%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The St. GILES's Frolick, or / SMITH's Ramble for New / Adventures. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/27/2011 31189

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

T48526 I The other night was drunk, / And somewhat merry, Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 3: 489 The St. GILES's Frolick, or / SMITH's Ramble for New / Adventures. The St. GILES’s Frolick, or SMITH’s Ramble for New Adventures. The St. GILES’s Frolic, or SMITH’s Ramble for New Adventures. ?-?

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious types & sects royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic The New World travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgarities/ crass humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 4/27/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America affliction/ health alcohol sex/ sexuality urban life vulgarities/ crass humor Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/27/2011 3:23:32 PM XBallad Doss, MacKenzie Created XML Version of Ballad 4/27/2011 3:23:32 PM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/27/2011 3:23:32 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/27/2011 3:23:32 PM Transcriptionist Two Fadel, Meghan Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/27/2011 3:23:32 PM Transcriptionist One Foley, Christopher Transcription of ballad manuscript 1/23/2009 Bibliographer Meghan Fadel Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 1/19/2011 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 1/19/2011 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 1/19/2011 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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I The other night was drunk, And somewhat merry, Went in search of a punk, Not finding any. To St. Giles I did stroll, Whores there is plenty, At every corner of the Street, Not less than twenty. Sweep soot O, mop spinning Nan, Huging and billing, Nan you whore lets have a dram, Yes, Tom I am willing: To a gin ken, strait they went, I laughd till my sides ached, To hear them bawl bring half a pint, Of old strip me naked. Next down a cellar I did peep, Hearing a growling, A hangd man coverd with a sheet, The Pats oer him a howling, O harrah dear why would you die, And leave your dear honey, I wish the tief youd neer come nigh, Nor never touchd his money. Next in Church lane one I know well, At black Rachel snatches, In Summer time nosegays she sells, In winter time matches. He huggd and kist and calld her dear, The black bitch did finny, Whilst he was bobbing at her ware, She nailed all his money. Then I rolld to Maynard Street, Some whores I heard scolding, Through a key hole I did peep, Such a scene beholding. Says Bess to Kate, I think of late, We have got our hire; Of pox and itch such moan did make Anointing by the fire. In Monmouth Street a drunken buck Met with a madam, Soon as the bargain they had struck, She to a Watchman had him. Let me youre Watch box occupy, Ill bug to you a shilling, Here damn you, dont the bit deny, The scout cryd I am willing. Shorts Gardens I next did see. Two whores a fighting, Y[o]u bitch says one, you slanged me, In the bit dividing The parrole upon my soul, Did to the round house take them, Half naked they were dragd away, With cold shivering and shaking, Down Holborn-Hill, homeward I steerd, I saw a rig funny, A blackmoor there met a whore And swore hed feel her c-y. Twas on a butchers block, O look He gave poor bunn the cholick, At growing day, I came away Well pleased with my frolick.