The West-Country Frolick:
OR,
Buxome Kate's Merry Intreague.
SHEWING
How she serv'd ROBIN, the Faint-hearted Miller, who was afraid
to Encounter with her Maiden-head.
To the Tune of, Fond Boy, etc. Or, Love's a sweet passion, etc.
|
PRay did not you here of young frolicksome Kate?
|
How she served stout Robin the Miller of late;
|
When the cares of the World had incumber'd his crown,
|
She did first haul him up and then tumbl'd him down:
|
Now believe me, I think he was serv'd in his kind,
|
Since he would not endeavour to please a Maid's mind.
|
A twelvemonth he courted this beautiful Maid,
|
Yet unwilling to Marry, as being afraid
|
That his charge would come on, while Provision was dear,
|
Thus he often would wisper this word in her ear:
|
But the Damsel was Buxsom, and long'd to be wed,
|
Being clearly a weary of her Maiden-head.
|
He often would come to this Damsel at Night,
|
Where he'd call her his Jewel his Joy and Delight;
|
Or, perhaps a soft Kiss or a tender Embrace,
|
But yet nevertheless we might pity her case:
|
Kisses did no more kindness according to Law,
|
Then as if he had tickl'd her Tail with a Straw.
|
At length Kate begun for to think with herself,
|
He might happen to be some poor fumbling Elf,
|
That has no precious Nutmegs to please a young Bride,
|
And if so, I am utterly ruin'd she cry'd;
|
But I first mean to try him, and if bad's his Gear,
|
I'd not have him, if he had ten Thousand a Year.
|
Next Night when he came, she said, Robin my love,
|
Thou shalt go up with me to my Chamber above,
|
Where all Night in my Arms thou shalt lovingly lye:
|
Honest Robin, he made her this modest reply,
|
As we go up the stairs, if thy Mistress should hear,
|
I'm afraid it will bring a disgrace on my Dear.
|
Oh! never be daunted nor take any care,
|
On my back to my Chamber my Dearest I'll bear,
|
So as she shall not hear thee, but think it 'tis I;
|
To this pleasant new Project he strait did comply:
|
And immediately she took him then on her back,
|
Where he lay on her rump like a Pedler's pack.
|
She carry'd him up to her Chamber that Night,
|
Where she reckon'd to reap all the Joys of Delight;
|
But as soon as he came to the side of her Bed,
|
Oh! the Cares of the World strait run in his Head:
|
Kate, he cry'd, I'm afraid I shall get thee with Child,
|
Then the Cares of the World they would make me run Wild
|
Nay Robin, if you are Faint-hearted, said she,
|
I must tell you in short you are no Man for me;
|
I admire a Spark that no Colours will fear,
|
But I find you stand quaking and trembling here:
|
Strait she bid him be gon, aye, and gave him a frown.
|
But he cry'd, Prity Kate, How shall I get down.
|
Quoth she, if your fearful, I make no great doubt
|
But as I brought you in, I can carry you out;
|
She immediately took him once more on her back,
|
Aye, and through him down Stairs till she made his Bones crack:
|
[No]w the Lumbering frighted her Misteress so
|
That she cry'd out there's Thieves in the Kitching below.
|
Pray never be frighted, sweet Mistress, she said,
|
For as I am your honest and diligent Maid,
|
It was none but a lubberly bundle of Cares
|
Of a troublesome World, which I tumbl'd down Stairs:
|
Then the Miller she straitway did kick out of door,
|
And he ne'er had the Courage to come there no more.
|
|
|
|
|
|