News from Hide-Park;
OR,
A very merry passage which hapned betwixt a North Country Gentleman, and a very Gaudy
Gallant Lady of pleasure, whom he took up in the Parke, & conducted her (in her own Coach)
home to her Lodgings, and what chanced there, if you[]ll venter Attention to the Song will
declare. To the Tune of, The Crost Couple.
|
ONe Evening a little before it was dark,
|
sing tan tara rara tan tivee,
|
I calld for my Gelding & rid to Hide parke,
|
on tan tara rara tan-tivee:
|
It was in the merry Month of May,
|
When Meadows &Fields were gaudy & gay,
|
And Flowers apparelld as bright as the day,
|
I got upon my tan-tivee.
|
The Park shone brighter than the Skyes,
|
sing tan tara rara tan-tivee:
|
With jewels and gold, and Ladies eyes,
|
that sparkled and cryd come see me:
|
Of all parts of England, Hide-park hath the name
|
For Coaches & Horses, and Persons of fame,
|
It looked at first sight, like a field full of flame,
|
Which made me ride up tan-tivee.
|
There hath not been seen such a sight since Adams
|
for Perriwig, Ribbon, and Feather,
|
Hide-park may be termd the Market of Madams
|
or Lady-Fair, chuse you whether:
|
their gowns were a yard too long for their legs,
|
They shewd like the Rian-bow cut in rags,
|
A Garden of Flowers, or a Navy of Flags,
|
when they did all mingle together.
|
Among all these Ladies I singled out one
|
to p[r]attle of love and folly;
|
I found her not coy, but jovial as Jone,
|
or Betty, or Margret, or Moly:
|
With hono[r]s & love, and stories of Chances,
|
My spirits did move & my blood she advances,
|
With twenty quonundrums, & fifty five fancies
|
Id have been at her tan-tivee.
|
We talkt away time until it g[r]ew dark,
|
the place did begin to grow privee;
|
For Gallants began to draw out of the Park:
|
their horses did gallop tan-tivee:
|
But finding my courage a little to come,
|
I sent my bay-Gelding away by my Groom,
|
And profferd my service to wait on her home,
|
In her coach we went both tan-tivee.
|
I Offerd & profferd, but found her straight lacd
|
she cryd, I shall never believe ye?
|
This armful of Sattin I bravely embracd,
|
and fain would have been at tan-tivee.
|
Her lodging was pleasant for scent & for sight,
|
She seemd like an Angel by Candle-light,
|
And like a bold Archer I aimd at the white,
|
tan-tivee, tan-tivee, tan-tivee.
|
With many denials she yielded at last,
|
her Chamber being wondrous privee,
|
That I all the night there might have my repast
|
to run at the Ring tan-tivee:
|
I put off my cloaths, and I tumbled to bed:
|
She went in her Closet to dress up her head,
|
But I peepd in the key-hole to see what she did,
|
which put me quite beside my tan-tivee.
|
She took of her head-tire, & shewd her bald pate,
|
her cunning did very much grieve me,
|
Thought I to my self, if it were not so late,
|
I would home to my lodgings, believe me.
|
Her hair being gone, she seemd like a Hagg.
|
Her bald-pate did look like an Estritches Egg,
|
This Lady (thought I) is as right as my legg,
|
she hath been too much at tan-tivee.
|
The more I did peep, the more I did spy,
|
which did unto amazement drive me:
|
She put up her finger and out dropt her eye;
|
I prayd that some power would relieve me,
|
But now my resolves was never to trouble her,
|
Or venture my Carkis with such a blind hobler,
|
She lookt with one eye just like Heuson the Cobler.
|
when he usd to ride tan-tivee.
|
I peept & was still more perplexed therewith,
|
thought I thot be midnight Ile leave thee,
|
She fetcht a yawn, and out fell her te[e]th,
|
this Queen had intents to deceive me:
|
She drew out her Handkercheif as I suppose,
|
To wipe her high forhead & oft dropt her nose,
|
Which made me run quickly and put on my hose
|
the Devil is in my tan-tivee.
|
She washt all the Paint from her visage & then
|
she lookt just (if you will believe me)
|
Like a Lancashire witch of fourscore and then;
|
and as the Devil did drive me,
|
I put on my cloaths & cryd witches & whores,
|
I tumbled down stairs, broke open the doors,
|
And down to my country again to my Boys,
|
Next morning I rid tan-tivee.
|
You North-country Gallants that live pleasant lives
|
let not curiosity drive ye,
|
To leave the fresh air, and your own Tennants wives
|
for Sattin will sadly deceive you;
|
For my part I will no more be such a Meacock,
|
To deal with the plums of a Hide-park P[e]acock,
|
But find out a russet coat wench, & a he[y]cock,
|
and there I will ride tan-tivee.
|
|
|
|
|
|