Discovering poetry: Samuel Johnson’s advice to a posh boy

‘A Short Song of Congratulation’

Long-expected one and twenty

Ling’ring year, at last is flown,

Pomp and Pleasure, Pride and Plenty

Great Sir John, are all your own.

Loosen’d from the Minor’s tether,

Free to mortgage or to sell,

Wild as wind, and light as feather

Bid the slaves of thrift farewel.

Call the Bettys, Kates, and Jennys

Ev’ry name that laughs at Care,

Lavish of your Grandsire’s guineas,

Show the Spirit of an heir.

All that prey on vice and folly

Joy to see their quarry fly,

Here the Gamester light and jolly

There the Lender grave and sly.

Wealth, Sir John, was made to wander,

Let it wander as it will;

See the Jocky, see the Pander,

Bid them come, and take their fill.

When the bonny Blade carouses,

Pockets full, and Spirits high,

What are acres? what are houses?

Only dirt, or wet or dry.

If the Guardian or the Mother

Tell the woes of wilful waste,

Scorn their counsel and their pother,

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