Chapter 2

My Life and Death does lye both in your Power, And every Man to his Mind, _Shrewsbury_ for me; On the Bank of a Brook as I sat Fishing, Shall I Die a Maid and never Married be: Uds bobs let _Oliver_ now be forgotten, _Joan_ is as good as my Lady in the Dark; Cuckolds are Christians Boys all the World over, And here's a full Bumper to _Robin John Clark_.

_The_ TROOPER _Watering his_ NAGG.

[Music]

There was an old Woman liv'd under a Hill, Sing Trolly lolly, lolly, lolly, lo; She had good Beer and Ale for to sell, Ho, ho, had she so, had she so, had she so; She had a Daughter her name was _Siss_, Sing Trolly lolly, lolly, lolly, lo; She kept her at Home for to welcome her Guest, Ho, ho, did she so, did she so, did she so.

There came a Trooper riding by, Sing trolly, _&c._ He call'd for Drink most plentifully, Ho, ho, did he so, _&c._ When one Pot was out he call'd for another, Sing trolly, _&c._ He kiss'd the Daughter before the Mother, Ho, ho, did he so, _&c._

And when Night came on to Bed they went, Sing trolly, _&c._ It was with the Mother's own Consent, Ho, ho, was it so, _&c._ Quoth she what is this so stiff and warm, Sing trolly _&c._ 'Tis Ball my Nag he will do you no harm, Ho, ho, wont he so, _&c._

But what is this hangs under his Chin, Sing trolly, _&c._ 'Tis the Bag he puts his Provender in, Ho, ho, is it so, _&c._ Quoth he what is this? Quoth she 'tis a Well, Sing trolly, _&c._ Where Ball your Nag may drink his fill, Ho, ho, may he so, _&c._

But what if my Nag should chance to slip in, Sing trolly, _&c._ Then catch hold of the Grass that grows on the brim, Ho, ho, must I so, _&c._ But what if the Grass should chance to fail, Sing trolly, _&c._ Shove him in by the Head, pull him out by the Tail, Ho, ho, must I so, _&c._

_A Trip to the_ Jubilee. _The Tune by Mr._ R. Loe.

[Music]

Come bring us Wine in plenty, We've Money enough to spend; I hate to see the Pots empty, A Man cannot Drink to's Friend: Then drawer bring up more Wine, And merrily let it pass; We'll drink till our Faces do shine, He that wont may look like an Ass: And we'll tell him so to his Face, If he offers to baulk his Glass, For we defy all such dull Society.

'Tis drinking makes us merry, And Mirth diverts all Care; A Song of hey down derry, Is better than heavy Air: Make ready quickly my Boys, And fill up your Glasses higher; For we'll present with Huzzas, And merrily all give fire; Since drinking's our desire, And friendship we admire, For here we'll stay, ne'er call Drawer what's to pay.

_The_ GOOD FELLOW.

[Music]

Let's be jolly, fill our Glasses, Madness 'tis for us to think, How the World is rul'd by Asses, That o'ersway the Wise with Chink: Let not such vain Thoughts oppress us, Riches prove to them a Snare; We are all as rich as _Croesus_, Drink your Glasses, take no care.

Wine will make us fresh as Roses, And our Sorrows all forgot; Let us fuddle well our Noses, Drink ourselves quite out of Debt: When grim Death is looking for us, Whilst we're singing o'er our Bowls; _Bacchus_ joyning in our Chorus, Death depart, here's none but Souls.

JOCKEY'S _Escape from_ DUNDEE; _and the Parsons Daughter whom he had Mow'd._

[Music]

Where gott'st thou the _Haver-mill bonack_? Blind Booby can'st thou not see; Ise got it out of the _Scotch-man's_ Wallet, As he lig lousing him under a Tree: _Come fill up my Cup, come fill up my Can,_ _Come Saddle my Horse, and call up my Man;_ _Come open the Gates, and let me go free,_ _And shew me the way to bonny_ Dundee.

