Anticlimaxes: The Old Fumbler (Anon. Pills 1719)
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Lyrics
Smug, rich and fantastick old Fumbler was known,
That wedded a Juicy brisk Girl of the Town;
Her Face like an Angel, Fair, Plump, and a Maid,
Her Lute well in Tune too, cou'd he but have plaid:
But lost was his Skill, let him do what he can,
She finds him in Bed a weak silly old Man;
He coughs in her Ear, "'tis in vain to come on,
Forgive me, my Dear, I'm a silly old man."
She laid his dry Hand on her snowy soft Breast,
And from those white Hills gave a glimpse of the Best;
But ah! what is Age when our Youth's but a Span,
She found him an Infant instead of a Man,
"Ah! Pardon," he'd cry, "that I'm, weary so soon,
You have let down my Base, I'm no longer in Tune;
Lay by the dear Instrument, prithee lie still,
I can play but one Lesson, and that I play Ill."