  As sung by Mr Noble, at the Theatre Royal, in 1803. FIRST CALL. LOST! on Saturday Evening last, between Love Lane and the Long Stairs; a Tarrier Dog, entirely White, with two Brown Ears and a Black Spot upon his Tail, and answers to the Name of Shak’em; the Dog was last seen at the Entrance of the Close: and has got an ugly Trick of shaking his Right Ear and Tail as he walks;—is considered to be rather deaf, as he does not always answer to the first call——Whosoever With Orators sir, e’en senate to grace, What town’s better stock’d, pray, than this canny place, Ah! would you, the flow’r of those Orators see? Ecce Homo’s the word,—you behold him in Me! O when ding dong, ding dong, my Bell goes, Shoe-makers with joy catch the sound; And truly like so many Larks they are found: Each swiftly descends from his garret on high; When sonorous I publish all round. SECOND CALL. STOLEN or Strayed, from a field in Pandon Dean, three beautiful smoke colour’d Sheep, marked T.G. justly esteemed the most picturesque Ornaments of that celebrated Vale.——The Admirers of rural Scenery hereby offer a handsome Reward to whoever will bring them back to the Dean, if strayed, or give such information as may convict the Mutton-loving Rogues, who have stolen them. The Town Marshal proclaims peace, incomp’rably well, Few, at calling a Fair, the Sheriff’s Serjeant excell; But in Pathos, the Critics, mem. con. do agree, The Marshal and Serjeant must both yield to Me; O when ding dong, ding dong, my Bell goes, Barbers prick up their ears at the sound; And heedless how half-shaven customers swear, Come eagerly running my budget to hear, When sonorous I publish all round. THIRD CALL. FOUND, last Winter, near the Turk’s Head Inn, which has not since been claimed, a Lady’s Hat and Wig, supposed to have been blown off the Head of the fair Owner whilst in a state of Indescribability.——Any Lady who can prove them to be her Property, may have them again, free of all Expence; but if not claimed and identified before the first of April next, they will be sold, and the Money given as a Donation to the Fever Hospital. The Watchmen, ’tis granted, correctly and clever, Of the hour informs us, and state of the weather; But doubly delightful, their calling would be, Were they all wise enough to take lessons from Me; O when ding dong, ding dong, my Bell goes, Each Taylor leaps up at the sound; Off, to hear me, like roe bucks, they scampering set, So delighted, I’m told, that they cabbage forget, When sonorous I publish all round. FOURTH CALL. To be sold by Auction, J.M. Auctioneer, a large and choice Collection of Materials for Sleeping,—consisting of a Quantity of old News; erroneous and clumsy Statements of recent events; heavy Critiques on Theatrical Performers and Plays not performed; flat Pieces of uninteresting Biography; drowsy original Letters; dull Extracts from a northern Caput Mortuum of Insipidity; a Number of Puns, Jests, and old Anecdotes, warranted free from Attic Salt, chigramatic Point, or any other Ingredient capable of rousing Attention or exciting Risibility; also, a Quantity of pure Tyne Mercury, which possesses the peculiar Property of never rising in the Barometer of public Estimation, higher than the Point Ennui.—The Sale to begin every Monday Evening at Eight o’Clock, and continue till all be sold. I’m resolv’d—may I hope you’ll approve of the measure?— A short course of Lectures to give, when I’ve leisure; In order to perfect these Orators’ graces, Who cry Dying Speeches and Lists of the Races: But, hark! ding dong, the Prompter’s Bell goes, I’m electrified by the sound; Mr Lindoe, Yet Gratitude bids me one moment delay— Just to thank my kind Patrons all round. |
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