The jolting does please ’em,
Drive jollily then,
With a hey, &c.
The harder you’re driving,
The more ’tis reviving,
Nor fear we to tell,
For if the Coach tumble,
We’ll have a rare Jumble,
And then up tails all,
With a hey, &c.
The Crafty Cracks of East-Smith-Field, who pick’t up a Master Colour upon Tower-Hill, whom they Plundred of a Purse of Silver, with above Threescore Guineas.
[[Listen]]
YOU Master Colours pray draw near,
And listen to my Report;
My Grief is great, for lo of late,
Two Ladies I chanc’d to Court:
Who did meet me on Tower-Hill,
Their Beauties I did behold:
Those Crafty Jades have learnt their Trades,
And plunder’d me of my Gold.
I’ll tell you how it came to pass,
This sorrowful Story is thus:
Of Guineas bright a glorious Sight,
I had in a Cat-skin Purse:
The Value of near Fourscore Pounds,
As good as e’er I had told,
Those Crafty Jades have learnt their Trades,
And plunder’d me of my Gold.
I saw two poor distressed Men,
Who lay upon Tower-Hill,
To whom in brief I gave Relief,
According to my good Will:
Two wanton Misses drawing near,
My Guineas they did behold;
They laid a Plot by which they Got,
My Silver and yellow Gold.
They both address’d themselves to me,
And thus they was pleas’d to say;
Kind Sir, indeed, we stand in need,
Altho’ we are fine and gay:
Of some Relief which you may give,
I thought they were something bold;
The Plot was laid, I was betray’d,
And plunder’d of all my Gold.
Alas ’tis pity, then I cry’d,
Such Ladies of good Repute,
Should want Relief, therefore in brief,
I gave ’em a kind Salute:
Thought I of them I’ll have my Will,
Altho’ I am something old;
They were I see too wise for me,
They plunder’d me of my Gold.
Then to East-Smithfield was I led,
And there I was entertain’d:
With Kisses fine and Brandy Wine,
In Merriment we remain’d:
Methought it was the happiest Day,
That ever I did behold;
Sweet Meat alass! had sower Sauce,
They plunder’d me of my Gold.
Time after Time to pay their Shot,
My Guineas I would lug out;
Those Misses they wou’d make me stay,
And rally the other bout:
I took my Fill of Pleasures then
Altho’ I was something old;
Those Joys are past, they would not last,
I’m plunder’d of all my Gold.
As I was at the wanton Game,
My Pocket they fairly pick’d;
And all my Wealth they took by stealth,
Thus was a poor Colour trick’d:
Let me therefore a Warning be,
To Merchants both young and old;
For now of late hard was my Fate,
I’m plunder’d of all my Gold.
They got three Pounds in Silver bright,
And Guineas above Threescore,
Such sharping Cracks breaks Merchants Backs,
I’ll never come near them more:
Sure now I have enough of them,
My Sorrow cannot be told;
That crafty Crew makes me look Blew,
I’m plunder’d of all my Gold.