BLANKET-FAIR,
OR THE
History of Temple Street.
Being a Relation of the merry Pranks plaid on the River
Thames during the great Frost.
To the Tune of Packington's Pound.
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1.
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COme listen a while (though the Weather be cold)
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In your Pockets & Plackets your Hands you may hold.
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I'll tell you a Story as true as 'tis rare,
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[Of] a River turn'd into a Bartholmew Fair.
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Since old Christmas last
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There has bin such a Frost,
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That the Thames has by half the whole Nation bin crost.
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O Scullers I pity your fate of Extreams,
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Each Land man is now become free of the Thames.
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2.
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'Tis some Lapland Acquaintance of Conjurer Oates,
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That has ty'd up your Hands & imprison'd your Boats.
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You know he was ever a friend to the Crew
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Of all that to Admiral James has bin true.
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Where Sculls once did Row
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Men walk to and fro,
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But e're four months are ended 'twill hardly be so.
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Should your hopes of a thaw by this weather be crost,
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Your Fortunes would soon be as hard as the Frost.
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3.
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In Roast Beef and Brandy much money is spent
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In Booths made of Blankets that pay no Ground-rent,
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With old fashion'd Chimneys the Rooms are secur'd,
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And the Houses from danger of Fire ensur'd.
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The chief place you meet
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Is call'd Temple Street,
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If you do not believe me, then you may go see't.
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From the Temple the Students do thither resort,
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Who were always great Patrons of Revels and sport.
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4.
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The Citizen comes with his Daughter or Wife,
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And swears he ne're saw such a sight in his life:
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The Prentices starv'd at home for want of Coals
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To catch them a heat do flock thither in shoals;
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While the Country Squire
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Does stand and admire
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At the wondrous conjunction of Water and Fire.
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Strait comes an arch Wag, a young Son of a Whore,
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And lays the Squires head where his heels were before.
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5.
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The Rotterdam Dutchman with fleet cutting Scates,
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To pleasure the crowd shews his tricks and his feats,
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Who like a Rope-dancer (for all his sharp Steels)
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His Brains and activity lie in his Heels.
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Here all things like fate
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Are in slippery state,
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From the Sole of the Foot to the Crown of the Pate.
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While the Rabble in Sledges run giddily round,
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And nought but a circle of folly is found.
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6.
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Here Damsels are handed like Nymphs in the Bath,
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By Gentlemen-Ushers with Legs like a Lath;
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They slide to a Tune, and cry give me your Hand,
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When the tottering Fops are scarce able to stand.
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Then with fear and with care
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They arrive at the Fair,
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Where Wenches fell Glasses and crakt Earthen ware;
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To shew that the World, and the pleasures it brings,
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Are made up of brittle and slippery things.
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7.
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A Spark of the Bar with his Cane and his Muff,
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One day went to treat his new rigg'd Kitchinstuff,
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Let slip from her Gallant, the gay Damsel try'd
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(As oft she had done in the Country) to slide,
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In the way lay a stump,
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That with a dam'd thump,
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She broke both her Shoostrings and crippl'd her Rump.
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The heat of her Buttocks made such a great thaw,
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She had like to have drowned the man of the Law.
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8.
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All you that are warm both in Body and Purse,
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I give you this warning for better or worse,
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Be not there in the Moonshine, pray take my advice,
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For slippery things have bin done on the Ice.
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Maids there have been said
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To lose Maiden-head,
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And Sparks from full Pockets gone empty to Bed.
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If their Brains and their Bodies had not bin too warm,
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'Tis forty to one they had come to less harm.
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