John o' Badenyon

When first I came to be a man, of twenty years, or so,

I thought myself a handsome youth, and fain the world would know;

In best attire I stept abroad, with spirits brisk and gay;

And here, and there, and every where, was like a morn in May.

So care I had, no fear of want, but rambled up and down;

And for a beau I might have pass'd in country or in town:

I still was pleased where'er I went; and, when I was alone,

I tuned my pipe, and pleased myself wi' John o' Badenyon.

Now in the days of youthful prime, a mistress I must find;

For love, they say, gives one an air, and ev'n improves the mind

On Phillis fair, above the rest, kind fortune fix'd mine eyes;

Her piercing beauty struck my heart and she became my choice.

To Cupid, now, with hearty prayer, I offer'd many a vow,

And danced and sung, and sigh'd and swore, as other lovers do,

But when at last I breathed my flame, I found her cold as stone—

I left the girl, and tuned my pipe to John o' Badenyon.

When love had thus my heart beguiled with foolish hopes and vain,

To friendship's port I steer'd my course, and laugh'd at lovers' pain:

A friend I got by lucky chance—'twas something like divine;

An honest friend's a precious gift, and such a gift was mine.

And now, whatever may betide, a happy man was I,

In any strait I knew to whom I freely might apply.

A strait soon came; my friend I tried—he laugh'd, and spurn'd my moan;

I hied me home, and tuned my pipe to John o' Badenyon.

I thought I should be wiser next, and would a patriot turn,

Began to doat on Johnie Wilkes, and cry'd up parson Horne;

Their noble spirit I admir'd, and praised their noble zeal,

Who had, with flaming tongue and pen, maintain'd the public weal.

But, e'er a month or two had pass'd, I found myself betray'd;

'Twas Self and Party, after all, for all the stir they made.

At last I saw these factious knaves insult the very throne;

I cursed them all, and tuned my pipe to John o' Badenyon.

What next to do I mused a while, still hoping to succeed;

I pitch'd on books for company, and gravely tried to read:

I bought and borrowed every where, and studied night and day,

Nor miss'd what dean or doctor wrote, that happen'd in my way.

Philosophy I now esteem'd the ornament of youth,

And carefully, through many a page, I hunted after truth:

A thousand various schemes I tried, and yot was pleased with none;

I throw them by, and tuned my pipe to John o' Badenyon.

And now, ye youngsters everywhere, who wish to make a show,

Take heed in time, nor vainly hope for happiness below;

What you may fancy pleasure here is but an empty name;

And girls, and friends, and books also, you'll find them all the same.

Then be advised, and warning take from such a man as me;

I'm neither pope nor cardinal, nor one of high degree;

You'll meet displeasure every where; then do as I have done—

E'en tune your pipe, and please yourself with John of Badenyon.