_Young_ STREPHON _and_ PHILLIS.

[Music]

Young _Strephon_ and _Phillis_, They sat on a Hill; But the Shepherd was wanton, And wou'd not sit still: His Head on her Bosom, And Arms round her Wast; He hugg'd her, and kiss'd her, And clasp'd her so fast: 'Till playing and jumbling, At last they fell tumbling; And down they got 'em, But oh! they fell soft on the Gra.s.s at the Bottom.

As the Shepherdess tumbled, The rude Wind got in, And blew up her Cloaths, And her Smock to her Chin: The Shepherd he saw The bright _Venus_, he swore, For he knew her own Dove, By the Feathers she wore: 'Till furious Love sallying, At last he fell dallying, And down, down he got him, But oh! oh how sweet, and how soft at the Bottom.

The Shepherdess blushing, To think what she'd done; Away from the Shepherd, She fain wou'd have run: Which _Strephon_ perceiving, The wand'rer did seize; And cry'd do be angry, Fair Nymph if you please: 'Tis too late to be cruel, Thy Frowns my dear Jewel, Now no more Stings have got 'em, For oh! Thou'rt all kind, and all soft at the Bottom.

_The Yielding_ La.s.s.

[Music]

There's none so Pretty, As my sweet _Betty_, She bears away the Bell; For sweetness and neatness, And all Compleatness, All other Girls doth excell.

Whenever we meet, She'll lovingly greet, Me still, with a how d'ye do; Well I thank you, quoth I, Then she will reply, So am I Sir, the better for you.

Then I ask'd her how, She told me, not now, For Walls, and Ears, and Eyes; Nay, she bid me take heed, What ever I did, 'Tis good to be merry and Wise.

I took her by th' Hand, She did not withstand, And I gave her a smirking Kiss; She gave me another, Just like the tother, Quoth I, what a Comfort is this?

This put me in Heart, To play o'er my part, That I had intended before; She bid me to hold, And not be too bold, Until she had fastned the Door.

She went to the Hatch, To see that the Latch, And Cranies were all c.o.c.k-sure; And when she had done, She bid me come on, For now we were both secure.

And what we did there, I dare not declare, But think that silence is best; And if you will know, Why I Kiss'd her, or so, I'll leave you to guess at the rest.

_The Praise of_ HULL _Ale_.

[Music]

Let's wet the whistle of the Muse, That sings the praise of every Juice, This House affords for Mortal use, _Which no Body can deny_.

Here's Ale of _Hull_, which 'tis well known, Kept _King_ and _Keyser_ out of Town, Now in, will never hurt the Crown, _Which no Body_, &c.

Here's _Lambeth_ Ale to cool the Maw, And Beer as spruce as e'er you saw, But Mum as good as Man can draw, _Which no Body_, &c.

If Reins be loose as some Mens Lives, Whereat the Purling Female grieves, Here's st.i.tch-Back that will please your Wives, _Which no Body_, &c.

Here's Cyder too, ye little wot, How oft 'twill make ye go to Pot, 'Tis Red-streak all, or it is not, _Which no Body_, &c.

Here's Scholar that has doft his Gown, And donn'd his Cloak and come to Town, 'Till all's up drink his College down, _Which no Body_, &c.

Here's _North_-down, which in many a Case, Pulls all the Blood into the Face, Which blushing is a sign of Grace, _Which no Body_, &c.

If Belly full of Ale doth grow, And Women runs in Head you know, Old _Pharoah_ will not let you go, _Which no Body can deny._

Here's that by some bold Brandy hight, Which _Dutch-men_ use in Case of fright, Will make a Coward for to Fight, _Which no Body_, &c.

Here's _China_ Ale surpa.s.seth far, What _Munden_ vents at _Temple-bar_, 'Tis good for Lords and Ladies Ware, _Which no Body_, &c.

Here's of _Epsom_ will not Fox You, more than what's drawn out of c.o.c.ks Of _Middleton_, yet cures the Pox, _Which no Body_, &c.

For ease of Heart, here's that will do't, A Liquor you may have to boot, Invites you or the Devil to't, _Which no Body_, &c.

For Bottle Ale, though it be windy, Whereof I cannot chuse but mind ye, I would not have it left behind ye, _Which no Body_, &c.

Take Scurvy-Gra.s.s, or Radish Ale, 'Twill make you like a Horse to Stale, And cures whatsoever you Ail, _Which no Body_, &c.

For Country Ales, as that of _Chess_, Or of _Darby_ you'll confess, The more you Drink, you'll need the less, _Which no Body_, &c.

But one thing must be thought upon, for Morning-Draught when all is done, A Pot of Purl for _Harrison_, _Which no Body can deny_.

_The_ NEWS _Monger. To the same Tune._

Let's Sing as one may say the Fate Of those that meddle with this and that, And more than comes to their shares do Prate, _Which no Body can deny._

Such, who their Wine and Coffee Sip, And let fall Words 'twixt Cup and Lip, To scandal of good Fellowship, _Which no Body_, &c.

Those Clubbers who when met and sate, Where every Seat is Chair of State, As if they only knew what's what, _Which no Body_, &c.

D---- me says one, were I so and so, Or as the King, I know what I know, The Devil to wood with the _French_ should go, _Which no Body_, &c.

Would the King Commission grant To me, were _Lewis_, _John_ of _Gaunt_, I'd beat him, or know why I shant, _Which no Body_, &c.

I'd undertake bring Scores to Ten, Of mine at Hours-warning-Men, To make _France_ tremble once again, _Which no Body_, &c.

The Claret takes, yet e'er he Drinks, Cries Pox o'th' _French-men_, but methinks It must go round to my Brother, _Which no Body_, &c.

He's the only Citizen of Sence, And Liberty is his Pretence, And has enough of Conscience, _Which no Body_, &c.

The Bully that next to him sat, With a Green Livery in his Hat, Cry'd what a Plague would the _French_ be at, _Which no Body_, &c.

Z---- had the King without Offence, Been rul'd by me, you'd seen long since, Chastis.e.m.e.nt for their Insolence, _Which no Body_, &c.