Part 2 — SONG FROM THE COMEDY OF “SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.”

Let schoolmasters puzzle their brain, With grammar, and nonsense, and learning— Good liquor, I stoutly maintain, Gives genus a better discerning. Let them brag of their heathenish gods— Their Lethes, and Styxes, and Stygians; Their Quis, and their Quæs, and their Quods: They ’re all but a parcel of Pigeons. To-roddle, to-roddle, to-rol. When methodist preachers come down, A-preaching that drinking is sinful, I’ll wager the rascals a crown, They always preach best with a skinful. But when you come down with your pence, For a slice of their scurvy religion, I’ll leave it to all men of sense— But you, my good friend, are the Pigeon. To-roddle, &c.

Then, come, put the jorum about, And let us be merry and clever; Our hearts and our liquors are stout— Here’s the “Three Jolly Pigeons” for ever! Let some cry up woodcock or hare, Your bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons; But of all the gay birds in the air— Here’s a health to the “Three Jolly Pigeons.” To-roddle, &c.