Poor Tom the Taylor
His Lamentation.
Giving an Account how he pickt up a Miss near the Maypole in the Strand, and also how
he handed her to the Fair. where he treated her very generously, but according to
the old proverb, sweet meat must have sower sauce, for while he was safe a snoring
in Bed she very dexterously picked his pocket, leaving him to pay the Reckoning,
without ever a penny in his purse, This unfortunate disaster may well be a warning to
all the Taylors in or about London to forsake their old accustomed tricks, setting poor
Tom before them as an example. To the Tune of, Daniel Cooper.
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TOm the Taylor near the Strand,
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he met a pretty Creature.
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He kindly took her by the hand,
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and vowd that he would treat her,
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He was kind and gave her wine,
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a Glass of good Canary;
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She was fair as might compare,
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and Tom was brisk and airy.
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When Tommy he did court his miss,
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he called her his honey,
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But she would not admit a kiss,
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before she saw his money:
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But when she did behold his coyn,
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she was wel contented,
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Every penny shall be mine,
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thy Pockets shall be emptyed.
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She arrayd in Flowerd silks,
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and in costly Laces,
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With a skin as white as milk,
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these was sweet imbraces:
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She called him her only joy,
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and vowd shed ner deceive him,
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As long as he had ere a Groat,
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she would never leave him.
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Straight they were conveyd to bed,
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he fell soon a snoring,
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Then a trick came in her head,
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to fit him for his whoring:
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By slight of hand she pickt his Purse,
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and what did follow after,
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She left him all the shot to pay,
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like a cunning sharper.
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When the morning day appeard
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he had nev[e]r mist her,
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And rousing up he turnd about,
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hoping to have kist her:
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But when he found that she was gone,
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Oh how he then lamented,
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He cryed out he was undone,
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he found his pocket emptied.
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The Taylor he got out of Bed,
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he was sore discontented,
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He tore the hair from off his head,
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it seems he thus lamented:
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In that his rage he cursd the time,
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when that he first beheld her,
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For she had fund him of his Coin,
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Oh then he could have killd her.
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The Drawer he came up indeed,
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with this discourse insuing,
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Come pay me down my shot with speed,
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or it shall pr[o]ve your ruine:
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The Drawer with such kind of words,
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began for to afflict him,
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He calld him horeson Cuckolds bird,
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and down the Stairs he kickt him.
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The poor distressed Taylor lookt,
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as if he would have died,
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And then he fell upon his knees,
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and wrung his hands and cryed:
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But yet his tears would not prevail,
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they would not thus dismiss him,
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But they did ferret him about,
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that the Taylor he bepist him.
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The Taylor see himself beset,
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by those that stood about him,
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Which caused him to chafe and fret,
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to see how they did flout him:
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He striped off his Coat and Cloak,
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and they from him did take it,
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And then they turnd him out of doors
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a little more then Naked.
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You Taylors all that keeps a Miss,
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and deals so much in Courting,
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Theyl give to you a Judas kiss,
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if you delight in Sporting:
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You see poor Tommy of your trade,
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by Whoring was abused,
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Which made him make a solemn vow
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that he no more would use it.
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