AN
Invitation to Lubberland,
With an Account of the great Plenty of that Fruitful Country.
There is all sorts of Fowl and Fish,
with Wine, and store of Brandy;
Ye have there what your hearts can wish,
the Hills are Sugar-Candy.
To the Tune of, Billy and Molly. Or, The Journey-man Shooemaker.
This may be Printed, R.P.
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THere is a Ship we understand,
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now riding in the River,
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'Tis newly come from Lubberland,
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the like I think was never:
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You that a Lazy life do love,
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i'de have you now go over,
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They say the Land is not above
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two thousand Leagues from Dover.
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The Captain and the Master too,
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does give us this Relation,
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And so does all the whole Ships crew,
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concerning this strange Nation,
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The streets are pav'd with Pudden-pies
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nay, Powder'd-Beef and Bacon,
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They say they scorn to tell you Lies,
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who thinks it is mistaken.
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The King of Knaves & Queen of Sluts
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reigns there in peace and quiet,
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You need not fear to starve your Guts,
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there is such store of Dyet:
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There may you live free from all care,
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like Hogs set up a fatting,
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The Garments which the people wear,
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is Silver, Silk, and Satten.
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The lofty Buildings of this place,
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for many years have lasted,
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With Nutmegs, pepper, Cloves & Mace
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the Walls are there rough-casted,
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In curious Hasty-Pudding boyl'd,
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and most ingenious Carving,
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Likewise they are with Pancakes Tyl'd
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sure, here's no fear of Starving.
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The Captain says in e'ry Town,
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hot Roasted-Pigs will meet ye,
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They in the streets run up and down,
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still crying out, Come eat me:
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Likewise he says at e'ry Feast,
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the very Fowls and Fishes,
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Nay, from the biggest to the least,
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comes tumbling to the Dishes.
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The Rivers run with Claret fine,
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the Brooks with rich Canary,
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The Ponds with other sorts of Wine,
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to make your hearts full merry:
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Nay, more then this, you may behold
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the Fountains flows with Brandy,
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The Rocks are right Refined Gold,
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the Hills are Sugar-Candy.
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Rose-water is the Rain they have,
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which comes in pleasant Showers,
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All places are adorned brave,
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with sweet and fragrant Flowers:
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Hot Custards grow on e'ry Tree,
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each Ditch affords rich Jellies,
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Now if you will be rul'd by me
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go there and fill your Bellies.
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There's nothing there but Holy-days,
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with Musick out of measure,
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Who can forbear to speak the praise
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of such a Land of pleasure?
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There may you lead a Lazy Life,
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free from all kind of Labour,
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And he that is without a Wife,
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may borrow of his Neighbour.
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There is no Law nor Lawyers Fees,
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all Men are free from Fury,
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For e'ry one does what he please,
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without a Judge or Jury:
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The Summer time is warm they say,
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the Winter's ne'r the Colder,
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They have no Landlords Rent to pay,
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each Man is a Free-holder.
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You that are free to cross the Seas,
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make no more Disputation,
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In Lubberland you'l live at Ease,
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with pleasant Recreation:
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The Captain waits but for a Gale
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of prosperous Wind and Weather,
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And then they soon will hoist up Sail,
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make haste away together.
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