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EBBA 30863

British Library - Roxburghe
Ballad XSLT Template
Newes from More-lane;
A mad knavish an uncivil Frolick of a Tapster dwelling there, who buying a fat Coult for eigh-
teen pnce, the Mare being dead, & 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 this following Ditty you
shall hear.
The Tapster fild 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 then a Wagg in graine.
The Tune is, A Health to the best of Men.

THere is a Tapster in More-lane,
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 provd 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.

Likewise there was a Car-man too,
and he found Butter for it;
But when the knavery Neighbors 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 Neighbuors sick:
The Tapster had his humour,
but the Neighbours had the worst,
Yet I doe hear they had good Beere,
and danty Pasty-crust

Then every joviall Blade Sir,
that lived in that place;
They Money freely paid Sir,
they scorned to be bace.
They cald for Beere, likewise for Ale,
because the Coult should swim,
And of the Cup they would not faile.
but fild it to the brim.

The second part, to the same tune,

THe Car-mans Wife cryd 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,
your welcome hartily.

The Glovers Wife was in a heat,
and did both pout and mump,
Because they would not let her eate
the Buttock and the Rump.
As for the merry Weavers 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 too 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 Roague quoth one,
another he feld oaks,
Another said he was undone?
twas worse then Harry-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,
the knavish Tapster too,
The Car-[ma]n was pertaker,
was not this a Jovial 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 in grain
to use his Neighbours so.
When Knave are scarce, heel go for twan,
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, cryd the Tapster then,
how doe you like my sport:
The Women said, so did the Men,
the Devill take you fort.

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.

London, Printed for William Gammon,
and to be sould in Smithfield.

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