Air
A flaxen-headed cow-boy, as simple as may be,
And next a merry plough-boy, I whistled o’er the lea;
But now a saucy footman, I strut in worsted lace,
And soon I'll be a butler, and wag my jolly face;
When steward I'm promoted, I'll snip a tradesman’s bill,
My master’s coffers empty, my pockets for to fill;
When lolling in my chariot, so great a man I’ll be,
You’ll forget the little plough-boy that whistled o’er the lea.
I’ll buy votes at elections but, when I’ve made the pelf,
I’ll stand poll for the Parliament, and then vote in myself;
Whatever’s good for me, sir, I never will oppose:
When all my Ayes are sold off, why, then I’ll sell my Noes.
I’ll bawl, harangue and paragraph, with speeches charm the ear
And when I’m tired on my legs, then I’ll sit down a peer.
In court or city honour, so great a man I’ll be,
You'll forget the little plough-boy that whistled o’er the lea.
John O’Keeffe (1747-1833) – “Air” from The New Oxford Book of Eighteenth-Century Verse
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