In London Inever knew what to be at,
Enraptur'd with this! and enchanted with that!
I'm wild with the sweets of Variety's plan,
And life seems a blessing too happy for man.
Derry down, &c.
But the Country, Lord help us, sets all matters right;
So calm and composing from morning till night;
O, it settles the spirits when nothing is seen
But an ass on a common, or goose on a green.
Derry down, &c.
In Town if it rains, why it damps not our hope,
The eye has its range, and the fancy her scope;
Still the same tho' it pour all night and all day,
It spoils not our prospects, it stops not our way.
Derry down, &c.
In the Country how bless'd when it rains in the fields,
To feast upon transports that shuttlecock yields,
Or go crawling from window to window to see
A hog on a dunghill, or crow on a tree.
Derry down, &c.
In London how easy we visit and meet,
Gay pleasure the theme, and sweet smiles are our treat;
Our morning's a round of good humour, delight,
And we rattle in comfort and pleasure all night.
Derry down, &c.
In the Country how charming our visits to make,
Thro' ten miles of mud for formality's sake;
With the coachman in drink, and the moon in a fog,
And no thought in our head but a ditch and a bog.
Derry down, &c.
In London if folks ill together are put,
A bore may be dropt, or a quiz may be cut;
We change without end, and if happy or ill,
Our wants are at hand, and our wishes at will.
Derry down, &c.
In the Country you're nail'd, like a pale in your park,
To some stick of a neighbour, cram'd into the ark;
Or if your are sick, or in fits tumble down,
You reach death ere the doctor can reach you from Town.
Derry down, &c.
I have heard how that love in a cottage is sweet,
When two hearts in one link of soft sympathy meet;
I know nothing of that, for alas! I'm a swain
Who requires, I own it, more links to my chain.
Derry down, &c.
Your jays and your magpies may chatter on trees,
And whisper soft nonsense in groves if they please;
But a house is much more to my mind than a tree,
And for groves, O! a fine grove of chimnies for me.
Derry down, &c.
Then in Town let me live, and in Town let me die;
For in truth I can't relish the Country, not I.
If one must have a villa in summer to dwell,
O give me the sweet shady side of Pall-Mall.
Derry down, &c.
Enraptur'd with this! and enchanted with that!
I'm wild with the sweets of Variety's plan,
And life seems a blessing too happy for man.
Derry down, &c.
But the Country, Lord help us, sets all matters right;
So calm and composing from morning till night;
O, it settles the spirits when nothing is seen
But an ass on a common, or goose on a green.
Derry down, &c.
In Town if it rains, why it damps not our hope,
The eye has its range, and the fancy her scope;
Still the same tho' it pour all night and all day,
It spoils not our prospects, it stops not our way.
Derry down, &c.
In the Country how bless'd when it rains in the fields,
To feast upon transports that shuttlecock yields,
Or go crawling from window to window to see
A hog on a dunghill, or crow on a tree.
Derry down, &c.
In London how easy we visit and meet,
Gay pleasure the theme, and sweet smiles are our treat;
Our morning's a round of good humour, delight,
And we rattle in comfort and pleasure all night.
Derry down, &c.
In the Country how charming our visits to make,
Thro' ten miles of mud for formality's sake;
With the coachman in drink, and the moon in a fog,
And no thought in our head but a ditch and a bog.
Derry down, &c.
In London if folks ill together are put,
A bore may be dropt, or a quiz may be cut;
We change without end, and if happy or ill,
Our wants are at hand, and our wishes at will.
Derry down, &c.
In the Country you're nail'd, like a pale in your park,
To some stick of a neighbour, cram'd into the ark;
Or if your are sick, or in fits tumble down,
You reach death ere the doctor can reach you from Town.
Derry down, &c.
I have heard how that love in a cottage is sweet,
When two hearts in one link of soft sympathy meet;
I know nothing of that, for alas! I'm a swain
Who requires, I own it, more links to my chain.
Derry down, &c.
Your jays and your magpies may chatter on trees,
And whisper soft nonsense in groves if they please;
But a house is much more to my mind than a tree,
And for groves, O! a fine grove of chimnies for me.
Derry down, &c.
Then in Town let me live, and in Town let me die;
For in truth I can't relish the Country, not I.
If one must have a villa in summer to dwell,
O give me the sweet shady side of Pall-Mall.
Derry down, &c.