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Song XLVIII., pp.300-301.

[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. 

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