Oxford-shire BETTY:
Containing her Joaking Letter to TOM the TAYLOR,
near Tower-Street; who she has fairly left in the Lurch, and married
with a Parson. Tune of, I love you more and more each day.
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POor Tom the Taylor don't lament,
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because I now am marry'd;
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To you this Letter I have sent,
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and tell you that I tarry'd,
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Too long for such a Knave as you,
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who has no Sence or Breeding:
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I pray look on this Line or two,
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this Line or two,
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you'll find it worth your reading.
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I have in order here set down,
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your wonderful Expences;
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Yet never let it crack your Crown,
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nor rob you of your sences:
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Do not like one distracted Muse,
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such Fools there are too many,
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Yet Sence and Wit you cannot loose,
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you cannot loose,
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because you ne'r had any.
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You courted me, I most confess,
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in famous London City;
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And when you made your first Address,
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it was exceeding Witty.
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I prithee Betty, what's a Clock?
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or some such fine Expression:
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This shew'd you had a swinging Stock,
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a swinging Stock
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of Wisdom and Discretion.
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I tell you Tom, I han't forgot,
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how you did vow you'd treat me;
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Yet I was forc'd to pay the Shot,
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when ever you did meet me:
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What May-pole Faces would you make,
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and sighing, cry, Dear Hony,
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Supply my wants for pitty sake,
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for pitty's sake,
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alass! I have no Mony.
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I'd strive to keep you from Disgrace,
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that you might not be slighted,
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When other Persons was in place,
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where we was both invited:
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I'd flip a Shilling in your hand,
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because of your Submission;
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For I full well did understand,
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did understand,
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a Taylor's poor Condition.
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When I to Oxford-shire did go,
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where Pleasures I am reaping;
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That news I would not let you know,
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for fear you wou'd fall a weeping:
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I did from London Town remove,
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according to Discretion,
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Because I knew I could not love,
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I could not love,
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a Man of your Profession.
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You are a pack of nasty Curs,
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in e'ry long Vacation,
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You feed so much on Cucumers,
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you'd poyson half the Nation:
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And Cabbidge all the Year beside,
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of which you are no Failer,
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What Woman can lye by the side?
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lye by the side,
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of a Mechanick Taylor.
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My Husband is a Clergy-man,
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of worthy Birth and Breeding;
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I wear my Topping, Lace, and Fan,
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and am on Daintys feeding:
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Thus do I lead a splended Life,
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continual Joys receiving;
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Then who would be a Taylor's Wife?
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a Taylor's Wife,
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whose Husbands live by Theiving.
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