The Merchant's SON,
AND THE
BEGGAR-WENCH of HULL.
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YOU gallants all, I pray draw near,
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And you a pleasant jest shall hear;
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How a Beggar Wench of Hull,
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A Merchant's Son of Yoek did gull.
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Fa, la, etc.
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One morning on a certain day,
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He cloath'd himself in rich array;
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And took with him, as it was told,
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The sum of sixty pounds in gold.
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Fa, la, etc.
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So mounting on a prancing steed,
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He towards Hull did ride with speed,
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Where in his way he chanc'd to see
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A Beggar Wench of mean degree.
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She asked him for some relief.
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And said with tears of seeming grief,
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That she had neither house nor home,
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But for her living was forc'd to roam.
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He seemed to lament her case,
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And said, Thou hast a pretty face:
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If thou wilt lodge with me, he cry'd,
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With gold thou shalt be satisfy'd.
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Her silence seem'd to give consent,
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So to a little house they went;
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The landlord laugh'd to see him kiss
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The Beggar Wench, a ragged miss!
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He needs must have a supper drest,
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And call'd for liquor of the best;
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And there they toss'd off bumpers free,
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The jolly Beggar Wench and he.
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A dose she gave him, as 'tis thought,
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Which by the landlady was bought;
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For all the night he lay in bed,
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Secure as if he had been dead.
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Then did she put on all his cloaths,
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His coat, his breeches, and his hose;
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His hat, his perriwig, likewise,
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And seiz'd upon the golden prize.
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Her greesy petticoat and gown,
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In which she rambled up and down,
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She left the merchant's son in lieu
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Her bag of bread and bacon too.
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Down stairs like any spark she gows,
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Five guineas to the host she throws,
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And smiling then she went away,
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And ne'er was heard of to this day.
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When he had took his long repose,
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He look'd about, and miss'd his cloaths,
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And saw her rags lie in the room,
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How he did storm, nay fret, and fume.
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Yet wanting cloaths and friends in town[,]
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Her greasy petticoat and gown
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He did put on, and mounted strait,
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Bemoaning his unhappy fate.
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You would have laugh'd to see the dress
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Which he was in; yet ne'ertheless,
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He homewards rid, and often swore
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He'd never kiss a Beggar more.
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