new flying waggon, that flies on broad wheels.

Tol, lol, de roi.

Having spent all my cash, a queer thought came across,
Of this fat play-house goose, with her gold apple-sauce;
So I thought just for once, up to Lunnun I'd wander,
What's sauce for the goose, may be sauce for the gander.

Then I went to the playhouse, this fam'd goose to see,
And I ax'd all the folks whereabouts it would be;
But they tell'd me, as over the benches I straddled,
That I was the goose, and my brains were all addled.

Then up to the lamps like a live goose she trod,
And her head it went niddlety, niddlety, nod;
As much as to say, pray take care what you do,
For if you hiss at me, you know, I can hiss you.

Next a hopping old hag gave the gold egg a motion,
And bad 'em, to find it, go look in the ocean;
'Tis that, I suppose, more than raffles or races,
Draws all the sea-gulls to the watering-places.

Tol, lol, de roi.

Well, wonders, for certain, they never will stop,
The stage is transform'd to a poulterer's shop;
These fashions of Lunnun seem queer to a clown;
Once the town pluck'd the geese now a goose plucks the town.

I know about corn, and potatoes, and peas,
And bullocks, and such like, and turkies and geese;
But I never yet see'd, till in Lunnun I tell'e,
A goose walk about with a boy in his belly.

When to stare at a goose the whole town flock together,
It makes good the old saying, of birds of a feather.
But, hold! I must mind, and rub off as I go;
Present company's always excepted, you know.