For I have neither robbed nor stole, Nor have I done any injury; But I have gotten a Fair Maid with Child, The Minister's Daughter of bonny _Dundee_: _Come fill up my Cup, come fill up my Can,_ _Come saddle my Horse and call up my Man,_ _Come open the Gates and let me go free,_ _And Ise gang no more to bonny_ Dundee.

Altho' Ise gotten her Maiden-head, Geud feth Ise given her mine in lieu; For when at her Daddy's Ise gang to Bed, Ise mow'd her without any more to do? Ise cuddle her close, and gave her a Kiss, Pray tell now where is the harm of this, _Then open the Gates and let me go free,_ _And Ise gang no more to bonny_ Dundee.

All _Scotland_ ne'er afforded a Lass, So bonny and blith as _Jenny_ my dear; Ise gave her a Gown of Green on the Grass, But now Ise no longer must tarry here: Then saddle my Nag that's bonny and gay, For now it is time to gang hence away, _Then open the Gates and let me go free,_ _She's ken me no more to bonny_ Dundee.

In Liberty still I reckon to Reign, For why I have done no honest Man wrong; The Parson may take his Daughter again, For she'll be a Mammy before it is long: And have a young Lad or Lass of my breed, Ise think I have done her a generous deed; _Then open the Gates and let me go free,_ _For Ise gang no more to bonny_ Dundee.

Since _Jenny_ the Fair was willing and kind, And came to my Arms with a ready good will; A token of love Ise left her behind, Thus I have requited her kindness still: Tho' _Jenny_ the Fair I often had mow'd, Another may reap the harvest I sow'd, _Then open the Gates and let me go free,_ _She's ken me no more to bonny_ Dundee.

Her Daddy would have me to make her my Bride, But have and to hold I ne'er could endure; From bonny _Dundee_ this Day I will ride, It being a place not safe and secure: Then _Jenny_ farewel my Joy and my dear, With Sword in my Hand the passage I'se clear; _Then open the Gates and let me go free,_ _For Ise gang no more to Bonny_ Dundee.

My Father he is a muckle good Leard, My Mother a Lady bonny and gay; Then while I have strength to handle a Sweard, The Parson's request Ise never obey: Then _Sawny_ my Man be thou of my Mind, In bonny _Dundee_ we'se ne'er be confin'd, _The Gates we will force to set ourselves free,_ _And never come more to bonny_ Dundee.

The _Sawny_ reply'd Ise never refuse, To fight for a Leard so valiant and bold; While I have a drop of Blood for to lose, E'er any fickle Loon shall keep us in hold: This Sweard in my Hand I'll valiantly weild, And fight by your side to kill or be kill'd, _For forcing the Gates and set ourselves free,_ _And so bid adieu to bonny_ Dundee.

With Sweard ready drawn they rid to the Gate, Where being denied an Entrance thro' The Master and Man they fought at that rate, That some ran away, and others they slew: Thus _Jockey_ the Leard and _Sawny_ the Man, They valiantly fought as Highlanders can, _In spight of the Loons they set themselves free,_ _And so bid adieu to bonny_ Dundee.

_A_ SONG. _Sung by Mr._ Dogget.

[Music:

Let's sing of Stage-Coaches, and fear no Reproaches; for riding in one, but daily be jogging, while whistling, and flogging, while whistling and flogging, the Coachman drives on; with a hey geeup, geeup hey ho, with a hey gee Dobin hey ho, hey, geeup, geeup, geeup hey ho, geeup, geeup, geeup hey ho, with a hey, gee Dobin hey ho.]

In Coaches thus strowling, Who wou'd not be rowling; With Nymphs on each side, Still Pratling and Playing; Our Knees interlaying, We merrily ride. _With a hey_, &c.

Here chance kindly mixes, All sorts and all Sexes, More Females than Men, We squeese 'em, we ease 'em, The jolting does please 'em, Drive jollily then, _With a hey_, &c.

The harder you're driving, The more 'tis reviving, Nor fear we to tell, For if the Coach tumble, We'll have a rare Jumble, And then up tails all, _With a hey_, &c.

