Oxford-shire BETTY: Containing her Joaking Letter to TOM the TAYLOR, near Tower-Street; who she has fairly left in the Lurch, and married with a Parson.
Tune of, I love you more and more each day.
[...]
POor Tom the Taylor don't lament,
because I now am marry'd;
To you this Letter I have sent,
and tell you that I tarry'd,
Too long for such a Knave as yon,
who has no Sence or Breeding:
I pray look on this Line or two,
this Line or two,
you'll find it worth your reading.
I have in order here set down,
your wonderful Expences;
Yet never let it crack your Crown,
nor rob you of your sences:
Do not like one distracted Muse,
such Fools there are too many,
Yet Sence and Wit you cannot loose,
you cannot loose,
because you ne'r had any.
You courted me, I most confess,
in famous London City;
And when you made your first Address,
it was exceeding Witty.
I prithee Betty, what's a Clock?
or some such fine Expression:
This shew'd you had a swinging Stock,
a swinging Stock
of Wisdom and Discretion.
I tell you Tom, I han't forgot,
how you did vow you'd treat me;
Yet I was forc'd to pay the Shot,
when ever you did meet me:
What May-pole Faces would you make,
and sighing, cry, Dear Hony,
Supply my wants for pitty sake,
for pitty's sake,
alass! I have no Mony.
I'd strive to keep you from Disgrace,
that you might not be slighted,
When other Persons was in place,
where we was both invited:
I'd slip a Shilling in your hand,
because of your Submission;
For I full well did understand,
did understand,
a Taylor's poor Condition.
When I to Oxford-shire did go,
where Pleasures I am reaping,
That news I would not let you know,
for fear you wou'd fall a weeping:
I did from London Town remove,
according to Discretion,
Because I knew I could not love,
I could not love,
a Man of your Profession.
You are a pack of nasty Curs,
in e'ry long Vacation,
You feed so much on Cucumers,
you'd poyson half the Nation:
And Gabbidge all the Year beside,
of which you are no Failer,
What Woman can lye by the side?
lye by the side,
of a Mechanick Taylor.
My Husband is a Clergy-man,
of worthy Birth and Breeding;
I wear my Topping, Lace, and Fan,
and am on Daintys feeding:
Thus do I lead a splended Life,
continual Joys receiving;
Then who would be a Taylor's Wife?
a Taylor's Wife,
whose Husbands live by Theiving.
Printed for C. Bates, next the Crown Tavern, in West Smithfield.