THE COLLIER MADE GENTLEMAN
OR, I'VE HAD LEFT A FORTIN

AIR:- "The new Morris Dance," by BROWN, KING, & GIBSON

  I used to be a vulgar clown,
  Both cash and manners short in,
  'Till my old uncle died in town
  And left me all his fortin.
  A collier I was by trade,
  But am changed as you may tell, sirs;
  And sin so rich ith' puss I'm made,
  I'll be a reg'lar swell, sir,
          But I'm so plagued with vulgar folk,
          Though we've got cash to sport in,
          I cannot cut the tip-top swell,
          Since I've been left a fortin.
  
  I used to go with low bred chaps,
  And talk with every aw-gaw -
  Get drunk in Tom and Jerry shops,
  And went o purrin th' foot baw;
  But now with all the swells in town,
  I sports my bobs and tanners,
  And I'm going up to Lunnun soon
  O learnin genteel manners.
          But I'm so plagued, &c. 
  
  And when I've been to Lunnun town,
  I mean to go to France, sirs,
  And practice two or three time a week
  At larnin hop'ra dancin.
  And then I've got a quizzing glass,
  To see things near and far O!
  But the ohter day it caused me to fall
  Reet over a wheelbarrow.
          For I'm so plagued, &c. 
  
  My family are a vulgar set,
  If they get clothes in fashion,
  They puts em on the wrong side out,
  Which puts me in a passion.
  The lads whene'er they go to church,
  For all we've lots of riches,
  They all on em goes in their clogs,
  Smock frock and leather breeches.
          For I'm so plagued, &c. 
  
  My wife she is worst of all,
  When we gives genteel dinners,
  She uses neither knife or fork,
  But pops in all her fingers.
  And when they hands the wine about,
  She tell the gents it stinks, sirs,
  Gets full her mouth and squirts it out,
  And calls for treacle drink sirs.
          For I'm so plagued, &c. 
  
  If I give a dinner to my lord,
  And bid her make a good un,
  Perhaps she'll make some pease soup,
  Or else a great black pudding.
  And when the tea it is brought in,
  The tray always she'll fling, sirs,
  Stir up the sugar with her fist,
  And then she licks her fingers.
          For I'm so plagued, &c. 
  
  My lord once asked us out to dine,
  And then we had a rum start,
  Instead of our new carriage fine,
  She would go in the dung-cart;
  And then he sent his horse to her,
  And wanted her to ride, sirs,
  And what d'ye think oth' ignorant jade,
  She would get on astride, sirs.
          For I'm so plagued, &c.

Note:
The quizzing glass was a sort of monocle held to one's eye with a handle, in a similar fashion to a lorgnette.