_The Crafty Cracks of_ East-Smith-Field, _who pick't up a Master Colour upon_ Tower-Hill, _whom they Plundred of a Purse of_ Silver, _with above Threescore_ Guineas.

[Music]

You Master Colours pray draw near, And listen to my Report; My Grief is great, for lo of late, Two Ladies I chanc'd to Court: Who did meet me on _Tower-Hill_, Their Beauties I did behold: _Those Crafty Jades have learnt their Trades,_ _And plunder'd me of my Gold._

I'll tell you how it came to pass, This sorrowful Story is thus: Of Guineas bright a glorious Sight, I had in a Cat-skin Purse: The Value of near Fourscore Pounds, As good as e'er I had told, _Those Crafty Jades have learnt their Trades,_ _And plunder'd me of my Gold._

I saw two poor distressed Men, Who lay upon _Tower-Hill_, To whom in brief I gave Relief, According to my good Will: Two wanton Misses drawing near, My Guineas they did behold; They laid a Plot by which they Got, My Silver and yellow Gold.

They both address'd themselves to me, And thus they was pleas'd to say; Kind Sir, indeed, we stand in need, Altho' we are fine and gay: Of some Relief which you may give, I thought they were something bold; The Plot was laid, I was betray'd, And plunder'd of all my Gold.

Alas 'tis pity, then I cry'd, Such Ladies of good Repute, Should want Relief, therefore in brief, I gave 'em a kind Salute: Thought I of them I'll have my Will, Altho' I am something old; They were I see too wise for me, They plunder'd me of my Gold.

Then to _East-Smithfield_ was I led, And there I was entertain'd: With Kisses fine and Brandy Wine, In Merriment we remain'd: Methought it was the happiest Day, That ever I did behold; Sweet Meat alass! had sower Sauce, They plunder'd me of my Gold.

Time after Time to pay their Shot, My Guineas I would lug out; Those Misses they wou'd make me stay, And rally the other bout: I took my Fill of Pleasures then Altho' I was something old; Those Joys are past, they would not last, I'm plunder'd of all my Gold.

As I was at the wanton Game, My Pocket they fairly pick'd; And all my Wealth they took by stealth, Thus was a poor Colour trick'd: Let me therefore a Warning be, To Merchants both young and old; For now of late hard was my Fate, I'm plunder'd of all my Gold.

They got three Pounds in Silver bright, And Guineas above Threescore, Such sharping Cracks breaks Merchants Backs, I'll never come near them more: Sure now I have enough of them, My Sorrow cannot be told; That crafty Crew makes me look Blew, I'm plunder'd of all my Gold.

_The Dance of the_ USURER _and the_ Devil.

[Music]

Last _Christmas_ 'twas my chance, To be in _Paris_ City; Where I did see a Dance, In my conceit was very pretty--By men of France.

First came the Lord of _Pool_, And he begun his Measure; The next came in a Fool, And danc'd with him for pleasure--With his Tool.

The next a Knight came in, Who look'd as he would swagger; And after follow'd him A merry needy Beggar--Dancing in.

The next a Gentleman, On him a Servant tending, And there the Dance began, With nimble Bodies bending--Like two Friends.

Then in a Lawyer came, With him a Knave came leaping; And as they Danc'd in Frame, So Hand in Hand went skipping--To the Term.

The next a Citizen, And he a Cuckold leading; So round about the Room, Their Masque they fell a Treading--And fain they would.

The next an Usurer, Old fat Guts he came grunting; The Devil left all care, For joy he fell a Jumping--To see him there.

And ending then their Masque, The Fool his Lord he carries Upon his Back in hast, No longer there he tarries--But left the place.

The Beggar took the Knight, Who took it in Derision; The Searjeant took in Spite, The Gentleman to Prison--For all his might.

The Cuckold, silly Man, Altho' he was abhorred: He took the Citizen, And led him by the Forehead--And out he ran.

The Devil lik'd it well, His lot it was to carry; The Usurer to Hell, And there with him to tarry.

