THE
LONDON LADY
OR,
Wise and Wanton,
Shewing how a London Lass was Courteously Entertained by Eight
Sweet-hearts, a Water-man, a Sea-man, a Scrivener, a Taylor, a
Shoo-maker, a Cooper, a Lawyer, and at last was Married to a Joyner.
Whence every Maid may learn Discretion, and how to carry them-
selves towards their Heart-broken Lovers.
Tune of, Four pence half penny Farthing; Or, Tom the Taylor.
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THere liv'd a Lass in London Town,
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both hansome Fair and Witty,
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Another such could not be found,
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in Country nor in City;
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She liv'd by her Witts, she liv'd by her Witts,
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which made her many a Bargan,
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She turn'd a Whore, and got no more,
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but Four pence half penny Farthing.
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A lusty Lad a Water-man,
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did see her when't was early;
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He did admire her Gloves and Fan,
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and Courted her most rarely;
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But he got Kissing by't, he got kissing by't,
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and spent his Pay to a Farthing;
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He hug'd all Night, till it was light,
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and g[o]t the POX i th the bargain.
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A Sea-man that did want a Voige,
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a Crown he freely lent her;
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Then briskly he did go on Board,
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and to the Straits did Venter;
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But she was a Fire-ship, she was a Fire-ship,
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her Deck not worth a Farthing,
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He Curst and Swore, and call'd her Whore,
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and would not stand to the Bargan.
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A Scrivener found her at a Shop,
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and ask'd if she sold Parchment;
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Quoth she I'll shew you soft and white,
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if you will be my Merchant;
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'Tis good said she, it sinks quoth he,
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I'm cheated in my Bargan;
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Quoth she I think. your Pen wants Ink,
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you Write not worth a Farthing.
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A Taylor that was out of Work,
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inquir'd if she was nimble,
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Quoth she if you'll find Chalk and Sheer,
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I'll fit you with a Thimble.
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But he got Cabbage by't, he got Cabbage by't,
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that was not worth a Farthing;
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He sow'd a stitch, and got the Itch,
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and spoil'd his Needle to the Bargan.
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A young Man of the Gentle Craft,
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a Journey Man Shoo-maker,
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Did gravely kiss her in the dark,
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and took her for a quaker;
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He set her down upon her Lap,
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and there struck up a Bargan,
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His Awl was nought, the Lady Laught,
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you do not earn a Farthing.
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A Cooper that did bear about
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a Mallet and a driver,
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He swore that he her mind would ease,
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and of her Grief deprive her;
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He clasp'd her round about the Wast,
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and turn'd her up to right her,
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He made her stoop, and drove a Hoop,
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but she was ne'r the tighter.
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A Lawyer he did smile on her,
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and ask'd if she was plyant:
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Dum Procitors Plead at my Bar,
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yet you shall be my Clyent;
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She for a Trick, his Gold did pick,
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and left him never a Farthing,
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She got Money by't, she got Money by't,
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and brag'd of her fine Bargan.
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At last their came a Joyner bold,
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was Hansome Brisk and Airy,
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Without delay he fell to work,
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and he the Whench did carry;
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I have (quoth he) an Augar sharp,
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if you'll find Board, I'll Bore it,
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I'll drive a Nale that will not fail,
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tho' there's been none before it.
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You Iron-hearted London Maids,
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that never speak discreitly,
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To Love-sick Lovers, when they come,
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at Night, to use you sweetly;
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Take here Example, by this Nymph,
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not too Chast, nor too Wanton:
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But live by your Witts, and live by your Witts,
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like Mrs. Mall Mark Anton.
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Lycensed, and Entered according to Order, June the 19th. 1689.
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