| Citation |
NP.774.064
3-10 Nov 1774:42,43 (2/58)
[This item is pasted over the printed text of columns 2 and
3 in this issue at the Connecticut State Library. It was
originally printed in the Norwich Packet, and the Country
Journal, 13 Mar 1789:41,42 (16/781)]
Poetical Repository.
MR. TRUMBULL, either denominate your paper no longer an
impartial one, or publish the following for a country
customer.
Adieu, adieu, to SANS SOUCIE,
Cries all the lads with merry glee,
The girls I'm sure if they complain
of N----h boys, 'twill be in vain,
For they this winter, strange tho' true,
Have spent of shillings not a few;
The fair to please, night-errants stout,
They've turn'd their purses wrong-side out;
And to maintain, their dancing-sett,
All head and ears they've run in debt;
Some to the Cobler for their shoes,
Some to the Merchant for their cloaths,
Of jackets, stocks, and cambrick ruffles,
Silk stockings, hats, & plated buckles:
They all appear gay Coxcombs fine,
And owe the Landlord for his wine.
This night a Clown in blue-bob dress'd,
Is Manager by all confess'd;
A pretty pettifogging youth,
Who ne'er was known to speak the t---h
Yet on the pen with vigour seizes,
And write poetic J--k A--s pieces;
But pray who is this great I am?
What spells the letters S A M?
Next night with edifying chat,
A Doct--r trimm'd with fur of cat,
Gives orders out, and does proceed,
In managing to take the lead;
Taught by one Griffiths how to dance,
Cries Cuffee play Miss Moor's rants,
And with exactness keep the tune,
That I may take my rigadoon.
Proceeding in rotation still,
Z--b R-- now, descends B--n hill,
A knowing lad, of high repute,
Fam'd for the fiddle stick and flute;
And gives the clowns, a joyful call,
To meet and have, their fed'ral ball.
A druggist too, that retails crocus,
Who's noddle's full of hocus-pocus,
With hair that like a fire-brand red
Or like a gay woodpecker's head,
Belongs to this great lib'ral ball,
And always meets at ev'ry call.
And next a f--g, noisy rake,
Half College learn'd, the lead does take,
'Tis true he has an empty skull,
But what of that his purse is full;
He's rich, and that's enough for us,
O what a gilded fleshy purse.
His name I cannot, will not tell,
What means the letters D & L?
A poet fam'd for bright ideas,
Of satire sharp as sting of bees,
Who writes on females punging capers,
And drops in company his papers,
In turn calls all the lads together,
Nor minding snow, nor rainy weather;
But what's his name? pray who is he?
The Advertisement says M. B.
Come stop; you saucy, ditty hangman?
Why don't you mention J--y L--n?
A pretty, little, handsome fop,
Look see him skip, & jump, and hop;
O what a sweet delightful blade,
He's not of all the world afraid,
And always thought among a million,
T' exceed the whole in a cotillion
Every person sure must know,
This handsome trifling little beau.
A sailor too, who by good fate,
Has now become a Captain's mate;
With hair that's like an orange yellow,
And head too like a pump'on hollow,
In this grand ball room do's appear.
And soon with sugar'd rum gets clear;
Who since he's been to sea he chatters,
Of nought by sweet female M-l-tt-s,
A dirty dog, who can he be?
Suppose we say, 'tis young E.T.
There's likewise Hudibras, or But--r,
Who's now a Doc--r, once a cutler,
Belongs to this gay jov'al class,
Draws on the buck-skins o'er his a--s;
And in the assembly, swift he pitches,
With glist'ning, greasy leather breeches.
Japan'd outside and likewise in--
Side, being in contact with his skin;
You sure may judge by what you see,
How clean his black poster'ors be,
'Tis true he now, may clearly boast,
Of visiting his native coast,
For he to Africa has been,
And soon G--d willing goes again.
There's G--n, C--s, & T--m & Jo.
(And many such like lads you know,
Just fit to grace a puppet show.)
A--s, Pitt, and P--g roo,
(They'll all drink brandy, 'till they're blue;
And G---y (like a hay pole tall)
Attends this grand three shilling ball.
Now then for L--d--g lads that come
To help them drink their wine & rum,
There's first a S--r--ft, with his writs,
His horse trim'd off with silver bitts,
(A learned youth) foaming along,
Rides up and joins this fed'ral throng.
A marchant's clerk who want so deaf,
But that he must have heard the thief,
Yet he now doubt did shake and tremble,
As if he'd heard and earthquake rumble
Who knows? perhaps he had a fit,
And possibly the bed did wet.
This handsome, sprightly, bawling youth,
Comes up, and opes his gastly mouth,
Then down the wine he pours with speed,
Good G--d! perhaps 'twas Mr. B--d.
There's one more chuckle headed blade,
He's now a soap-boiler by trade,
His conscience sure has no remorse,
Because he never st--e the h--se,
He by the justice was accus'd,
And by him too he was abus'd,
But in the court, it plain appear'd
He was not guilty so was clear'd.
The 'squire, at once did him discharge,
So P--o was once more at large;
This likely, chubbed, active man,
Drives up and joins the fed'ral plan.
There's many other L--g bucks,
With heads just fit for barber's blacks,
Mount their old pacing mares, & prance
To this expensive merry dance.
Enough, enough you all will cry,
Pray throw your pen and paper by;
Th' advice is good, and well apply'd,
At least I get a curry'd hide;
I now will bid, like all of you
The Sans Soucie a long adieu.
Lisbon, 10th March, 1789.
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