The Sorrowful CITIZEN;
Or, The Couragious PLOW-MAN.
With the Witty Answer of a Country Damosel.
You Citizens I pray beware,
that does this Story hear;
Dote not too much on Beauty fair,
lest this may prove your share.
To the Tune of, The Country Farmer. This may be Printed, R.P.
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A Londoner into the Country went,
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To visit his Tennants, and gather in Rent;
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He on a brave Gelding did gallantly Ride,
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With Boots and with Spurs, and a Sword by his side
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Because that the Inn keepers they will not score,
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He lined his Pockets with Silver good store:
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And he wore a Wigg cost three Guinnies and more,
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His Hat was cockt up Sir, behind and before.
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Thus like a great Gallant that was Al-a-mode,
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Upon his stout Gelding he Gallopt the Rode,
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He came to an Inn Sir, where he did allight,
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Resolving to rest there, and tarry all Night:
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There was a fair Damsel her Name it was Priss,
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The Londoner proffer'd to give her a Kiss;
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and would fain have been doing the thing you may guess
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But she scornfully said she was no London Miss.
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With Eloquent Speeches this Gallant did Wooe.
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And proffer'd her Guinnies, but this would not do;
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I pray you be Civil, good Sir, she reply'd,
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And tempt me no more, for you must be deny'd:
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My Credit I tell you, I never will stain,
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And therefore good Sir, I would have you refrain,
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To proffer your Guinnies, for all is in vain,
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I slight them and you Sir, with scorn and disdain.
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Good Sir, what a rout and a racket you make,
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Would Robin the Plow-man was here for your sake;
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He will quickly make you to alter your Note,
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I would not be one that should be in your Coat;
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For all your brave alls, you are something too bold,
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My Chastity is not to be bought nor sold;
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I care not a fig for your Silver and Gold,
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I pray you be Civil and let go your hold.
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Why, do you imagine I will be afraid
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Of such a course Coxcombly Country Blade?
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For should he come in and give me a cross word,
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I'le make him to taste of a piece of my Sword:
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For I am a Person of Noble Degree,
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Then prithee sweet Damsel be ruled by me,
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He dare not come in if he chance but to see
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That I am a Kissing and Courting of thee.
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Cot-zo, quoth the Maiden, pray who have we here!
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Or what is the cause that he should stand in fear?
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Before that the Maiden could say any more,
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Stout Robin himself he came in at the Door;
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To him the whole Story she did declare,
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The Londoner being amazed, did stare;
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He would have been hid, but he could not tell where,
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For he was catcht napping as Moss catcht his Mare.
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The point of your Sword Sir, you said I should taste,
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But first let me tell you, your shoulders i'le baste;
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With that he lent him a sturdy stout stroke,
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His Sword and his Noddle together he broke;
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Tho' I go in Leather, and you wear fine Close,
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I will have my true-Love in spight of your Nose;
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And then he laid on, and redoubled his blows,
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Ten Guinnies to Robin the Plow-man he throws.
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Forbear honest Plow-man, for I do protest,
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Whatever I said then it was but in jest;
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Then prithee Good-fellow, let's finish this strife,
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And take up those Guinnies and pardon my life:
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The weight of your blows I do heartily rue,
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Then prithee sweet Maiden, see what you can do,
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Perswade him and here is five Guinnies for you,
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To buy you a Gown and a Petticoat too.
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She took up the Gold and put it in her Purse,
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And running to Robin, said she, it is thus,
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He crying for pitty, now lay no more an,
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But let it appear you're a Merciful Man:
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Said Robin, begone then, and come no more here,
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Away he packt off, thus the Coast he did clear,
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He sent him away with a Flea in his Ear,
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This Plow-man he lives but in Sommerset-shire.
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