Upon the Presentation of Grandsire Bob to the Colledge-Youths, by the Author of That PEAL
Gentlemen of the Noble Crew
Of Colledge-Youths, there lately blew
A wind, which to my Noddle flew
(upon a day when as it Snew;)
Which to my Brains the Vapors drew
And there began to work and brew,
’Till in my Pericranium grew
Conundrums, how some Peal that’s New
Might be compos’d? and to pursue
These thoughts (which did so whet and hew
My flat Invention) and to shew
What might be done, I strait withdrew
Myself to ponder—whence did accrue
This Grandsire Bob, which unto you
I Dedicate, as being due
Most properly; for there’s but few
Besides, so ready at their Q——
(Especially at the first View)
To apprehend a thing that’s New;
Though they’l pretend, and make a shew,
As if the intricat’st they knew;
What Bob doth mean, and Grandsire True,
And read the course without a Clue
Of this new Peal: Yet though they screw
Their shallow Brains, they’l ne’re unglue
The Method on’t (and I’m a Jew)
If I don’t think this to be true,
They see no more on’t than blind Hugh.
Well, let their tongues run Titere tu,
Drink muddy Ale, or else French Lieve,
Whil’st we our Sport and Art renew,
And drink good Sack till Sky looks blew,
So Grandsire bids you All adieu.
R.R.
THE ART OF RINGING.