The Countrey mans chat,
Wherein you shall finde
How each man doth talke
To please his owne minde.
To the tune of, Welcome to Towne .
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I N place where late I chanced to be at
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a feast of friendly meetings,
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Where men and women of each degree,
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us'd kinde and courteous greetings,
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For their acquantance and their conference,
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one had with another,
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Well I noted as they sorted
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all their speech in order,
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Men by themselves, women likewise,
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men they talkt of Tillage,
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The prises of wheat, of sheep and Neat,
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and orders of their Village.
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First, quod John Thake , to the Goodman Lake ,
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what when doe ye gin sow Barly?
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Masse quoth he not, this sennet yet
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I thinke it's somewhat too early.
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Quoth Goodman Hare , to another there,
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how workes your land in Brimly ?
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Why, quoth old Paine , 'twants but a raine,
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but I warn't twould worke even trimly.
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Then, quoth old Jud , I thinke twere good,
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and if you sew't with Peason,
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No, quoth John How , were I as you,
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it should lye another season.
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Quod Goodman Ros , how's your horse,
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I heard he's sicke ath' stavers,
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Oh hang him Jade, quoth old John Dade ,
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its time he were at the Glovers.
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Quoth Goodman Read , to the Goodman Pead ,
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how sold you wheat at Hertford ?
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Faith, quoth old Brown , even halfe a crown
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and so twas sold at Storford .
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I never knew, quoth old John Trew ,
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the Markets to be slower.
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Nay, quoth old Snow , tis very like so,
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the prizes will be lower.
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Marry, quoth old Gue , pray God be true;
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then poore shall fare the better,
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Now forth came Mence , with's eloquence,
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yet he knew never a letter,
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Wee are confused, and infused,
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and our hedges broken,
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I faith, quoth Bars , I tell you sirs,
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my fields they lye all open,
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Faith, quoth old Neale , the poore wil steale,
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before they'l fall to working.
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I and whoore for all they're poore,
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they care not for a Jerking.
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These hedgebreakers I think it fit,
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that at next leete wee paine them,
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And these inmates, quoth Peter Gates ,
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how should a man restraine them.
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Faith Boyes and Girles, & knaves & truls,
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their can be no dividing,
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They must be matcht, and will be pitcht,
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somewhere to have a biding.
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Tush, quoth old Rule , man you're a foole,
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don't those so that have riches;
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But now they'l prevent th'impediment,
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for downe goes Cloackbag breeches.
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The second part. To the same tune.
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T hen, quod Goodman Dent , how shall we doe, this lent,
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they say ther's no good Herring
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There's no good white, quod Goodman Knight ,
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nay, Ile stand to't, quoth old Seering ,
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And quoth Tom Bush , law's strait lor flesh,
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if that's true, quoth old Kelly .
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Tush you may be excus'd, quod Goodman Hewes'd
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along of your wives great belly.
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You'r killing a calfe, quoth Goodman Roffe ,
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I catch this same at Roston ,
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Where I sold my hogs as cheap as any dogs,
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that I bestow'd such cost on.
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Quoth Goodman Fip , how standeth your sheep,
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they say there dies aboundant,
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Faith, quoth Ned Scot , they all have the rot,
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I hold a hundred pound ont,
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Nay thats a Jest, quoth Robin Feast,
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for I know heres good Mutton,
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Theres little found in all this Towne,
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Ile stand to't quoth old Hutton .
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What is there then, quoth Francis Wren ,
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that is without some misflaw,
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But stay your tale, quoth Humfrey Sale ,
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can ye spare us a loade of Peas-straw?
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What now John Dan , how dost thou man?
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me thinkes thou lookst but sickly,
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I doubt, quoth Jeames , he hath raid his seames,
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that makes him goe so featly,
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Now here John Simmes , to all our friends,
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in City and in Country,
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Doe let it come and Ile drinke round,
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to Dicke and so to Humfrey .
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man I was at Stadds with those old Lads,
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and there we drunke full deeply,
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Come, quoth Tom Trap , man take of your lap,
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and lets be going quickly.
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How doe's, quoth one, your neighbour Ton ,
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I doubt he thrives but slowly.
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But there's Ned Stitch is growne vile rich,
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which way the dewce is't know ye.
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Thus much delating and much chatting,
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is there at such meetings.
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If ought I leave you may it conceive,
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Ile now to the womens greeting
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For they were neatly talking featly,
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as they use at Banquets:
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Whose kindes I spide even last Shrovetide,
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when they were eating Pankakes.
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