New Play-House-Song;
OF THE
HUSBANDMAN's DELIGHT:
SUITING THE
Humours of a Country Life
To a New Play-House-Tune.
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YOur Hay it is mow'd, and your Corn is reap'd,
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Your Barns will be full, and your Hovels heap'd:
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Come, my Boys, come;
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Come, my Boys, come;
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And merrily Roar out Harvest home;
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Harvest home,
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Harvest home;
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And merrily Roar out Harvest home;
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Come, my Boys, come, etc.
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Money is scarce, and our Corn it is cheap;
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The paying of Taxes few can escape.
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Live Content:
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Live Content:
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But how can a Farmer pay his Rent?
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Pay his Rent, etc.
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We ha' cheated the Parson, we'll cheat him agen;
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For why shou'd a Black-coat ha' One in Ten?
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One in Ten,
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One in Ten,
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For why shou'd a Black-coat ha' One in Ten?
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One in Ten,
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One in Ten?
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For why shou'd a Black-coat ha' One in Ten?
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For praiting so long like a Book-learn's Sot,
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Till Pudding and Dumplin burn to Pot;
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Burn to Pot,
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Burn to Pot;
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Till Pudding and Dumplin burn to Pot.
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Burn to Pot, etc.
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My Gammer says that shee'll quickly cry out
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And I must provide a Midwife and Clout;
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Shee'll ly in,
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Shee'll ly in;
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I'll kiss bonny Bess, with the white Skin;
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The white Skin, etc.
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Hang up Sorrow then, and cast away Care;
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Ne'er let an honest man drown in Dispair;
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What needs that?
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What needs that?
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Grief could never yet pay a man's Debt,
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A Man's Debt, etc.
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We'll toss off our Ale till we canno' stand,
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And Hoigh for the Honour of Old England;
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Old England,
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Old England;
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And Hoigh for the Honour of Old England,
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Old England, etc.
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FINIS.
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