Welcome the Quaker Bear chained and prancing
To its mistresses stick in May Day Green
Gone the freeman dancing to mughouse beat.
I remember Dick when you would ask sixpence
for my wares, now you walk the other way.
Your fine thigh no more suited to my sweatmeat.
More interest in a book than turning my pages.
You are old before your time, a wasted man.
In the mughouse you would sing to me:
My Friend thy Beauty seemeth good
We Righteous have our failings;
I’m Flesh and Blood, methinks I cou’ d,
Wert thou free from Ailings
And I would reply:
Believe me Sir I’m newly broach’ d,
And never have been in yet;
I vow and swear
I ne’er was touch’ d,
By man ’till this day and night.
And supping on your ale you’d sing:
Then prithee Friend, now prithee do,
Nay, let us not defer it;
And I’ll be kind to thee
when thou hast laid the Evil Spirit.
And sitting in your lap I would:
I vow I won’t, indeed I shan’t,
Unless I’ve Money first, Sir;
For if I ever trust a Saint,
I wish I may be curst, Sir.
And jangling your purse: