"Lo the Bat with Leathern wing
            Winking & blinking
            Winking & blinking
            Winking & blinking
            Like Doctor Johnson."

            Quid:

            " 'O ho' Said Doctor Johnson
            To Scipio Africanus
            'If you don't own me a Philosopher
            I'll kick your Roman Anus'"

            Suction:

            " 'A ha' To Doctor Johnson
            Said Scipio Africanus.
            'Lift up my Roman Petticoat
            And kiss my Roman Anus.'


            Grand Chorus:

            "And the Cellar goes down with a Step."
            "And the Cellar goes down with a Step."


            Scopprell:

"Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho Hooooo my poooooor siiides! I I should die if I was to live here. Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho."

            1st Voice:      Want Matches
            2nd Voice:      Yes Yes Yes
            1st Voice:       Want Matches
           2nd Voice:       No----------

            1st Voice:      Want Matches
            2nd Voice:      Yes Yes Yes
            1st Voice:       Want Matches
           2nd Voice:       No----------

            Here was Great confusion & disorder. Aradobo said that the boys in the street sing something very pritty & funny.
            "About London?"
            "O no, about Matches."

            Then Mrs Nannicantipot sung:

            I cry my matches as far as Guild hall
            God bless the duke & his aldermen all.

            Then sung Scopprell:

            I ask the Gods no more
            no more no more


            Then Said Suction, "Come Mr Lawgiver: your song" and the Lawgiver sung

            As I walkd forth one may morning
            To see the fields so pleasant & so gay
            O there did I spy a young maiden sweet
            Among the Violets that smell so sweet
            Smell so sweet
            Smell so sweet
            Among the Violets that smell so sweet...


            "Hang your Violets heres your Rum & water - sweeter! O ay" said Tilly Lally.
            "Joe Bradley & I was going along one day in the Sugar house. Joe Bradley saw - for he had but one eye - saw a treacle Jar. So he goes of his blind side, & dips his hand up to the shoulder in treacle. 'Here I'll lick lick lick' said he. "Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha,     For he had but one eye".
            "Ha Ha Ha Ho" then sung Scopprell:

            And I ask the Gods no more
            no more no more
            no more no more

            Miss Gittipin said "You sing like a harpsichord. Let your bounty descend to our fair ears and favour us with a fine song."
            Then she sung:

            This frog he would a wooing ride
            Kitty alone, Kitty alone
            This frog he would a wooing ride
            Kitty alone & I.

            Sing cock I carry Kitty alone
            Kitty alone, Kitty alone
            Cock I cary Kitty alone
            Kitty alone & I.


            "Charming, truly elegant." said Scopprell.

            "And I ask the gods no more"

            "Hang your Serious Songs," said Sipsop & he sung as follows:

            Fa ra so bo ro
            Fa ra bo ra
            Sa ba ra ra ba rare roro
            Sa ra ra ra bo ro ro ro
            Radara
            Sarapodo no flo ro

            "Hang Italian songs, lets have English" said Quid.     "Sing a Mathematical Song, Obtuse Angle"
            Then he sung:

            English Genius for ever here I go
            Hail Matrimony made of Love
            To thy wide gates how great a drove
            On purpose to be yok'd do come
            Widows & maids & Youths also
            That lightly trip on beauty's toe
            Or sit on beauty's bum

            Hail fingerfooted lovely Creatures
            The females of our human Natures
            Formed to suckle all Mankind
            Tis you that come in time of need
            Without you we shoud never Breed
            Or any Comfort find

            For if a Damsel's blind or lame
            Or Nature's hand has crooked her frame
            Or if she's deaf or is wall eyed
            Yet if her heart is well inclined
            Some tender lover she shall find
            That panteth for a Bride

            The universal Poultice this:
            To cure whatever is amiss
            In damsel or in Widow gay,
            It makes them smile it makes them skip
            Like Birds just cured of the pip
            They chirp & hop away
            Then come ye Maidens come ye Swains
            Come & be eased of all your pains
            In Matrimony's Golden cage--

            "I'll none of this. Go & be hanged" said Scopprel. "How can you have the face to make game of Matrimony?"

            "What, you skipping flea, how dare ye? I'll dash you through your chair" says the Cynic

            "This Quid", cries out Miss Gittipin, "always spoils good company in this manner & its a shame."

            Then Quid calld upon Obtuse Angle for a Song & he wiping his face &, looking on the corner of the ceiling, sang:

            To be or not to be
            Of great capacity
            Like Sir Isaac Newton
            Or Locke or Doctor South
            Or Sherlock upon death

            I'd rather be Sutton
            For he did build a house
            For aged men & youth
            With walls of brick & stone

            He furnishd it within
            With whatever he could win
            And all his own
            He drew out of the Stocks
            His money in a box

            And sent his servant
            To Green the Bricklayer
            And to the Carpenter
            He was so fervent

            The chimneys were three score
            The windows many more
            And for convenience
            He sinks & gutters made
            And all the way he pav'd
            To hinder pestilence

            Was not this a good man
            Whose life was but a span
            Whose name was Sutton
            As Locke or Doctor South
            Or Sherlock upon Death
            Or Sir Isaac Newton

            The Lawgiver was very attentive & begged to have it sung over again & again till the company were tired & insisted on the Lawgiver singing song himself, which he readily complied with:

This city & this country has brought forth many mayors
To sit in state & give forth laws out of their old oak chairs
With face as brown as any nut with drinking of strong ale
Good English hospitality O then it did not fail

With scarlet gowns & broad gold lace would make a yeoman sweat
With stockings rolled above their knees & shoes as black as jet
With eating beef & drinking beer O they were stout & hale
Good English hospitality O then it did not fail

Thus sitting at the table wide the Mayor & Aldermen
Were fit to give law to the city each eat as much as ten
The hungry poor enterd the hall to eat good beef & ale
Good English hospitality O then it did not fail

            Here they gave a shout & the company broke up.