Turners dish of Lentten stuffe, or a Galymaufery.
To the tune of Watton Townes end.
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M Y Maisters all attend you,
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if mirth you love to heare:
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And I will tell you what they cry,
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in London all the yeare.
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Ile please you if I can,
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I will not be too long,
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I pray you all attend a while,
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and listen to my song.
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The fish-wife first begins,
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nye Musckles lylly white:
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Hearings, Sprats, or Pleace,
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or Cockles for delight.
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Nye welflet Oysters:
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then she doth change her note,
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She had need to ha[n]e her tongue by grease
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for she rattles in the throat.
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For why they are but Kentish,
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to tell you out of doubt:
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Her measure is to little,
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go beate the bottom out.
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Halfe a Pecke for two pence,
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I doubt it is a bodge,
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Thus all the citty over,
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the people they do dodge.
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The wench that cries the Kitchin stuffe,
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I marvell what she ayles:
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She sings her note so merry,
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but she has a dragle taile,
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An empty Car came running,
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and hit her on the bum,
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Downe she threw her greasie tub,
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and away that she did run.
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But she did give a blessing,
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to some but not to all:
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To beare a loade to Tyburne,
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and there to let it fall,
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The miller with his golden thumbe,
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and his dusty necke:
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If that he grind but two bushels,
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he needs must steale a peck.
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The Weaver and the Tayler,
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cozens they be sure:
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They cannot worke but they must steale,
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to keepe their hands in ure,
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For it is a common proverbe,
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throughout all the towne,
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The Taylor he must cut three sleeves,
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for every womans gowne.
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Marke but the Water man,
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attending for his fare:
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Of hot and could, of wet and dry,
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he alwaies takes a share.
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He carrieth bony lasses,
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over to the plaies,
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And here and there he gets a bit,
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and that his stomake staies.
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There was a stinging boy,
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did write to ride to Rumford:
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When I go to my close stoole,
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I will put him in a comfort:
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But what I leave behind,
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shall be no private gaine:
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But all is one when I am gone,
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let him take it for his paine.
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Ould shoes for new Broomes,
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the broome man he doth sing:
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For hats or caps or buskins,
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or any ould Pooch rings.
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[Buy] a Mat, a bed Mat,
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[a padl]ock or a Pas,
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A co[ver] for a close stoole,
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a bigger or a lesse.
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Ripe Chery ripe,
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the Coster-[mon]ger cries,
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Pipins fine, or Peares,
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another after hies,
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With basket on his head,
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his living to advance,
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And in his purse a paire of Dice,
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for to play at Mumchance.
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Hot Pippin pies,
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to sell unto my friends:
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Or puding pies in pans,
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well stuft with Candles ends,
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Will you by any Milke,
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I heare a wench to cry,
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With a paile of fresh Cheese and, creame
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another after hies.
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Oh the wench went neately,
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my thought it did me good:
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To see her cheery cheekes,
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so dimpled ore with blood,
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Her wastecoate washed white:
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as any lilly flower,
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would I had time to talke with her
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the space of halfe an houre.
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Buy blacke, saith the blacking man
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the best that ere was seene:
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Tis good for poore men Cittizens
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to make their shooes to shine,
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Oh tis a rare comodity,
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it must not be for-got,
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It wil make them glister gallantly
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and quickly make them rot.
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the world is ful of thred bare poets,
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that live upon their pen:
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But they will write too eloquent,
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they are such witty men.
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But the Tinker with his budget,
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the begger with his walled,
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And Turners turnd a gallant man,
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at making of a Ballet.
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FINIS.
Imprinted at London for J.W.
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The second part, or you are welcome my guest to
your Lentten fare if you come when Lent is gone, you
shall have better cheere, To the same tune,
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T Hat's the fat foole of the Curtin,
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and the leane foole of the Bull:
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Since Shanke did leave to sing his rimes,
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he is counted but a gull.
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The players of the Banke side,
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the round Globe and the Swan,
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Will teach you idle trickes of love,
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but the Bull will play the man.
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But what do I stand tattling,
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of such Idle toyes:
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I had better go to Smith-field,
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to play among the Boyes,
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But you cheating and decoying Lads,
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with your base Art-tillery:
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I would wish you shun Newgate,
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and withall the Pillery,
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And some there be in patcht gownes,
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I know not what they be:
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They pinch the simple Cuntry men,
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with nimming of a fee.
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For where they get a booty,
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theyle make him pay so deere,
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Theyle entertaine more in a day,
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then he shall in a yeere.
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Which wakes them trimme up houses,
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made of brick, and stone:
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And poore men goe a begging,
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when house and land is gone.
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Some there be with both hands!
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will sweare they will not dally,
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Till they have turnd all upsie downe,
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as mnay use to salley.
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You Pedlers give good measure,
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when as your wares you sell:
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though your yard be short your thum wil slip,
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your trickes I know full wel,
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And you that set your wares by waight,
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and live upon the trade:
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Some beames be false, som waits to light
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such trikes there have bin plaid.
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Buy smale Coles, or great Coles,
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I have them one my backe:
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The Goose lies in the bottom
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you may heere the Ducke cry quacke,
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Thus grim the blacke Colyer,
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whose living is so loose,
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As he doth walke the comans ore,
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some times he steales a goose.
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Thou Usurer with thy money bags,
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that liveth so at ease:
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By gaping after gould thou doest,
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thy mighty God displease,
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And for thy greedy usu[rie]
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and thy great exto[rtion]:
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Exdept thou doest repent thy sinnes,
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hel fire wilbe thy portion.
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For first I came to Hounds-dich,
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then round about I crept:
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Where cruelty is crowned chiefe,
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and pitty fast a sleepe,
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Where Usury gets profit,
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and brokers beare the bel,
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Oh fie upon this deadly sinne,
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it sinkes the house to hel.
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The man that sweepes the chimneys,
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with the bunsh of thornes:
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And one his necke a trusse of poles,
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tipped al with hornes.
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With care he is not cumbred,
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he liveth not in dread:
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For though he weares them on his pole,
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some weare them one there head.
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The Landlord with his racking rents,
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turne poore men out of doore:
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There children goe a begging,
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where they have spent their store,
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I hope none is offended:
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at that which is indited,
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If any be, let him go home,
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and take a pen and write it.
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Buy a trap a Mouse trap,
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a tormentor for the fleas:
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The hang-man workes but halfe the day,
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he lives too much at ease.
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Come let us leave this boyes play,
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and idle prittle prat,
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And let us goe to nine holes,
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to spurne point or to cat.
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Oh you nimble fingured lads,
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that lives upon your wits:
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Take heed of Tyburne Ague,
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for they be daungerous fits.
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For many a proper man,
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for to supply his lacke:
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Doth leape a leape at Tyburne,
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which makes his neck to crack.
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And to him that writ this song,
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I give this simple lot:
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Let every one be ready,
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to give him halfe a pot.
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And thus I doe conlude,
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wishing both health and peace,
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To those that are laid in their bed,
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and cannot sleepe for fleas.
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FINIS. W. Turner.
At London printed for J. W.
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