ONce more to these Arms my lov’d Pick-ax and Spade,
With the rest of the Tools that belong to my Trade;
I that Buried others am rose from the Dead,
With a Ring, a Ring, Ring, a Ring, and Dig a Dig, Dig.
My Thoughts are grown easie, my Mind is at rest,
Since Things at the worst are now grown to the best,
And I and the Worms that long fasted shall Feast,
With a Ring, &c.
How I long to be Measuring and cleaving the Ground,
And commending the Soil for the Sculls shall be found,
Whose thickness alone, not the Soil makes them sound,
With a Ring, &c.
Look you Masters, I’ll cry, may the Saints ne’er me save,
If this ben’t as well contriv’d sort of a Grave,
As a Man could wish on such occasion to have,
With a Ring, &c.
Observe but the make of’t, I’ll by you be try’d,
And the Coffin so fresh there that lies on that side,
It’s Fifty Years since he that owns it has dy’d.
With a Ring, &c.
I hope to remember your Friend in a Bowl,
An honest good Gentleman, God rest his Soul,
He has that for a Ducket is worth a Pistole,
With a Ring, &c.
At Marriages next I’ll affirm it and swear,
If the Bride would be private so great was my Care,
That not a Soul knew that the Priest joyn’d the Pair,
With a Ring, &c.
When I myself whisper’d and told it about
What Door they’d go in at, what Door they’d go out,
To receive the Salutes of the Rabble and Rout,
With a Ring, &c.
At Chris’nings I’ll sit with abundance of Joy,
And Drink to the Health of the Girl or the Boy,
At the same I wish that Fate both would destroy,
That I may Ring, &c.
What e’er’s my Religion, my Meaning’s to Thrive,
So the Child that is born, to the Font but survive,
No matter how short it’s continuance alive,
That I may Ring, &c.
Hear then my good Neighbours attend to my cry,
And bravely get Children, and decently die,
No Sexton now breathing shall use you as I,
With a Ring a Ring, Ring a Ring, Dig a Dig, Dig.
The Great BOOBEE.
[[Listen]]
MY Friend if you would understand,
My Fortunes what they are;
I once had Cattle House and Land,
But now I am never the near:
My Father left a good Estate,
As I may tell to thee;
I couzened was of all I had,
Like a great Boobee.
I went to School with a good intent,
And for to learn my Book;
And all the Day I went to play,
In it I never did look:
Full seven Years, or very nigh,
As I may tell to thee;
I could hardly say my Criss-Cross-Row,
Like a great Boobee.
My Father then in all the hast,
Did set me to the Plow;
And for to lash the Horse about,
Indeed I knew not how:
My Father took his Whip in Hand,
And soundly lashed me;
He called me Fool and Country Clown,
And a great Boobee.
But I did from my Father run,
For I would Plow no more;
Because he had so lashed me,
And made my sides so sore:
But I will go to London Town,
Some Fashions for to see;
When I came there they call’d me Clown,
And a great Boobee.
But as I went along the Street,
I carried my Hat in my Hand,
And to every one that I did meet,
I bravely Buss’d my Hand:
Some did laugh, and some did scoff,
And some did mock at me;
And some did say I was a Woodcock,
And a great Boobee.
Then I did walk in hast to Paul’s
The Steeple for to view;
Because I heard some People say,
It should be builded new;
Then I got up unto the Top,
The City for to see;
It was so high it made me cry,
Like a great Boobee.
From thence I went to Westminster,
And for to see the Tombs:
Oh, said I, what a House is here,
With an infinite sight of Rooms:
Sweetly the Abby Bells did Ring,
It was a fine sight to see;
Methought I was going to Heav’n in a String,
Like a great Boobee.
But as I went along the Street,
The most part of the Day;
Many Gallants I did meet,
Methought they were very gay:
I blew my Nose and pist my Hose,
Some People did me see:
They said I was a Beastly Fool:
And a great Boobee.
Next Day I thro’ Pye-corner past,
The Roast-meat on the Stall;
Invited me to take a Taste,
My Money was but small:
The Meat I pickt, the Cook me kickt,
As I may tell to thee;
He beat me sore and made me roar,
Like a great Boobee.
As I thro’ Smithfield lately walkt,
A gallant Lass I met:
Familiarly with me she talk’t,
Which I cannot forget:
She proferr’d me a Pint of Wine,
Methought she was wondrous free,
To the Tavern then I went with her,
Like a great Boobee.
She told me we were near of Kin,
And call’d for Wine good store;
Before the Reckoning was brought in,
My Cousin prov’d a Whore:
My Purse she pickt, and went away,
My Cousin couzened me,
The Vintner kickt me out of Door;
Like a great Boobee.
At the Exchange when I came there,
I saw most gallant things;
I thought the Pictures living were,
Of all our English Kings:
I doft my Hat and made a Leg,
And kneeled on my Knee;
The People laugh’d and call’d me Fool,
And a great Boobee.
To Paris-Garden then I went,
Where there is great resort;
My Pleasure was my Punishment,
I did not like the Sport:
The Garden-Bull with his stout Horns,
On high then tossed me;
I did bewray my self with fear,
Like a great Boobee.
The Bearward went to save me then,
The People flock’d about;
I told the Bear-Garden-Men,
My Guts they were almost out:
They said I stunk most grievously,
No Man would pity me;
They call’d me witless Fool and Ass,
And a great Boobee.
Then o’er the water I did pass,
As you shall understand;
I dropt into the Thames, alass,
Before I came to Land:
The Waterman did help me out,
And thus did say to me;
’Tis not thy fortune to be drown’d,
Like a great Boobee.
But I have learned so much Wit,
Shall shorten all my Cares;
If I can but a Licence get,
To play before the Bears:
’Twould be a gallant Place indeed,
As I may tell to thee:
Then who dares call me Fool or Ass,
Or great Boobee.