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 Father, who came with Dick and Henry, Will, Tom, Jack, Robin, honest Andre[w],
and Huffing Hugh, and all the rest of the Robustious Fellows, and Soundly beating the Cheat, they carryed him
away a Pick-Pack, 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 Printed, R.L.S.
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COme 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 musthie 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 an [?],
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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 they 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 still.
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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 unlucky 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 bobbing the Mil[?] [?]ghter got out,
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And straight to her father poor Juggy did run,
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And told him the misch[ief] [?]rber 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 [tr]ash 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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