THE
Town-bully's Bravery:
OR, THE
HIGH-WAY HECTOR's
Ample Confession of his Lew'd LIFE;
Being a fore-runner of an ignominious DEATH.
Tune of, The Scotch Hay-maker. Licensed according to Order.
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I 'M as bold a Hector as any's in the Town,
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Each day to seek a Booty I ramble up and down,
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In my gaudy rich Array, still my Plumbs I do display,
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My golden Trimming on young Women commonly I prey,
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For while the Merchant is at the Change ,
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Strait to his youthful Lady immediately I range,
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My kindness for to show, and then before I go,
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Both Gold and Treasure, out of measure, she presents her Bow.
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Many other Fancies I commonly contrive,
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A Pocket I can pick with the very best alive;
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If a Croud I chance to spy, then to Filing who but I,
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Boy, to the center, strait I venter for a fresh supply,
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Few will immagine I was him,
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Because my rich Array is so gaudy, fine and trim:
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Thus, like a Bully-Bow, I make a taring show,
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With Sword and Rapier do I caper where-soe're I go.
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All the newest Fashions which any Gallants use,
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I do follow to the life, see Spanish- leather Shooes,
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Campaign-wig, of Flaxin-hair, Beaver-hat and Silks I wear
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With Golden-fringes, Drawers scringes when I do repair
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Unto the Tavern, where I do call
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For Sack and other Wine, yet I seldom pay at all;
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A Room I take below, and watch my time to go,
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And thus I leave them and deceive them like a Bully-Bow.
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Sometimes I am mounted upon a dapple Gray,
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To take Purse or so upon the King's High-Way,
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With a Pistol in my hand, and the word is D______ Stand,
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Likewise Deliver, then they quiver, yield to my demand;
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Now if they are not quarelsome Men,
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Perhaps I'll throw a Crown for to bear their Charges then:
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Thus I in Guinea's flow, which makes a taring show,
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You may conjecture that I hecter like a Bully-Bow.
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Having got my Booty I make no more ado,
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But ride to hunt and find out a brace of Cracks or two,
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Where in pleasant fond delight I do pass away the night,
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Then e're next morning, day's adorning, I am ruin'd quite;
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Then when the Cracks I have fairly claw'd,
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I fall into a passion, both kick and bang the Baud,
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The Jugs about I throw for serving of me so,
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You may conjecture that I hector like a Bully Bow.
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When I am Condemned for Pranks which I have play'd,
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Up Holbourn-hill I shall be most carefully convey'd,
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In a Cart which I shall ride, with a Crowd on e'ry side,
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Before and after, fill'd with laughter, for to see my ty'd;
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Then will they hollow, and cry aloud,
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As I am still persu'd by the cry of all the Croud:
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Come, come you Bully-Bows, who us'd to sing old Rose,
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Your Hector, Hector, roaring Hector, see him where he goes.
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