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EBBA 32821

National Library of Scotland - Crawford
Ballad XSLT Template
Pleasant JIGG
Jack and his Mistress:
Or, The young Carman's Courage cool'd by the
suddain approach, of his Master, who found him too kind to his
Tune of Mary Live Long. Licensed according to Order.

A Carman of late,
Who liv'd in the City,
A sorrowful Dity,
His wife was too great
with their Prentice Boy,
But a swinging young Spark
At a wench in the dark;
Now this his Dame knew,
And therefore stout Johnny,
And therefore stout Johnny,
Must tickle her to.

It happen'd one day,
His Mistriss came to him,
No question she knew him,
To be e'ry way,
a Lad for her turn;
Where's your Master, she cry'd?
With a friend; he reply'd;
She then void of shame,
Said Johnny come kiss me,
Sweet Johnny come kiss me,
Make much of thy Dame.

Sweet Mistress I fear,
A woful disaster,
The wrath of me Master,
If once he should hear,
I play'd with your Lute,
He would liquor my hide,
You're a fool, she reply'd,
Take courage for shame,
O fear not your Master,
Boy fear not your Master,
But pleasure your Dame.

I count it no crime,
To dally in pleasure,
We'll Toy out of measure,
Tis not the first time,
Nor sha'nt be the last,
Therefore come on my Boy,
Let us Pleasure enjoy,
Take Courage for shame,
'Tis sweet Recreation,
'Tis sweet Recreation,
To pleasure thy Dame.

Thy Master, I'll swear,
If once he should Cavel,
We'll send to dig Gravel,
With Friends to Horn-Fair,
He dare not say no,
But at home we will stay,
Then in order to play,
The Frolicksome Game,
Boy do not deny me,
John do not deny me,
But pleasure thy Dame,

Thy Corral and Bells,
And Whistle I know it,
If thou wilt bestow it
For pleasures excells,
The lest in the Town,
Thou art Lusty and strong
And can lay me along,
Take Courage for shame,
Thou here in the Stable,
Thou here in the Stable,
Shall pleasure thy Dame.

His master by chance,
Then being near them,
Did soon over-hear them,
And strait did advance,
With fury and Rage,
Like a Fellow Horn-mad,
He fell on the Lad,
His shoulders he paid,
'Cause John in his Pasture,
'Cause John in his Pasture,
a Tresspass had made.

Ah! what hast thou done,
So sad a beration,
Was ne'r in the nation,
Horn-mad I shall run,
Without all dispute,
Oh ye villain said he,
I will not make you Free,
But bring you to shame,
Because you have wrong'd me,
Because you have wrong'd me,
and play'd with your Dame.

Printed for J. Deacon, at the Angel in Guilt-spur-street without New-Gate.

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