or
A mad, knavish, and uncivil Frolick of a Tapster dwelling there, who
buying a fat Coult for Eighteen pence, the Mare being dead and he not
knowing how to bring the Coult up by hand, killed it, and had it
baked in a Pastie, and invited many of his Neighbours to the Feast and
telling of them what it was: the Conceit thereof made them all Sick,
as by the following ditty you shall hear.
The Tapster fil'd the Cup up to the brim,
And all to make the little Coult to swim;
But all that heares it sayes that for his gaine,
He is no better than a Wagg in graine.
The Tune is, _A Health to the best of Men_.
There is a Tapster in _More lane_ [68.]
that did a Pasty make,
All People doe of him complaine,
now for his grosse mistake:
Hee instead of Venson fine
a good fat Coult did kill,
And put in store of Clarret Wine,
his humour to fullfill.
A Peck of Flower at the least,
with six pound of Butter,
Hee made his Nighbours such a Feast
and bid them all to supper:
A curious fine fat Colt it was,
and handled daintily:
The Tapster prov'd himself an Asse,
for this his knavery.
Likewise there was a Baker too,
that lived in that place,
And he was a pertaker too,
I speak in his disgrace:
For he found Flower to make it,
I speak not in his praise,
And afterwards did bake it,
his knavery for to raise.
[Illustration]
Likewise there was a Carman too
and he found Butter for it,
But when the Knavery Neighbours knew
they could not but abhor it;
And then there was a Cooke, Sir,
at _More gate_ doth he dwell,
And he then under tooke, Sir,
to make the Pasty well.
Some say it eate as mellow then
as any little chick,
But I tell thee, good-fellow; then
it made the Neighbours sick:
The Tapster had his humour,
but the Neighbours had the worst,
Yet I doe hear they had good Beere
and dainty Pastry crust.
Then every joviall Blade, Sir,
that lived in that place,
Their Money freely paid, Sir,
they scorned to be bace:
They cal'd for Beere, likewise for Ale
because the Coult should swim,
And of the Cup they would not faile,
but fil'd it to the brim.
The Car-mans Wife cry'd out and said
troath 'tis good Meat indeed,
So likewise said the Chamber-maid,
when she on it did feed.
The Tapster bid them welcome then,
and Wea-Hae did he cry
You are all welcome, Gentlemen,
you'r welcome hartily.
The Glover's Wife was in a heat,
and did both pout and mump,
Because they would not let her eat
the Buttock and the Rump.
As for the merry Weaver's Wife,
I will give her her due,
She spent her Coyne to end the strife
among that joviall Crew.
This Colt was not so wholsome though
as was a good fat Hogg,
Yet one came in and told the crew
it was a mangie Dogg!
But he that told them was to blame,
and was but a silly Dolt,
The Tapster bid him peace for Shame
for 'twas a good fat Colt.
The Colt he cost me eighteen pence,
the Tapster he did say,
I hope good Folks 'ere you goe hence,
you for your Meate will pay.
Pox take you for a Rogue quoth one,
another, he fel'd oaks,
Another said he was undone!
'twas worse than Harty Choaks.
The Porter he did give nine pence
to have it in a Pye,
The People ere they went from thence
did feed most hartily:
It was the joviall Baker,
and knavish Tapster too,
The Car-man was pertaker
was not this a Joviall crew.
The Potecary he was there,
_Farr_ and the Sexton too,
The Tapster put them in great fear,
he made them for to spue.
Now was not this a knave ingrain,
to use his Neighbours so,
When knaves are scarce, hee'l go for twain,
good People, what think you.
The Tapster he came in at last,
and gave the People vomits,
I hope, (quoth he,) the worst is past,
I have eased your foule Stomacks;
Wea-hea cry'd the Tapster then,
how doe you like my sport,
The Women said, so did the Men,
the Devill take you for't.
At _Brainford_ as I heard some say
a mangie Dog was eate:
This was not halfe so bad as that,
and yet the fault was great:
Men of good fashon then was there
that went both fine and brave
Now all do say, that this doth heare,
the Tapster is a knave.