A Mad Crue; Or, That shall be tryde.
To the tune of, Pudding-Pye Doll.
VVAlking of late through London streets,
A crue of good-fellowes together méets,
Not one of them sober, if not belyde,
Well, quoth the Maultman, that shall be tryde.
From thence I trauel'd, to see a new Play,
Whereas an old Widdow in gallant array,
Sate pleasantly smirking, like a yong Bride,
Well, quoth the Fiddler, that shall be tryde,
Then to a Tobacco-house, smoking hote
Went I, and call'd for my Pipe and my Pot,
The Weed was strong, but hardly well dryde,
Well, quoth the Horse-courser, that shal be tryde.
The Market of Cheape, I faine would then see,
Where soo [...]e a fine Cut-purse vnmonyed me,
And ventur'd a ioynt, to Tybourne to ride,
Well, quoth the Hangman, now that shal be tryde.
I afterward went, and tooke vp mine Inne,
Whereas I found out, an Aunt of my kinne,
Who feared no lashing, though all were espyde,
Well, quoth the Beadle, now that shall be tryde.
I met with a Gallant, that sold all his Land,
And after tooke money vp, bound by Band,
Who when the day came, the paiment denyde,
well, qd. the Sergeant, now that shall be tryde.
I faine would then sée a close Bowling Alley,
Where to a fine Cheater, I payd for my folly,
His slights were so nimble, they could not be spide
Well, quoth Iustice too-good, that shall be tride.
Moore Fields being pleasant, the same I would sée,
where Maids of our City, stil whiting cloathes be,
For forty wéekes after, my loue I there tyde.
Well, quoth the Midwife, now that shal be tryde.
I went to Pye-Corner, to looke for my Dinner,
where dining with smoke, it made me look thinner,
The reckoning being call'd for, the same I denyde,
well, quoth the Cooke, now that shall be tryde.
And then in Smithfield I bought me a Nagge,
Where of all the foure, not halfe a good legge,
Being tyde to the Manger, he left me his Hyde,
Well, qd. the Beareward, now that shall be tryde.
A Sute of good Sattin I made me as then,
Where as fiue yards were stole out of ten,
And foure of the others at last were denyde.
Well, quoth the Broker, now that shall be tryde.
I met then a Collier, that sold me good Coales,
Where two, of foure Bushels, ran out at the holes,
Yet more then full measure, the Collier still cryde,
Well, quoth the Pillory, that shall be tryde.
The second Part. To the same tune.
GReat store of good liquor the Thames doth contain,
Whereof the old Maltman doth greatly cōplaine,
That in the hot Kettle, the Mault will not bide.
Well, quoth the Brewer, now that shall be tryde.
The Carrier that trauels by night very late,
When good Ale hath quelled the strength of his pate,
Without either money, or wit, he may ride,
well, quoth the Thiefe, now that shall be tryde.
A Wench of plaine dealing, makes vse of her owne,
The Beadles of Bridewell her shoulders haue known,
The rod of correction, she will not abide,
Well, quoth Meg merry-tricks, that shall be tryde.
The good man, that leadeth a cumbersome life,
Where no day he scapeth the fist of his Wife:
And being thus beaten, his neighbour must ride.
Well, quoth the Milke-wife, now that shall be tryde.
The Good wife, that wasteth her state vnto naught,
In gawdy apparell her husband hath bought,
May walke like a Peacock, her hands by her side,
Well, quoth the Cuckold, now that shall be tride.
He that his garments will pawne for good Ale▪
And at his poore Wife like a Drunkard will raile,
May dayly goe naked, without any pride,
Well, quoth the Begger, now that shall be tride.
She that a house and a charge will maintaine,
Yet will not for lazinesse take any paine,
May like a Sow fatten, that's filthily styde.
Well, quoth the Drunkard, now that shall be tryde
She that by scolding still payes all her debts,
To the ease of her belly, sore sicke of the frets,
May gallantly on the Cucking-stoole ride,
Well, quoth the Oyster-wench, that shall be tride.
He that each morning will call for his quart
At the Labour in Uaine, to comfort his heart,
May feare no ill sauours, that Night-men abide.
Well, quoth the Iakes-Farmer, that shall be tryde.
Now those that my Ditty will kindely regard,
A Pipe of Tobacco shall haue for reward,
With a Cup of Old Sherry, well suger'd beside,
Well, quoth the Ballad-singer, that shall be tride.
London printed for Iohn Trundle.