A dreadful Battle between a Taylor and a Louse,
OR,
A Tryal of skill to prove if we can,
A Taylor more than ninth part of a man.
The Tune is, I am the Duke of Norfolk.
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THere was upon a time
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A Taylor neat and fine
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caught a Louse on's shoulder bone,
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Ile make thee for to know
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Before that thou do go
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whether a Taylor be a man or none?
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He caught her by the back
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And made her bones crack
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and made her Nose for to bleed.
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But more that I can tel,
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I know it very well.
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He sow'd up her Arse with his thread
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The Louse began to roar
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And the Taylor out of door
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being put in a pittiful fear,
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He came again at last,
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When the danger it was past,
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and it wanted one month in a year
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A Nit did enterpose
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And took him by the Nose
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whilst the Louse did his courage re-gain
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He entered the List
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And he spit on his Fist
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and vowed to fight once again.
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But when the Taylor saw,
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The Louse would take the Law,
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he watched till the house was clear
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Whether snow, hail, or rain,
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He vow'd to fight again
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if he saw no witness was there.
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From his Shop-board he skipt,
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And his Doublet unstript
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but the Louse stood upon her guard
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Quoth he, I will not fail
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With the crak of my nail
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to press thee to death on this board
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The second part to the same tune.
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THen he caught up his shears,
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To have clipt off her ears,
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which made the Louse for to tremble
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But before he durst fight
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He said he must go sh---t.
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so armed himself in his Thimble.
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The Louse she being gray
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With age as some do say
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and having no weapon to fight
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She opened her mouth,
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From East, West, North and South
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And at the poor Taylor did bite.
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The Taylor with his Pike,
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Did thrust, prick, and strike
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and gave the Louse deep stitches
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But the Louse gave a tug
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That made the Taylor shrug,
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& wrong the in-seams of his britches
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The Taylor took his Yard
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The Louse she bit hard,
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which made his Goose take his part
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But the Louse forty strong
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Did do the Taylor wrong
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which grieved the Taylor at heart
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A Tinker coming by
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A Weaver did espie,
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and a Broom-man as he sat bousing
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Two Beggars they likewise,
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With two Gypsies did devise,
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to learn a new way of lousing
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The Louse she heard them come,
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And away began to run
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to a Soldate on a Bench sleeping
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But the Taylor like a Jack
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By the Tail pull'd her back,
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which made the poor Louse fall awee-ping.
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She bit, he scratch'd, and scrub'd
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And his Elbow he rub'd
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and the Louse did herself defend
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But the Taylor as't befell
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Flung the Louse into hell
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and so the fierce battle did end:
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Now if any one can
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Say a Taylor's not a man
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let him shew me the reason why?
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For the victory was wone
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By a Taylor all alone,
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then there's no better man then I
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