The Maids new All-a-mode PINCUSHING,
OR,
Come stick a Pin here my LADS.
To the Tune of, I am the Duke of Norfolk,
|
I Am a maid of Flushing,
|
and I have a Pincushing
|
Although my Cloaths are bare
|
There came a Cook Ruffin,
|
And he said it wanted Stuffing,
|
And fain he would have stuck
|
a Pin, there, there, there.
|
This Pincushing a Witch is
|
and breaks through leather Breeches
|
And breaks through our buttons of brass
|
in vain they stand as Centry
|
To guard Dame Natures Entry,
|
For Pincushing maketh Man,
|
an Asse, an Asse, an Asse.
|
The Miser chat thinks Money
|
much sweeter then the Honey
|
Saies (look) what I have for thee here)
|
to see if I can (win ye)
|
I bring a lovely Guinea.
|
Then hold up thy Pincushing
|
my Dear, my Dear my Dear.
|
The People in the Tower
|
stick forty in an Hour
|
Upon an old Pincushing there
|
for Pence a piece the Rabble-Rout
|
May stick 'em in and take 'em out.
|
For Codpeice does never cry,
|
forbear, forbear, forbear.
|
B Ut mine is Cupids Pillow
|
not fit for every Fellow,
|
'Tis black as the feet of the Swan
|
as woollie as the Peech is,
|
And tender as the Beech is,
|
And fit for the Service of a
|
Man, a Man, a Man.
|
The Miller and the Farrier
|
The Plowman and the Carrier
|
Did proffer me fine Toys with their Pin
|
the Grocer Suger-Candy
|
The Vinter Wine and Brandy,
|
They all came to stuff my
|
Pincushing, Cushing, Cushing.
|
The Brewer and the Baker,
|
the Fidler and the Quaker,
|
Resorted to my Pincushing
|
they often would be billing,
|
And feel if I were willing,
|
To stick but a little small Pin,
|
in, in, in, in.
|
Sweet Sue may leave her Bobbing
|
and Toy with bonny Robbin
|
I f she a good Pincushing have
|
I t wins the Heart of Arthur ,
|
Much better then the Garter.
|
And makes him a lamentable
|
Slave, a Slave, a Slave.
|
I am resolv'd to Marry
|
and will no longer tarry,
|
But use my Pincushing Will,
|
Let Cicely live and die a Maid
|
Of leading Apes I am afraid,
|
I must of Young Cupid have,
|
my fill, my fill, my fill.
|
|
|
|
|
|