Newes from More-lane;
OR,
A mad knavish an uncivil Frolick of a Tapster dwelling there, who buying a fat Coult for eigh-
teen pnce, the Mare being dead, & he not knowing how to bring the Coult up by hand, killed
it and had it baked in a Pastie, and invited many of his Neighbours to the Feast; and telling of
them what it was; the Conceit thereof made them all Sick: as by this following Ditty you
shall hear.
The Tapster fild the Cup, up to the brim,
And all to make the little Coult to swim;
But all that heares it, sayes that for his gaine,
He is no better then a Wagg in graine.
The Tune is, A Health to the best of Men.
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THere is a Tapster in More-lane,
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that did a Pasty make,
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All People doe of him complaine,
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now for his grosse mistake,
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Hee instead of Venson fine
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a good fat Coult did kill,
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And put in store of Clarret Wine,
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his humour to fullfill.
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A peck of Flower at the least,
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with six pound of Butter.
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Hee made his Nighbours such a Feast,
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and bid them all to Supper:
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A curious fine fat Colt it was,
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and handled daintily:
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The Tapster provd himself an Asse.
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for this his knavery.
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Likewise there was a Baker too
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that lived in that place,
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And he was a pertaker too,
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I speak in his disgrace,
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For he found Flower to make it,
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I speak not in his praise,
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And afterwards did bake it,
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his knavery for to raise.
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Likewise there was a Car-man too,
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and he found Butter for it;
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But when the knavery Neighbors knew,
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they could not but abhor it:
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And then there was a Cooke Sir,
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at More-gate doth he dwell,
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And he then under tooke Sir;
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to make the Pasty well.
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Some say it eate as mellow then
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as any little Chick:
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But I tell thee good-fellow then,
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it made the Neighbuors sick:
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The Tapster had his humour,
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but the Neighbours had the worst,
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Yet I doe hear they had good Beere,
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and danty Pasty-crust
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Then every joviall Blade Sir,
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that lived in that place;
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They Money freely paid Sir,
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they scorned to be bace.
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They cald for Beere, likewise for Ale,
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because the Coult should swim,
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And of the Cup they would not faile.
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but fild it to the brim.
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The second part, to the same tune,
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THe Car-mans Wife cryd out and said
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troath tis good Meat indeed,
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So likewise said the chamber-Maid,
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when she on it did feed,
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The Tapster bid them welcome then,
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and Wea-hae did he cry,
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You are all welcome Gentlemen,
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your welcome hartily.
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The Glovers Wife was in a heat,
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and did both pout and mump,
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Because they would not let her eate
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the Buttock and the Rump.
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As for the merry Weavers Wife,
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I will give her, her due
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She spent her coyne to end the strife,
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among that joviall Crew.
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This Colt was not so wholsome though
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as was a good fat Hogg.
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Yet one came in and told the crew
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it was a mangie Dogg?
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But he that told them was too blame,
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and was but a silly Dolt.
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The Tapster bid him peace for shame,
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for twas a good fat Colt.
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The Colt he cost me eighteen pence,
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the Tapster he did say,
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I hope good Folks ere you goe hence,
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you for your meate will pay.
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Pox take you for a Roague quoth one,
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another he feld oaks,
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Another said he was undone?
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twas worse then Harry-choaks.
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The Porter he did give nine pence,
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to have it in a Pye.
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The People ere they went from thence,
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did feed most hartily.
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It was the joviall Baker,
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the knavish Tapster too,
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The Car-[ma]n was pertaker,
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was not this a Jovial Crew
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The Potecary he was there,
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Farr, and the Sexton too:
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The Tapster put them in great fear,
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He made them for to spue.
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Now was not this a Knave in grain
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to use his Neighbours so.
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When Knave are scarce, heel go for twan,
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good People what think you.
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The Tapster he came in at last,
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and gave the People vomits:
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I hope (quoth he) the worst is past,
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I have eased your foule Stomacks,
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Wea-hea, cryd the Tapster then,
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how doe you like my sport:
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The Women said, so did the Men,
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the Devill take you fort.
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At Brainford as I heard some say,
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a mangie Dog was eate:
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This was not halfe so bad as that,
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and yet the fault was great;
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Men of good fashon then was there,
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that went both fine and brave.
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Now all do say, that this doth heare,
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the Tapster is a Knave.
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