Classic Poem

I.

What a noise in pit, boxes, and gall'ries, and all,
Have you lately heard made, about one Tiddi-dol .
Tiddi-dol , honest creature! took none of these airs,
'Till the wars of King Pantomime chang'd his affairs,
From a baker of gingerbread , (God bless the trade!)
Now the mark of the muse , by our malice's aid.
For the great and the small
Cry — all ,
Tiddi-doll — Tiddi-doll ,
'Tis Tiddi-dol, Tiddi-doll, all .

II.

All the joke of it rose, from his plume , and fine coat ,
Which but odly agreed with his shop , and his note .
Tho' he sold me my gingerbread , yet, I confess,
No proportion was hit, 'twixt his name , and his dress .
But, if Actors must all, by proportion , be try'd,
Then, alas, for poor Pistol , and Drury beside!
Where they sell none at all ,
Yet bawl ,
Tiddi-doll — Tiddi-doll ,
Mere, sham, wooden, Tiddi-dolls all .

III.

When their rope-dancers swung, and their tumblers went round,
To convince you where wit , and wise management's found;
When, to quicken a compliment , sagely bestow'd,
They assur'd their kind boxes, 'twas Taste Alamode .
When a whole club of beauties, cry'd out for good sense ,
Yet coud'nt drive gingerbread management thence.
Sure — all
Was then Tiddi-doll ,
Aye, Tiddi-doll, Tiddi-doll all .

IV.

So, 'till chance some expression, more suitable , sends,
To describe brother Pistol , and all his good friends.
Wou'd you speak of men's heads, that run out of their way,
'Till their own parts the silliest of all, they can play;
Wou'd you name folks , that manage a stage , with such skill ,
That, alike, wit and nonsense , brings grist to their mill ,
Then, at Drury, go call ,
And behold Tiddi-doll ,
'Tis — all ,
Tiddi-doll, Tiddi-doll ,
'Tis Tiddi-doll, Tiddi-doll, all .