_The_ SUBURBS _is a fine place: To the_ Tune _of_ LONDON _is a fine Town._

[Music]

The Suburbs is a fine Place belonging to the City, It has no Government at all, alack the more the Pity; A Wife, a silly Animal, esteemed in that same Place, For there a Civil Woman's now asham'd to shew her Face: The Misses there have each Man's Time, his Money, nay, his Heart, Then all in all, both great and small, and all in ev'ry Part.

Which Part it is a thorough-fair so open and so large, One well might sail through ev'ry Tail even in a western Barge; These Cracks that Coach it now, when first they came to Town, Did turn up Tail for a Pot of Ale in Linsey Wolsey Gown.

The Bullies first debauch'd 'em, in Baudy _Covent-Garden_, That filthy place, where ne'er a Wench was ever worth a Farthing; And when their Maiden-heads are sold to sneaking Lords, Which Lords are Clapt at least nine-fold for taking of their Words.

And then my Lord, that many tries, she looks so Innocent, Believing he Infected her, he makes a Settlement; These are your Cracks, who skill'd in all kind of Debauches, Do daily piss, spue and whore in their own glass Coaches.

Now Miss turn Night-walker, till Lord-Mayor's Men she meets, O'er Night she's Drunk, next Day she's finely flogged thro' _London_ streets; After their Rooms of State are chang'd to Bulks or Coblers Stalls, 'Till Poverty and Pox agree they dying in Hospitals.

This Suburbs gallant Fop that takes delight in Roaring, He spends his time in Huffing, Swearing, Drinking, and in Whoring; And if an honest Man and his Wife meet them in the Dark, Makes nothing to run the Husband through to get the name of Spark.

But when the Constable appears, the Gallant, let me tell ye, His Heart denies his Breeches, and sinks into his Belly; These are the silly Rogues that think it fine and witty, To laugh and joak at Aldermen, the Rulers of the City.

They'd kiss our Wives, but hold, for all their plotting Pates, While they would get us Children, we are getting their Estates; And still in vain they Court pretending in their Cares, That their Estates may thus descend unto the Lawful Heirs.

Their Play-houses I hate, are Shops to set off Wenches, Where Fop and Miss, like Dog and Bitch, do couple under Benches; That I might advise the chiefest Play-house monger, I have a Sister of my own both Handsomer and Younger.

She lives not far off in the Parish of St. _Clements_, She never liv'd in Cellar nor sold Oranges and Lemons: Then why should Play-house Trulls with Paint and such Temptations, Be an Eye sore to me & more to the best part o'th' Nation.

Now you that all this while have listened to my Dity, With streightened Hands pray drink a Health unto this noble City: And let us pray to _Jove_, these Suburb folks to mend, And having now no more to say, I think it fit to end.

_The Old Woman's_ WISH.

[Music]

As I went by an Hospital, I heard an Old Woman cry, Kind Sir, quoth she, be kind to me, Once more before I Die, And grant to me those Joys, That belong to Woman-kind, And the Fates above reward your Love, To an old Woman Poor and Blind.

I find an itching in my Blood, Altho' it be something Cold, Therefore Good Man do what you can, To comfort me now I'm Old. And Grant to me those Joys, That belong to Woman-kind, And the Fates above Reward your Love, To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.

Altho' I cannot see the Day, Nor never a glance of light; Kind Sir, I swear and do declare, I honour the Joys of Night: Then grant to me those Joys, That belong to Woman-kind, And the Fates above Reward you Love, To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.

When I was in my Blooming Youth, My vigorous Love was Hot; Now in my Age I dare Engage, A fancy I still have got: Then give to me those Joys, That belong to Woman-kind, And the Fates above Reward your Love, To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.

You shall miss of a Reward, If Readily you comply; Then do not Blush but touch my flesh. This minute before I die: O let me tast those Joys, That belong to Woman-kind, And the Fates above reward your Love, To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.

I Forty Shillings would freely give, 'Tis all the Mony I have; Which I full long have begged for, To carry me to my Grave: This I would give to have the Bliss, That belongs to Woman-kind, And the Fates above reward your Love, To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.

