The Common Cries of London Town,
Some go up street, some go down.
With Turners Dish of Stuff, or a Gallymausery.
To the Tune of, Watton Towns End.
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MY Masters all attend you,
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if mirth you love to heare,
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And I will tell you what they cry
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in London all the yeare.
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Ile please you if I can,
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I will not be too long,
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I pray you all attend awhile,
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and listen to my song.
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The fish-wife first begins,
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nye Muskles lilly white,
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Herrings, Sprats, or Place,
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or Cockles for delight.
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Nye welflet Oysters,
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then she doth change her note,
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She had need to have her tongue be greas'd
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for she rattles in the throat.
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For why they are but Kentish
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to tell you out of doubt,
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Her measure is too little
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goe beat the bottom out:
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Half a peck for two pence,
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I doubt it is a bodge,
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Thus all the City over
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the people they do dodge.
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The wench that cries the Kitchin stuff
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I marvel what she ayle,
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She sings her note so merry,
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but she hath a draggle tayle:
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An empty Car came running
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and hit her on the bum,
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Down she threw her greasie tub,
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and away straight she did run:
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But she did give her blessing
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to some, but not to all,
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To bear a load to Tyburne:
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and there to let it fall.
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The Miller and his golden thumb
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and his durty neck,
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If that he grind but two bushels,
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he must needs steal a peck.
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The Weaver and the Taylor
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cozens they be sure,
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They cannot work but they must steal
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to keep their hands in ure.
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For it is a common Proverb
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thorowout all the town,
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The Taylor he must cut three sleeves
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to every womans Gown.
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Mark but the Waterman
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attending for his fare,
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Of hot and cold, of wet and dry
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he alwaies takes his share,
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He carrieth bonny Lasses
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over to the playes,
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And here and there he gets a bit,
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and that his stomack staies.
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There was a singing boy
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did ride to Rumford;
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When I go to my close stool,
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I will put him in a comfort:
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But what I leave behind
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shall be no private gain;
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But all is one, when I am gone,
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let him take it for his pain.
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Old shoes for new brooms
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the broom-man he doth sing,
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For hats or caps or buskins,
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or any old pouch ring.
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Buy a Mat a bed-Mat,
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a Hassock or a Pesse,
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A cover for a close stool
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a bigger or a lesse.
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Ripe Cherry ripe
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the Coster-mongers cries,
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Pippins fine or Pears
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another after hies.
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With basket on his head
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his living to advance,
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And in his purse a pair of Dice,
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for to play at Munchance.
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Hot pippin pies
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to sell unto my friends,
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Or pudding pies in pans,
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well stuft with candles ends.
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Will you buy any Milk,
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I heard a wench that cries,
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With a pale of fresh Cheese and cream,
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another after hies.
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Oh the wench went neatly,
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me thought it did me good,
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To see her cherry cheeks
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so dimpled ore with bloud;
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Her wastcoat washed white
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as any lilly flowre,
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Would I had time to talk with her
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the space of half an hour.
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Buy blaok, saith the blacking man
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the best that ere was seen;
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Tis good for poor men Citizens,
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to make their shooes to shine.
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Oh tis a rare commodity,
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it must not be forgot;
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It wil make them to glister gallantly
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and quickly make them rot.
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The world is full of thred-bare poets
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that live upon their pen;
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But they will write too eloquent,
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they are such witty men.
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But the Tinker with his budget
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the beggar with his wallet,
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And Turner's turnd a gallant man
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at making of a Ballet.
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The Second Part. To the same Tune.
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THat's the fat foole of the Curtin,
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and the lean fool of the Bull:
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Since Shanke did leave to sing his rimes,
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he is counted but a gull.
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The Players on the Banckeside,
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the round Globe and the Swan,
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Will teach you idle tricks of love:
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but the Bull will play the man.
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But what do I stand tattling
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of such idle toyes?
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I had better go to Smith-field
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to play among the boyes.
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But you cheating and deceiving lads,
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with your base artillery,
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I would wish you shun Newgate,
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and withall the Pillory.
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And some there be in patcht gownes,
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I know not what they be,
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That pinch the Country-men
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with nimming of a fee:
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For where they get a booty
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they'le make him pay so dear,
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They'le entertain more in a day,
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then he shall in a year.
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Which makes them trim up houses
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made of brick and stone:
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And poor men go a begging,
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when house and land is gone.
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Some there be with both hands
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will swear they will not dally,
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Till they have turn'd all upside down
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as many use to sally.
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You Pedlers give good measure,
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when as your wares you sell,
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tho' your yard be short, your thum will slip,
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your tricks I know full well.
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And you that sell your wares by waight
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and live upon the trade,
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Some beams be false, some waits too light:
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such tricks there have been plaid.
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But small Coals, or great Coals,
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I have them on my back,
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The goose lies in the bottom,
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you may hear the Duck cry quack,
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Thus grim the black Collier,
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whose living is so loose,
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As he doth walk the commons ore,
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sometimes he steals a Goose.
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Thou Usurer, with thy money bags
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that livest so at ease
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By gaping after gold, thou dost
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thy mighty God displease,
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And for thy greedy usury,
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and thy great extortion,
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Except thou dost repent thy sins,
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hellfire will be thy portion.
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For first I came to Houns-ditch
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then round about I crept,
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Where cruelty was crowned chief,
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and pity fast asleep:
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Where Usury gets profit,
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and brokers bear the bell.
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Oh fie upon this deadly sin,
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it sinks the soul to hell.
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The man that sweeps the chimnyes
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with the bush of thorns,
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And on his neck a trusse of poles
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tipped all with horns:
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With care he is not cumbred,
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he liveth not in dread;
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For though he wear them on his pole
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some wear them on their head.
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The Landlord with his racking rents
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turn poor men out of dore,
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Their children go a begging,
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where they have spent their store.
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I hope none is offended
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with that which is endited;
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If any be, let him go home,
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and take a pen and write it.
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Buy a trap a Mouse trap,
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a torment for the fleas:
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The Hang-man works but half that day
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he lives too much at ease.
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Come let us leave this boyes play,
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and idle prittle prat,
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And let us go to nine holes,
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to spurn-point or to cat.
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Oh you nimble fingered lads
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that live upon your wits,
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Take heed of Tyburn Ague,
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for they be dangerous fits:
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For many a proper man
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for to supply his lack,
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Loth leap a leap at Tyburn,
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which makes his neck to crack.
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And to him that writ this song
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I give this simple lot:
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Let everyone be ready
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to give him half a pot.
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And thus I do conclude,
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wishing both health and peace
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To those that are laid in their bed,
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and cannot sleep for fleas.
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