Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge Melancholy Volume VI Part 33

_The travelling_ TINKER, _and the Country_ ALE-WIFE: _Or, the lucky Mending of the leaky_ COPPER.

[Music]

A Comely Dame of _Islington_, Had got a leaky Copper; The Hole that let the Liquor run, Was wanting of a Stopper: A Jolly _Tinker_ undertook, And promised her most fairly; With a thump thump thump, and knick knack knock, To do her Business rarely.

He turn'd the Vessel to the Ground, Says he a good old Copper; But well may't Leak, for I have found A Hole in't that's a whopper: But never doubt a _Tinkers_ stroke, Altho' he's black and surly, With a thump thump thump, _&c._ He'll do your Business purely.

The Man of Mettle open'd wide, His Budget's mouth to please her, Says he this Tool we oft employ'd, About such Jobbs as these are: With that the Jolly _Tinker_ took, A Stroke or two most kindly; With a thump thump thump, _&c._ He did her Business finely.

As soon as Crock had done the Feat, He cry'd 'tis very hot ho; This thrifty Labour makes me Sweat, Here, gi's a cooling Pot ho: Says she bestow the other Stroke, Before you take your Farewel; With a thump thump thump, _&c._ And you may drink a Barrel.

_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ JOHN ABELL.

I'll press, I'll bless thee Charming fair, Thou Darling of my Heart; I'll press, I'll bless thee Charming fair, Thou darling of my Heart: I'll clasp, I'll grasp thee close my Dear, And Doat on every Part.

I'll clasp, I'll grasp thee close my Dear, And Doat on every Part!

I'll bless thee now thou Darling, Thou Darling of my Heart; I'll bless thee now, _&c._

With fond excess of Pleasure, I'll make the Panting cry, Panting cry; Then wisely use your Treasure, Then wisely use your Treasure, Refusing, still comply.

_A_ SONG.

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What shall I do, I've lost my Heart, 'Tis gone, 'tis gone I know not whither; Love cut its strings, Then lent it Wings And both are flown together: Fair Ladies tell for Love's sweet sake, Did any of you find it?

Come, come it lies, In your Lips or Eyes, Tho' you'll not please to mind it.

But if't be lost, Then farewel Frost, I will enquire no more; For Ladies they Steal Hearts away, But only to restore: _For Ladies they_, &c.

Tune, _si votr' epousa_.

_Chloris_ can you Forgive the fault that I have done; _Chloris_ can you Forgive me when I sue, Faith it is true, That had you let me farther gone, I had ruin'd you, And mischiev'd my self too: Yet I ne'er should Have ventur'd on a Maid so Chast, Had not your Eye, Shot thro' my Soul, And conjur'd all the Sense away, That there did lye.

_Lumps of_ PUDDING.

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When I was in the low Country, When I was in the low Country; What slices of Pudding and pieces of Bread, My Mother gave me when I was in need.

My Mother she killed a good fat Hog, She made such Puddings would choak a Dog; And I shall ne'er forget 'till I dee, What lumps of Pudding my Mother gave me.

She hung them up upon a Pin, The Fat run out and the Maggots crept in; If you won't believe me you may go and see, What lumps, _&c._

And every Day my Mother would cry, Come stuff your Belly Girl until you die; 'Twou'd make you to laugh if you were to see, What lumps, _&c._

I no sooner at Night was got into Bed, But she all in kindness would come with speed; She gave me such parcels I thought I should dee, With eating of Pudding, _&c._

At last I Rambled abroad and then, I met in my Frolick an honest Man; Quoth he my dear _Philli_ I'll give unto thee, Such Pudding you never did see.

Said I honest Man, I thank thee most kind, And as he told me indeed I did find; He gave me a lump which did so agree, One bit was worth all my Mother gave me.

_The_ QUAKER's SONG.

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Walk up to Virtue Strait, And from all Vice retire; Turn not on this Hand nor on that, To compa.s.s thy Desire.

Side not with wicked ones, Nor such as are Prophane; But side with good and goodly ones, That come from _Amsterdam_.

Arm not thy self with Pride, That's not the way to Bliss; But Arm thy self with holy Zeal, And take this loving Kiss.

_A_ SONG.

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_Lorenzo_ you amuse the Town, And with your Charms undo, Sir; _Laurinda_ can resist a Frown, But must not be from you, Sir: You make them all resign their Hearts, And fix their Eyes a gazing; The _Porcupine_ has not more Darts, From every part amazing.

You Bill and Cooe when you are kind, And happy's the Nymph believes you; You are true, but you are not Blind, For never a Nymph deceives you; Tho' she were naught, you'll ne'er be caught, But still have your Wits about you; You're a Hero, and you have Fought, There's ne'er a Hector can flout you.

You are good, and you are bad, And you can be what you please, Sir; You are an honest trusty Lad, And I'll Wager ne'er had the Disease, Sir: Then here's to you, a Gla.s.s or two, For farther I dare not venture; And then my Dear I bid thee adieu, For I must be now a Dissenter.