Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
|
ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
Words |
Pages |
|
A66741
|
Wit and drollery joviall poems / corrected and much amended, with new additions, by Sir J.M. ... Sir W.D. ... and the most refined wits of the age.
|
Phillips, John, 1631-1706.; E. M.; J. M.
|
1661
(1661)
|
Wing W3132; ESTC R38723
|
98,574
|
304
|
his ears With an old pair of boots drawn on without hose Stuft full of old linnen rags and broken out at toes It was c. VVith an old pasport that never was read VVhich in his great old travels had stood him in good stead VVith an old Quean to lie by his side VVhich in her time had been oldly Frenchified It was the Queens c. VVith an old shirt that is grown to wrack That with long-wearing it serves stinking old Jack VVith an old grown lowse with a black-list on his back That was able to carry an old pedler and his pack It was the Queens c. VVith an old snap-sack made of a good calves skin VVith an old Leathern skrip tyed fast with an old cloak-bag string VVith an old Cap with a hole i' th' Crown One side pind up and the other hanging down It was c. VVith an old greasie bufft Jerkin pointed down before That his old great grandfather at the siege at Bullin had wore VVith an old pair of breeches with a patch upon each knee VVith two over-worn old pockets that will hold no money It was the Queens c. VVith an old horse late come from St. Albons VVith I know not how many diseases most grievous ones VVith an old pair of rusty Iron spurs VVith an old beat-begger in his hand to keep off the Curs It was c. This souldier would ride post to Bohemia to his foes And swore by his valour e're he came again would get better cloaths Or else he would lose both fingers hands and toes But when he takes this journey there 's no man living knows It was c. Another IN Lancashire where I was born And many a Cuckold bred I had not been marryed a quarter of a year But the hornes grew out of my head With hey the Io bent with hey the toe bent Sir Percy is under the Line God save the good Earl of Shrewsbury For he is a good friend of mine Doncaster Mayor he sits in a chair His mills they merrily go His nose doth shine with drinking of wine The Gout is in his great toe He that will fish for a Lancashire lasse At any time or tyde Must bait his hook with a good egge pie And an apple with a red-side He that gallops his horse on Bletstone edge By chance may catch a fall My Lord Mount Eagles Bears be dead His Jack-an-Apes and all At Scripton in Craven there 's never a haven Yet many a time foul weather He that will not lie a fair woman by I wish he were hang'd in leather My Lady hath lost her left leg hose So hath She done both her shoone Shee 'l earn her break-fast before she do rise Shee 'l lie in bed else till it be noon Ioan Moultons crosse it makes no force Though many a Cuckold go by Let many a man do all that he can Yet a Cuckold he shall die The good wife of the Swan hath a leg like a man Full well it becomes her hose She jets it apace with a very good grace But falleth back at the first close The Prior of Courtree made a great pudding-pie His Monkes cryed meat for a King If the Abbot of Chester do die before Easter Then Banbury Bells must Ring He that will a welch-man catch Must watch when the wind is in the South And put in a net a good piece of roast-cheese And hang it close to his mouth And Lancashire if thou be true As ever thou hast been Go sell thy old whittel and by thee a new fiddle And sing God save the Queen Towl the Bell. TOwl towl gentle Bell for a soul Killing care doth controul and my mind so oppress That I fear I shall die for a glance of that eye That so lately did fly like a Comet from the skie Or some great Deity But my wish is in vain I shall ne're see 't again When I in the Temple did spie This Divine Purity on her knees to her Saint Oh she look't so divine all her beauties did shine Far more fairer then her shrine faith I wish she had been mine Where my heart could resign And would powerfully prove no Religion like love Fair fair and as chast as the aire Holy Nuns breathing prayer was this Votress divine From each eye dropt a tear like the Pearles Violets were When the spring doth appear for to usher in the year But I dare safely swear Those teares trickle down for no sins of her own But now increaseth my woe I by no means must know where this beauty doth dwell All her rites being done to her Lady and her Son I was left all alone and my Saint was from me gone And to heaven she is flown Which makes me to say I shall scarce live a day Now I will make haste and die And ascend to the skie where I know shee 's inthron'd All ye Ladies adieu be your loves false or true I am going to view one that far transcends all you One that I never knew But must sigh out my breath for acquaintance in death The Answer to Towl RIng Ring merry Bells while we sing Drinking healths to our King And our minds are advanc't Le ts never fear to die till we have drunk out each eye But let cash and cares fly free as hail-stones from the skie Baccus great Deity Let us never wish in vain fill the pots George again When we in the Tavern do see Such fare boon Company On their knees drinking healths O we look most divine when our noses did shine Well ballast with good wine faith I wish the cup were mine VVhich to thee I 'le resign And will palpable prove by the drinking to thy Love Free free as the air let us be VVee 'l respect no degree But our births all a like From no eye drop a tear least you Maudlin appear And next morning do fear to be Physick't with small Beer VVhich I dare boldly swear If tears trickle down 't is our loves to the Crown Now we must make haste and see How much money will free All our hands from the bar For a time boyes adien I am going for to view VVhat belongs to all you be the reckoning false or true Though it be more then dew Yet my breath will I spend and my purse for my friend The jolly Shepherd THe life of a Shepherd is void of all care-a With his bag and his bottle he maketh good fare-a He rusâ—les he shusfles in all extreme wind-a His flocks sometimes before him and sometimes behind-a He hath the green medows to walk at his will-a With a pair of fine bag-pipes upon the green hill-a Trang-dille trang-dille trang down a down dilla With a pair of fine bag-pipes upon a green hill-a His sheep round about him do seed on the dale-a His bag full of cake-bread his boâ—tle of ale-a A cantle of cheese that is good and old-a Because that he walketh all day in the cold-a VVith his cloak