THE
Trappan'd Welsh-man,
Sold to Virginia.
Showing how a Welsh man came to London, and went to see the Royal Exchange,
where he met a Handsom Lass, with whom he was Enamoured; who pretending
to shew him the Ships, carried him a board a Virginia Man and Sold him, having
first got the Welsh-mans Gold, to his great grief and sorrow.
To the Tune of, Monsieurs Misfortune. This may be Printed, R. P.
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NOt long ago hur came to London,
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some pritty Fashions for to see,
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Sure hur were mad so to be undone,
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in middle of hur Bravery:
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Hur knew hur got much Wit as any,
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when hur arrived here from Wales,
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Cots-plot, hur knew Deceivers many,
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hur now be sure must tell no Tales.
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Hur came to see the Exchange so neatly,
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and wor no Shangling you may think,
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But hur wor serv'd a trick compleatly,
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in time that any man can wink:
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But wor not this an unlucky Baggage,
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a harmless Welsh-man to trappan?
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She's told hur 'twor an ancient Adage,
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Shack wor not born a Shentleman.
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But hur had now a Shet put on hur,
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as he did view the Rarities,
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A scurvy trick was put upon hur,
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by one wor favour'd in hur eyes:
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Plutter-a-nails, cou'd hur get home Sir
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hur ne'r wou'd haf a mind to range,
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wou'd hang byth' neck before hur roam sir
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to London Town to see the Shange .
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Looking about on ev'ry matter,
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he could not chuse but all commend,
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He never saw things of such nature,
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and thus he did his Verdict spend:
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Cou'd hur bring o're hur Habitation,
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hur Pig-stye, Barn, and hur dun Cow
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Hur here wou'd live so in the fashion,
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like any Shentleman I vow.
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By him there stood a Lass so pritty
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she was the Rarirty of all,
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Most wondrous handsom, fine and witty,
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she to the Welsh-man then did call:
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Sir, I perceive you're not so knowing,
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of this so sumptuous place, as I,
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Here are, kind sir, things worth the showing,
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if you'l accept my Courtesie.
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He's very glad of that kind proffer,
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and close unto her side did stick,
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He heard a pritty Story of her,
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of those that do Mens Pockets pick:
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Plutter-a-nails, hur give 'um no money,
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hur put a breakment on their Pate,
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Quod she, thou canst not know't, my honey
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be rul'd by me, they ne'r shall ha't.
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She told a Tale of Ships on th' Ocean,
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which the fine Welshman might behold
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Who now was quite at her Devotion,
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he gave her thirty pound in Gold,
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For to lay up till they returned,
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which she did never mean he should,
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She play'd a prank whereat he mourned,
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because he was so greatly Fool'd.
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For when they came 'board the Virginny
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a Ship most gay and fit for Trade,
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There she did sell the harmless Ninny,
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to make her Market (like a Jade:)
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They call'd for Punch and other Liquor
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which made the Welshman almost blind
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But to conclude, she was the quicker,
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and left the Welsh-man there behind.
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Pray good her Worship, take hur with hur
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the Captain said he was too bold,
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What, must hur go hur knows not whether
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and to be sheated of hur Gold?
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Let hur but send hur Gold unto hur,
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but he could then no favour find,
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What, does hur mean for to undo hur?
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'splut, by St. Taffie, 'twor unkind.
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God bless hur anshent Dad and Mother,
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for hur must go hur knows not where,
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Give sharge unto hur little Brother,
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lest he unto this place repair:
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God send hur ne'r may come to London,
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nor never have a minde to Range,
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For hur wor sure hur will be undon,
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if e're hur comes unto the Shange.
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