I had a Husband in my Youth, As very well 'tis known, The truth to tell he pleased me well, But now I am left alone; And long to tast the good Old Game, That belongs to Woman-kind: And the Fates above Reward your Love, To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.

If Forty Shillings will not do, My Petticoat and my Gown; Nay Smock also shall freely go, To make up the other Crown: Then Sir, pray Grant that kind Request, That belongs to Woman-kind; And the Fates above Reward your Love, To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.

Tho' I am Fourscore Years of Age, I love with a Right good Will; And what in truth I want in Youth, I have it in perfect Skill: Then grant to me that Charming Bliss, That belongs to Woman-kind; And the Fates above Reward your Love, To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.

Now if you do not pleasure me, And give me the thing I crave; I do protest I shall not rest, When I am laid in my Grave: Therefore kind Sir, grant me the Joys, That belong to Woman-kind; And the Fates above Reward your Love, To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.

_The Mad-Man's_ SONG.

[Music]

There can be no Glad-man compar'd to the Mad-man, His Mind is still void of Care; His Fits and his Fancies, are above all Mischances, And Mirth is his ordinary Fare. _Then be thou Mad, Mad, Mad let's be,_ _Nor shall the foul Fiend be Madder than we._

The Wise and the Witty, in Court and in City, Are subject to sorrow and Pain; While he that is Mad, knows not why to be Sad, Nor has any cause to complain: _Then be thou Mad_, &c.

We laugh at you Wise Men, that thus do despise Men, Whose Senses you think to Decline; Mark well and you'll see, what you count but Frenzy, Is indeed but Raptures Divine. _Then be thou Mad_, &c.

Let the Grave and the Wise, pluck out their Eyes, To set forth a Book worth a Groat; We Mad-men are quicker, grow Learn'd with good Liquor, And Chirp a Merry note. _Then be thou Mad_, &c.

Hast thou lost thy Estate Man, why, care not for that Man, What Wealth may'st not fancy thy own; More than Queen _Dido_, or her Ass-Ear'd _Midas_, That great Philosopher's stone. _Then be thou Mad_, &c.

_Pompey_ was a Mad-man, and so long a Glad-man; But at length he was forc'd to flee; For _Caesar_ from _Gallia_ beat him in _Pharsalia_, 'Cause a madder Fellow then he. _Then be thou Mad_, &c.

'Twas this Extasie brave, that the great Courage gave, If your Eyes were but ope'd and would see; To great _Alexander_, that mighty Commander, As Mad a Fellow as could be. _Then be thou Mad_, &c.

Then around goes a Health to the Lady o'th' House, If any Man here does forsake it; For a Fool let him go, we know better Manners, And so we mean to take it. _Then be thou Mad_, &c.

There's no Night Mirth's going, nor any Lad wooing, But Mad-men are privy unto it; For the Stars so peep, into every such thing, And wink upon us as you do it. _Then be thou Mad_, &c.

When the Frost, Ice and Snow, do benumb things below, We Chirp as merry as Larks; Our Sack and our Madness, consumes cold and sadness, And we are the Jovial Sparks. _Then be thou Mad_, &c.

Has thy Mistress frown'd on thee, or thy Rival out-gone thee? Let Sober and Wise Fellows pine; Whilst bright _Miralind_ and goodly _Dulcind_, And the rest of the Fairies are thine. _Then be thou Mad_, &c.

A Mad-man needs baulk no manner of talk, His Tongues never guilty with Treason; But a Wise Knave would suffer, if the same he should utter, For a wise Man's Guilt is his Reason. _Then be thou Mad_, &c.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

A Shepherd kept Sheep on a Hill so high, _fa, la, la_, &c. And there came a pretty Maid passing by, _fa, la_, &c. Shepherd, quoth she, dost thou want e'er a Wife, No by my troth I'm not weary of my Life, _fa, la, la_, &c.

