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EBBA 35341

Houghton Library - 25242.67
Ballad XSLT Template
A Pleasant New Song called
The Cony BARBER, Or,
A young Ladies Delight, how she trim'd her Maid, when she was on the Straw asleep.
To a pleasant new West-Country Tune.

YEa Females draw near, some news you shall hear
of a Lady that is very well known,
She is one of the name, that is right for the Game
but strangely preserved her own;
Though tender in years, as it plalnly appears
No fear could her Faculty awe,
For a Vow she hath made to be one of the Trade;
which hath made you laugh hah, hah hah, hah.

No thoughts could expire her earnest desire
a Cony Barber to be,
With Instruments neat, and all things compleat
in short provided had she,
Her Powder in Box for perfuming your Locks,
The best that ever you saw,
Her Raisor so kine if you had fisted between,
it would have made you laugh hah, hah, hah, hah.

And likewise her Yeuer, there is none can procure
in Fair or in City or in Town,
Her Washing-Ball sweet, if that you do meet,
the like if you please to lye down,
Her Sissers and Come, will be sure to reach home,
She scorns one hair for to draw,
Her Glass and her Hone, and her Musick at tone,
that hath made you laugh hah, hah, hah, hah.

She can paint, she can porl, crisp, powder and curl,
the French or the Spanish Cut.
Mischeators or Bear, or what you will wear,
each Hair in order shee'l put,
For brushing, for rubbing, for lathering for frubing,
Whether it be a Frost or a Thaw,
Her Water Pot, she keeps always hot,
for to make you laugh, hah, hah, hah, hah.

When Febus addrest, to view the North West
and Vesper had seal'd up the day,
She was not afraid to make use of her Trade.
in the place where she used to play,
Where she found out a Maid, whom herself had laid,
Who soundly slept on the Straw.
She gave her a trim, if you thither had bin,
it would have made you laugh, hah, hah, hah, hah.

She slumbred, she sleept, she sighed and weept,
strange Visions were inter inscar'd
She seemed to spy, one shaving so nigh,
who trimb of the Skin with the Beard,
And likewise she dreams, and also proclaims
Some Rook or else some Jack Daw
Was rid to the Fair, for to sell of that Hair
that hath made you laugh, hah, hah, hah, ha,

She was nimble and quick, though she hath gotten the Trick
yet she dares not her fingers to knock
Least she should affright, the Slumber in wait,
before she had ordered her Lock;
For betwixt the heaps, she opened the Lips
And found never a Tooth in the Jaw,
She tripped away without any pay,
that hath made you laugh, hah, hah, hah, hah.

With weeping cross, she lamented her Loss
till the Cony Barber she had found,
And by a great name, had gotten the Fame
throughout all the firsenty round,
They wrangled, they jangled, they strangely entangled
Like Cats they scratch and they claw,
It would a yield you delight, for to see such a fight.
and a made you laugh, hah, hah, hah, hah,

This Barber complains she so paid for her Pain
and the Boys cryes it for a may-game,
To her Mother she goes for to punish all those,
who dares to give her that Name,
Her Friends being wise, they thought to surprize
The business while it was raw,
To a Justice they giss, which was the way to suppress,
and to make you laugh, hah, hah, hah, hah,

Then a brave Troop of Horse, provided there was.
for to have the businesses well skand
You must think for a while, how his Worship did smile
when first took the business in hand;
He told the time, would extinguish the Crime,
And the Boys would forget what they saw,
Likewise time would repair, the loss of that Hair;
that hath made you laugh, hah, hah, hah, hah,

Then Mistress Tell-Truth would have taken her Oath,
that this Maid stole one grain of her Wheat,
And much to discover, to have her bound over,
the act was more heinous then great,
For his Worship knew well when Women Rebel
No Justice therefore could her awe
For he bid them deride on every side;
and burst out with a hah, hah, hah, hah.

This Maid still said, that she would be paid
for losing the crop of her Field,
The Fountain so near with a half yeare
a better Cut might yield,
For the Caves was so bare, that no action lay there
Nor any Commencement in Law,
For they rid out like Mome, and so they Rid home,
which hath made you laugh, hah, hah, hah, hah,


Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden-Ball in Pye Corner.

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