THE COUNTRY GIRLs POLICY; OR, THE COCKNEY OUTWITTED.
|
ALL you that are to Mirth inclind,
|
Come tarry here a little while:
|
Pray read it once, and I do not fear,
|
But soon it will make you to smile.
|
The Londoners call us Country Fools,
|
And laugh at us every Day;
|
But Ill let them see before I have done,
|
We know as good Things as they.
|
A jolly young Girl in Hertfordshire,
|
Who had lately learnd to dance;
|
In less than the Space of one whole Year,
|
She light of a Child by Chance.
|
Being very poor, this cunning Whore,
|
Upon a certain Day,
|
Resolved was she the City to see,
|
So to London she took her Way.
|
With an old Straw Hat, and her Tail pinnd up,
|
And with Dirt instead of Fringe;
|
Not long ago this cunning Slut
|
Did come to the Royal Exchange,
|
With the Child in a Basket under her Arm,
|
Close covered, as it is said,
|
With a clean white Cloth, and at each End
|
Hung out a Gooses Head.
|
She saw two Stock Jobbers standing by,
|
She then unto one did say,
|
Gaffer, what stately Church is this?
|
Come tell me now I pray:
|
The other to her smiling said,
|
How like a Fool you talk!
|
This is no Church, it is the Change,
|
Where all the Merchants walk.
|
Is this the Change, good Sir? she said,
|
A glorious Place it be;
|
A finer Place in all my Life,
|
I never before did see:
|
Ill warrant you theres fine Chambers int,
|
As you and I do live;
|
Now if youll let me go and see,
|
A Penny to you I will give.
|
The one said, Your Basket I will hold,
|
And tarry here below,
|
Whilst my Consort goes up [wi]th you,
|
The Chambers for to shew:
|
She answered, I am afraid,
|
That when I do come down,
|
You will be gone, and I would not lose
|
My Basket for a Crown.
|
I am not such a Man he said,
|
And that Id have you know;
|
She gave it him, and with her Guide
|
She up the Stairs did go:
|
She viewd the Pictures very fine,
|
And did them much admire;
|
He soon droppd her, she down Stairs run,
|
And after him did enquire.
|
She straight runs up to a Merchant,
|
Good honest Man, said she,
|
Did not you see a thick tall Man
|
That had two Geese of me?
|
Alas! said he, poor Country Girl,
|
Our Cocknies are too quick;
|
Go home and tell your Country Girls,
|
Of this fine London Trick.
|
She stampd and cryd, Thus to be bit,
|
Would make a Body swear;
|
Never to come to the Royal Exchange,
|
Any more to to sell their Ware,
|
For by a Couple of cheating Knaves,
|
Alas! I am undone:
|
She gave a Stamp, and laughd aloud,
|
And then away she run.
|
But now we will to the Jobbers turn,
|
Who thought they had got a Prize;
|
They stept into an Ale-house,
|
And sent for both their Wives:
|
They told to them the Story,
|
With Hearts both merry and light;
|
Said they, We will have a Frolick ont,
|
And roast them both at Night.
|
The Women cryd, No, one at a Time,
|
And the farther they will go,
|
The other well have at another House,
|
And order the Matter so:
|
Thus they began to jangle,
|
And got on either Side:
|
But all this while the Basket stood,
|
Without ever a Knot untyd.
|
Then opening of the Basket,
|
As I the Truth unfold;
|
There did they find a curious Boy,
|
Just about five Weeks old.
|
The Women flew in a damnable Rage,
|
O how they did scold and curse:
|
Instead of a Cook, ye Rogue, said they,
|
You must run and call a Nurse.
|
The one said, This is your Bastard, Sirrah,
|
You have had by some common Whore;
|
If these be your Geese, ye Rogues, she said,
|
I never shall love Geese more:
|
The one she kickd the Bottle down,
|
The other whippd up the Glass,
|
And after she had drank the Beer,
|
She threw it and cut his Face.
|
There was Helter-skelter, the Devil to pay,
|
O how the Pots did fly!
|
Just as they were in the Midst of the Fray,
|
The Child began to cry:
|
There were Clouts and Blankets all beshit,
|
Such Sights are seldom seen:
|
I hope it will learn them both more Wit,
|
How they meddle with Geese again.
|
They put it out for three Shillings a Week,
|
Which is Eighteen-pence a-piece,
|
Which they pay every Saturday Night,
|
In Remembrance of the Geese.
|
Come, heres a Health to the Country Lass,
|
I think she was not to blame;
|
If she has but Wit to take Care of her T----t,
|
She may pass for a Maid again.
|
|
|
|
|
|