The Country Miss new come in Fashion; Or, A farewel to the Pockifi'd Town Miss.

A Country Girl in a Paragon Gown,
That never yet knew the tricks of the town;
Did lately delude a taring Gallant,
Who just such an Innocent Virgin did want,
And since he's enjoy'd her I heard him protest
That of all other Misses she pleased him best.
To an excellent new Play-house Tune, Called, The Mock-Tune to the French Ranth. With Allowance.
[lady with a flower]

GIve me the Lass that's true Country bred,
With paragon gown, straw Hat on her head;
Feeding upon good Bacon and Beans,
But never knew what jilting means.
What though her skin be twany and course,
Flocks she lyes on, she'l kiss ne'r the worse;
Clap she ne'r had like Miss of the Town,
Tha [...]'s painted and patcht, and lyes up and down
What though her speech be simple and plain,
She knows not what flattering complements mean;
If bawdy you speak, she blushes and smiles,
Such innocent charms stead of beauty beguiles.
Free from distempers in every part.
Where ever she likes she loves from her heart,
She's not for a minute like those of the Trade,
For pleasing enjoyment for ever she's made,
She has not the trick of forcing delight,
But acts with like pleasures each day & each night
Each moment she's dying, so hot is her fire,
And never does kiss but with perfect desire.
So sound is her Nature, she's alwaies in health.
Her kisses are sweet which she gives me by stealth
When e're I am dull, and sit sighing alone.
She I sing me a song of young Tommy and Jone,


The hair of her head is as black as a Crow,
She's very well shap'd, not too high nor too low;
All parts are inviting in e'ry degree.
Especially those we are forbidden to see.
My Nanny and I (for that is her name)
So equally manage now each others flame.
That neither's deceiv d nor can ever be cloyd,
But both a like brisk after pleasure's enjoy'd.
Our Misses o'th Town act contrary-wise,
They ne'r take delight but in hopes of a prize;
Their desire is pall'd before they begin.
Because they each day make a Trade of their Sin.
Their blood is corrupted, their bodies are fowl,
They swear loud enough to damn body and soul;
They clap all their Cullies, and their pockets pick.
And send the young fop home for a while to be sick
With a doze of rare Pills & some other fine slaps
They keep 'em selves under the notion of Claps,
VVhich else would arrive to the bridge of the nose,
But that they prevent by a surpentine doze.
My Nanny and I are free from disease,
VVe ne'r are in danger let's do what we please:
VVe hugg and we kiss, we sport and we play,
And for pleasures we study to find a new way.
VVhat though her country Tones does seem rude
And cannot with eloquence others delude
'Tis no matter for that, she has won my heart so,
I shall love her for ever for a trick that I know.
Beyond all expressing she sweetens our joys.
And doubtless the's full of fine Girls and fine boys
She's kind and she's true, & so constant does prove
She ne'r will admit any Rival in Love.
The Butter flye M [...]ss may scoff if she will.
And swear that my Country Nanny wants skill:
To sport and to kiss, but i'le vow she's deceiv'd.
She has judgement enough if I may be believ'd,
Such harmless embraces would ravish ones soul,
Though old age and envy stand by to controul.
Her kisses a man almost dead will revive,
No better are had from no woman alive.
All that I have said of my Nanny is true
And more she deserves if I gave her her due,
But this shall suffice, and my labour i [...]e save
Lest you all fall a longing for what you can't have

London Printed for W. Thackeray, T. Passenger, and W. Whitwood.

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