Mum

YE Gossips who blab out the secrets of State,
Ye Tell-tales who over the tea-tables prate,
Ye Boasters of Favours from Beauties o'ercome,
Be wiser poor Pratlers, henceforward be mum.
Sing tantararara mum all.

Ye Wives who have Husbands neglecting their duties,
That time give the Bottle that's due to your beauties;
Would you cure them? take care when in drink they reel home,
To receive them with smiles, and resolve to be mum.

It is good to hold fast, to hold much, or hold long,
But the best hold of all is the holding your Tongue;
Tho' Wits by their words good companions become,
Can they get half so much as the Man who is mum?

The Servant who slily keeps silent will rise,
His ears he must doubt, nor give faith to his eyes;
Ask the fine Waiting-maid how she rich cou'd become,
She will curt'sy and answer, because I was mum.

But enough has been said, and enough has been sung,
Remember, dear friends, keep good watch o'er your Tongue;
I have no more to say, to an end I am come,
My Rhymes are all out, I must henceforth be mum.
Sing tantararara mum all.