Classic Poem

Forgive me, Sir, if I presume,
Although I should not vote for H — e,
In spight of such a misbehaviour,
To beg once more a little favour;
Once more in equipage to shine,
And with my friend Sir William dine.
O could I see again the days,
When I could loll in pompous chaise,
With lilliputian Tom postillion,
And without blush , that face vermillion ,
Could say equip me for the Oaks ,
To sing my songs and cut my jokes:
But now we're turn'd Electioneers,
We're altogether by the ears,
I dare not say my soul's my own,
Start at the name of War — n.
I've often eat his lamb and sallad,
For the small reck'ning of a ballad ;
Been carry'd to his great carouses,
To tap-houses and Wellen's houses,
To Cocoa-tree, to Pickadilly,
To treats on bargains for a filly;
But now deserted am become
To dine or rather starve at home;
But why this wrath and mighty pother?
The truth I will no longer smother;
The vote , my friend, the vote 's the thing,
The vote 's the crime, the vote 's the sting.
I heard, when young, my Grannam say,
(And her court cards she well could play)
My boy, ne'er swim against the tide,
But always take the strongest side;
And at the time when men are sent
To sit in Bri — n's p — t,
Go to the richest can — te,
On him that has most interest wait;
Be at his feasts and meetings seen,
And slighted, if when chose , you've been;
Yet if he comes in pow'r and place,
Forget and pocket the disgrace;
Always say something that is pleasing,
And gain your point by dint of teasing .
Great men have licence to be rude,
Bui if, we'd serve you if we could ,
Are their fine words and sugar speeches,
Go cringe again and kiss their b — s ;
Dangle and spend from crown to crown ,
As long as you have scarf or gown .
If you pretend to shew a spirit,
And talk of doctor , function , merit:
'Tis all a bam, there's nothing in it,
You can't wear gold unless you win it;
You will be never worth a groat,
If you're too wanton with your v — e,
If you remark not who is who ,
Can best his country serve and you ;
Thus my good Grannam slily spoke,
And I have prov'd it was no joke;
But like Sir Francis in the play,
I'm often ay , instead of nay:
Should cry no M — y , though he's clever ,
No Hammond, boys, but H. for ever.
Then I might go to Y — l hall ,
On the best horse in B — 's stall;
Should dine at Mod — n 's spacious seat,
Again most elegantly eat,
To the great joy of half starv'd mice,
Friend Squ — rs would give me something nice;
Ev'n Arch Gr — t who loves the pelf ,
For master H — e would treat himself .
O, tell me what you'd have me do,
How play my game, what side pursue,
Shall I come over, Sirs, to you?
What is't to me who's in or out ,
The greatest men have tack'd about;
And story goes that vicar Bray ,
Like weather-cock turn'd every way.
But I'll be stedfast to my friends,
Nor have regard to selfish ends;
And know that I shall think like you,
If to my word and honour true.