A New BALLAD
Of an Amorous Coachman,
Who was so difficult in pleasing his Love-sick Fancy; that after his several Ad-
dresses to the Female Sex, he was at last Married: which made him cry out,
Alass! My Humour is so hard to please,
That I find Love, not Love, but a Disease;
Yes a Disease that rages in my Heart,
And wounds my Amorous Soul in ev'ry part:
I love and loath and both within an hour,
So soon my Loathing Loving do's devour.
This may be Printed, R. P.
To the Tune of, There was a brisk Lass.
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I Went to the Fair to pick out a Wife,
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That might be a comfort to my sweet Life:
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On pretty black Nanny I cast a Sheeps eye,
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And told her for Love, I believ'd I shou'd dye;
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I kist her a little and thought that her breath
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Had poisoned me so that I looked for Death,
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She stunk as she stood, like Carrion I'le swear
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So I found that I'de got the wrong Sow by the Ear.
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To Jenney they wisht me, indeed she was fair
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But a pox on her Carrots, I lik'd not red hair,
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Her skin I did love, but her hair I did hate,
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I ne'r in my Life could love Carrot-pate:
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She told me of combs to alter the hue
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But I'faith I thought they were like True blew;
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And therefore in hast I had her adieu,
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And nimbly I tript to wanton Sue.
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Kind Sue quoth I, I'me come to Wooe,
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Love perches methinks upon thy brow,
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In troth cry'd she, if thou meanest to be mine
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A pair of good Horns shall perch on thine
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This nettl'd me so that I ran away,
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True words spoke in jest we often do say:
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With head and with heart both brimful of pain
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Away I did scamper to Mrs. Jane.
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She seem'd very coy, it pleas'd me the more,
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I lik'd her much better than all before;
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In the Room was a bed to work we went
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And hardly ten minutes of time was spent,
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Before I perceiv'd her Jewel was lost,
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And thus my fond hopes and purpose was crost:
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I thought it high-time, the Coach-man was fled
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Perceiving the want of her Maidenhead.
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The Second Part, to the same Tune.
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Then Mary and I walkt out to take Air,
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She had a fine skin and delicate hair,
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I thought me self blest by the Pow'rs above,
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For troth I was smitten and much in Love:
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But she was cross and as peevish as a Whore,
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As any old Jade can be at therefore;
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She thwarted me still in whatever I said,
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And then I drove on to a nasty Jade.
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Her name was Rebecca, in holy-day Clothes
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She was smug and far sweeter than Munday-Rose
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When they were lock'd up she look'd as black
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As the Mourning Suit on my Masters back;
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I fancy the Sow and Pigs she trac'd,
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For up to the knee her coat was lac'd,
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Her Smock was as black as the Hood she wore,
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I had her be gone for a nasty whore.
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To Deborah then in hast I ran,
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Her skin was as smooth as Feathers of Swan,
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I told her I lov'd her, and canted with Zeal
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And try'd by Religion her Pulse to feel:
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But say what I would, she answer'd me nay,
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Thought I, I shall not be marry'd to day:
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She sigh'd and she whin'd when I askt her to marry
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She often would cry, good Coachman tarry.
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Then I sneakt off, and to Dolly I went,
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In whom I expected to find content:
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But Dolly was damnable proud and high
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To the Coach-box before me, she needs would fly;
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I took up my Whip and I gave her a lick
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She said she abhorr'd me for that trick:
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And now the poor Coachman must lye all alone,
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For he's envy'd by some, and pittied by none.
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But stay, last of all his Fortunes to mend,
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To Dorcas the Coach-man was wish'd by a Friend
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Who said she would make him amends for the loss
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Of all his old Sweethearts, for she was not cross;
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So the Coachman was married he thought to content,
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But he ever since do's live to repent,
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His Wife had some faults which I'le tell you in brief
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She was a Pick-pockit, a Whore & a Thief.
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