A Groats-worth of Mirth for a PENNY,
OR,
Will the Barber well Fitted for Cheating the Millers jolly Daughter Joan of a Fat Pig.
Shewing how he would have Pawned honest Joan , but she by good hap slipt away while he was dallying
with another Girl, and called her F ather, who came with Dick , and Harry , Will , Tom , Jack , Robin , honest Andrew ,
and Husling Hugh, and all the rest of the Robustious Fellows, and Soundly beating the Cheat, they carryed him
away a P ick-P ack, and threw him into the Mill-pond; with many other strange things which the Song will relate.
Joan pull'd off the Barbers Periwig,
To shew his Bald-Pate,
Because he paid not for the Barrow-Pig,
Which was Fat, Fat, Fat.
To the Tune of, The Country Farmer . This may be P rinted, R. L. S.
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C Ome Gallants and welcome, partake of my cheer,
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For Juggy crys welcome, I pray you draw near:
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There is a fine Jest if you knew but the matter,
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The Shaver was fitted for wronging kind nature:
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For Joan was most briskly a ganging to fair,
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In her way she did meet with a Clipper of Hair:
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Who straight-way demanded where goest thou my dear
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Then I'le tell you quoth Jugg , if you please for to hear.
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My Father's the Miller of yonder Town,
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As brisk an old fellow as ever was known,
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And with his Roan Mare he doth ride up and down,
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To bring all his Grist home to trusty Joan ;
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And now he hath sent me to yonder Fair,
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To see what a Market I'le make of my ware,
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I have Turneps, and Cabbidge, with a bag full of hair,
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And that is the reason you find me here.
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Then stay, quoth the Barber, and be not in hast,
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Hobs-bobbins, quoth Jug , I must hie full fast,
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It shall not be said for forty-pound,
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I will miss of my Linsey-woolsey gown:
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Which my father hath promis'd to give unto me,
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If I be but nimble to work handily:
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If not, then poor Juggy must come by the Lee,
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Then I will be jogging alone merrily.
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'Tis pitty fair Maid, thou should'st hie thus alone,
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And rather then fail I will go with thee Joan ,
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No, marry, quoth Juggy , there is no such need,
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I believe Mr. Barber you cannot make speed:
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But I tell you kind Sir, and [I] am not in jest,
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I will loose my Maiden head I do protest,
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Before the Old Souldier I at all will molest,
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Or anger my Father who loveth me best,
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No anger at all in the case there shall be,
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Then prithee sweet creature be ruled by me,
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For to tell you the truth, I'm in love with thy looks,
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And thy ruddy complection is much in my books:
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Thy sparkling eyes and thy Corral Lips,
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From which each true Lover his happiness sips,
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Thy slender wast and a pair of such Hips,
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Makes beauty it self for to suffer eclipse.
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I thank you kind Barber, I see you can scoff,
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Think not to dissemble and carry it off,
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Your jeering and fleering I quickly can find,
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But flattering tongues ne'r stall alter my mind;
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I'le be honest Jugg , and trusty still,
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A Virgin that never did think any ill,
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Then bring all your custome to my Fathers Mill,
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And Boy i'le be honest and true to thee st[i]ll.
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But this did not agree with the Barbers work,
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His mind did still ruminate on the shurk,
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Perceiving the Lass had a Pig in her bag;
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He shew'd her a trick like an unlu[c]ky wag:
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With perlavering speeches at last did perswade,
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And Conquered this harmless Maid,
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Straight into a Tavern this damsel he had,
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Where they sat and did drive a most wonderful Trade.
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The Pig it was eat, and poor Juggy was beat,
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Oh! the Barber did kick her about like a cheat:
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Like a Knave as he was, he ne'r paid for the treat,
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But now I am come to the cream of the Feat,
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Before that the Barber mov'd off from his seat,
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He was serv'd iin his kind, and very compleat,
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For there came in a Domsel so fine and so neat,
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That the Barber his business did strangely forget.
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While he tumbled and jumbled this Lady about,
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Cocks-bobbins the Millers fair Daughter got out,
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And straight to her father poor Juggy did run,
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And told him the mischief the Barber had done;
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Who vowed revenge or would ne'r carry Sack,
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He swore he would cut out his tongue for a clack,
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And taking a bag he brought him a pick-pack,
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Till he came to his Mill where he claw'd off his Back
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Oh! Father, quoth Juggy , let's cripple the Loon,
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We'l dip him quoth Robin , by the light of the Moon:
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Quoth Dick , let us cut off his ears for a cheat,
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Let's grind him, quoth Harry , till he pay for the treat:
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They made no more bones on't but rifle and rigg,
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They whipt him about till he danc'd them a jigg,
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They wash him and duck him, then taking his Wigg,
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Jugg swore it should serve to pay for the Pig.
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FINIS.
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