THE BEAU MONDE, OR THE Pleasures of St. JAMES'S. A BALLAD. Henry Carey Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. N15293 K009637.000 Carey, Henry, 1687?-1743. Blundrella: or, the impertinent. A tale. To which is added The beau monde, or, the pleasures of St. James's. A new ballad. ... The second edition. London printed for A. Dodd and sold by the booksellers of London and Westminster 1730 pp. 9-12. 12p.; 2⁰.

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THE BEAU MONDE , OR THE Pleasures of St. JAMES'S . A BALLAD . To the Tune of , Oh ! LONDON is a fine-Town , &c. OH ! St. James's is a lovely Place , 'Tis better than the City ; For there are Balls and Operas , And ev'ry Thing that's pretty . There's little Lady CUZZONI , And bouncing Dame FAUSTINA , The Duce a Bit will either Sing Unless they're each a QUEEN — a , And when we've ek'd out History , And made them Rival Queens , They'll warble sweetly on the Stage , And scold behind the Scenes : Oh ! St. James's , &c . When having fill'd their Pockets full , No longer can they stay ; But turn their Backs upon the Town , And scamper all away . The Belles and Beaux cry after them , With all their might and main ; And HEIDEGGER is sent in haste To fetch 'em back again . Oh ! St. James's , &c . Then Hey ! for a Subscription To th' Opera , or the Ball ; The Silver Ticket walks about Untill there comes a Call . This puts them into doleful Dumps , Who were both blith and Gay ; There's nothing spoils Diversion more Than telling what's to pay . Oh ! St. James's , &c. There's POPE has made the witlings mad , Who labour all they can ; To pull his Reputation down , And maul the Little Man . But Wit and he so close are link'd , In vain is all this Pother ; They never can demolish one Without destroying 'tother . Oh ! St. James's , &c . And there's Miss POLLY PEACHUM lugs Our Nobles by the Ears , 'Till PONDER WELL by far Exceeds The Musick of the Spheres . When lo ! to show the Wisdom Great Of LONDON's famous Town , We set her up above her self , And then we take her down . Oh ! St. James's , &c . And , there's your Beaux , with powder'd Cloaths , Bedaub'd from Head to Shin ; Their Pocket-holes adorn'd with Gold , But not a souse within : And there's your pretty Gentlemen , All dress'd in Silk and Sattin ; That get a Spice of ev'ry Thing , Excepting Sense and Latin . Oh ! St. James's , &c . And there's your Cits that have their Tits , In Finsbury so sweet . But costlier Tits they keep , God wot ! In Bond and Poultney-Street . And there's your green Nobility , On Citizens so witty , Whose Fortune and Gentility , Arose from LONDON's City . Oh ! St. James's , &c . We go to Bed when others rise , And Dine at Candle-light ; There's nothing mends Complexion more , Than turning Day to Night . For what is Title , Wealth , or Wit , If Folks are not Genteel ? Or how can they be said to live , Who know not what's QUADRILLE . Oh ! St. James's , &c . FINIS .