THE
Innocent Country Maids
Delight.
OR,
A Description of the Lives of the Lasses of LONDON.
At London they the wanton play,
as it is often seen,
Whilst we do go, all of a Row,
Unto the Meadows green.
Set to an Excellent Country Dance.
This may be Printed. R.P.
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SOme Lasses are nice and strange,
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That keep Shop in the Exchange,
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Sit pricking of Clouts,
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And giving of flouts,
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And seldom abroad do range:
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Then comes the Green Sickness,
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And changes their likeness,
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and all for want of Sale;
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But 'tis not so, with we that go,
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Through Frost and Snow, when Winds do blow,
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to carry the milking-Payl.
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Each Lass she will paint her Face,
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To seem with a comely grace,
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And pouder their Hair,
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To make them look fair,
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That Gallants may them embrace:
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But every Morning,
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Before their adorning,
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they're far unfit for Sale;
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But 'tis not so, with we that go,
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Through Frost and Snow, when Winds do blow,
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to carry the milking-Payl.
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The more to appear in Pride,
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They often in Coaches ride,
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Drest up in their Knots,
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Their Jewels and Spots,
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And twenty Knick-Knacks beside:
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Their Gallants Embrace 'em,
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At length they Disgrace 'em,
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and then they weep and wail;
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But 'tis not so, with we that go,
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Through Frost and Snow, when Winds do blow,
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to carry the milking-Payl.
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There's nothing they prize above,
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The delicate Charms of Love,
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They Kiss and they Court,
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They're right for the Sport,
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No way like the Turtle-Dove:
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For they are for any,
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Not one, but a many,
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at length they spoyl their Sale;
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But 'tis not so, etc.
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They feed upon Dainties fine,
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Their Liquor is curious Wine,
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If any will lend,
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They'l borrow and spend,
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And this is a perfect sign
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That they are for pleasure,
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Whilst wasting their Treasure,
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and then they may to Jayl;
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But 'tis not so, etc.
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They sit at their Windows all day,
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Drest up like your Ladies gay,
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They prattle and talk,
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But seldom they walk.
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Their Work is no more than play:
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They living so easy,
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Their Stomacks are squesie,
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they know not what they ail;
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But 'tis not so, etc.
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Whene're they have been too free,
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And happen with Child to be,
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The Doctor be sure,
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Is sent for to Cure,
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This two-legged Tympany:
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And thus the Physician,
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Must hide their Condition,
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for fear they spoyl their Sale,
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But 'tis not so, etc.
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There's Margery, Ciss, and Prue,
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Right Country Girls and true,
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Nay Bridget and Jone,
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Full well it is known,
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They'l dabble it in the Dew:
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They trip it together,
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And fear not the Weather,
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although both Rain and Hail:
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Full well you know, away we go,
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Through Frost and Snow, when Winds do blow,
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to carry the milking-Payl.
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