[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]
Sung by Pinkanello, merry Andrew to Leverigo the Montebank Doctor.
–
HEre are people and sports,
Of all sizes and sorts,
Coach’d damsel and squire,
And mob in the mire,
Tarpaulins, Trugmallions,
Lords, ladies, sows babies,
And loobies in scores;
Some hawling, some bawling,
Some leering, some fleering,
Some loving, some shoving,
With legions of furbelow’d whores:
To the tavern some go,
And some to a show,
See popets for mopets,
Jack puddens for cuddens,
Rope dancing, mares prancing,
Boats flying, Quacks lying,
Pick pockets, pick plackets,
Beasts, Butchers and Beaux;
Fops prattling, dice rattling,
Rooks shaming, Putts daming,
Whores painted, Masks tainted
In taly-mans furbelow’d cloaths.
The mob’s Joys wou’d ye know,
To yon musick-house go,
See taylors and sailors,
Whores oily and doily,
Hear musick makes you sick;
Some skipping, some tripping,
Some smoaking, some joaking,
Like spiggit and tap;
Short measure, strange pleasure,
Thus billing and swilling,
Some yearly get fairly
For fairings, pig pork and a clap.