Shepherd for thee I care not a Fly, _fa, la, la_, For thou'st not the Face with a fair Maid to lie, _fa, la_, How now my Damsel, say'st thou me so, Thou shalt tast of my bottle before thou dost go, _fa, la_.

Then he took her and laid her upon the Ground, _fa, la_, And made her believe that the World went round, _fa, la_, Look yonder my Shepherd, look yonder I spy, There are fine pretty Babies that dance in the Sky, _fa, la_.

And now they are vanisht, and now they appear, _fa, la_, Sure they will tell Stories of what we do here, _fa, la, la_, Lie still my dear _Chloris_, enjoy thy Conceit, For the Babes are too young and too little to prate, _fa, la, la_.

See how the Heavens fly swifter than Day, _fa, la, la_, Rise quickly, or they will all run away, _fa, la, la_, Rise quickly my Shepherd, quickly I tell ye, For the Sun, Moon and Stars are got all in my Belly, _fa, la_.

O dear, where am I? pray shew me the way, _fa, la, la_, Unto my Father's House hard by, _fa, la, la_, If he chance to Chide me for staying so long, I'll tell him the fumes of your Bottle were strong, _fa, la, la_.

And now thou hast brought my Body to shame, _fa, la_, I prithee now tell me what is thy Name, _fa, la, la_, Why _Robin_ in the Rushes my Name is, quoth he, But I think I told her quite contrary, _fa, la, la_.

Then for _Robin_ in the Rushes, she did enquire, _fa, la, la_, But he hung down his Head, and he would not come nigh her, _fa, la, la_, He wink'd with one Eye, as if he had been Blind, And he drew one Leg after a great way behind, _fa, la, la_.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

As I was a walking under a Grove, Within my self, as I suppos'd; My Mind did oftentimes remove, And by no means could be disclosed: At length by chance a Friend I met, Which caused me long time to tarry; And thus of me she did intreat, To tell her when I meant to Marry.

Sweet-heart, quoth I, if you would know, Then hear the Words, and I'll reveal it; Since in your Mind you bear it so, And in your Heart you will conceal it: She promis'd me she'd make no Words, But of such things she would be wary; And thus in brief I did begin, To tell her when I meant to Marry.

When _Shrove-tide_ falls in _Easter_ week, And _Christmas_ in the midst of _July_; When Lawyers for no Fees will Plead, And Taylors they prove Just and Truly: When all Deceits are quite put down, And Truth by all Men is preferred; And _Indigo_ dies Red and Brown, O then my Love and I'll be Married.

When Men and Beasts in the Ocean flow, And Fishes in green Fields are feeding; When Muscle-shells in the Streets grow, And Swans upon dry Rocks be breeding: When Cockle-shells are Diamond Rings, And Glass to Pearl may be compared; Gold is made of a Grey-goose Wings, Oh then my Love and I'll be Married.

When hostesses do reckon true, And _Dutchmen_ leave off drinking Brandy; When Cats do bark, and Dogs do Mew, And Brimstone is took for Sugar-candy: Or when that _Whitsontide_ do fall, Within the Month of _January_; And a Cobler works without an Awl, O then my, _&c._

When Women know not how to Scold, And Maids on Sweet-hearts ne'er are thinking; When Men in the Fire complain of Cold, And Ships on _Salisbury_ Plain fear sinking: Or when Horse-Coursers turn honest Men, And _London_ into _York_ is carried; And out of One you can take Ten, Oh then, _&c._

When Candlesticks do serve for Bells, And Frying-pans they do use for Ladles; When in the Sea they dig for Wells, And Porridge-pots they use for Cradles: When Maids forget to go a _Maying_, And a Man on his Back an Ox can carry; Or when the Mice with the Cat be playing, Oh then, _&c._

Good Sir, since you have told me when, That you're resolv'd for to Marry; I wish with all my Heart till then, That for a Wife you still may tarry: But if all young Men were of your mind, And Maids no better were preferred; I think it were when the D----l were blind, That we and our Lovers should be Married.

Gilderoys _last Farewel. To a New Tune._

[Music]