%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> [THE / Coy CO]OK-MAID, / Who was Courted importunately by Irish, Welch, Spanish, French and Dutch, but at last was / conquered by a poor English Taylor. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1685-1685 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/24/2014 33388

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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

R228158 1 There was a brisk Lass, &c UNKNOWN There was a brisk Lass, &c [J]Oan scrub'd up her rooms, made all things clean, / The tables, the chairs, and the edge of the skreen, Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 726 [THE / Coy CO]OK-MAID, / Who was Courted importunately by Irish, Welch, Spanish, French and Dutch, but at last was / conquered by a poor English Taylor. [THE Coy CO]OK-MAID, Who was Courted importunately by Irish, Welch, Spanish, French and Dutch, but at last was conquered by a poor English Taylor. The Coy COOK MAID, Who was Courted importunately by Irish, Welsh, Spanish, French and Dutch, but at last was conquered by a poor English Taylor. 1685-1685 P. Brooksby

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family Featured 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 groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 6/24/2014 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America country/ nation marriage race/ ethnicity violence vulgar humor Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/24/2014 12:13:51 PM XBallad Chow, Jeremy Created XML Version of Ballad 6/24/2014 12:13:51 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/24/2014 12:13:51 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/24/2014 12:13:51 PM Transcriptionist Two Moss, Benjamin Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/24/2014 12:13:51 PM Transcriptionist One Yuen, Pui Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/28/2013 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/13/2013 Checker William Hildalgo Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/5/2012 Bibliographer Olivia Miller Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 11/5/2012 Checker Olivia Miller Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/26/2012 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 1/13/2013 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">[THE</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Coy CO]OK-MAID,</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Who was Courted importunately by <hi rend="bold">Irish, Welch, Spanish, French</hi> and <hi rend="bold">Dutch,</hi> but at last was</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">conquered by a poor <hi rend="bold">English</hi> Taylor.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To the Tune of, <hi rend="bold">There was a brisk Lass,</hi> etc.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">This may be Printed,</hi> R.P.</hi></seg>
[J]Oan scrub'd up her rooms, made all things clean, The tables, the chairs, and the edge of the skreen, [S]he scour'd each pispot and pewter-dish [Ma]de e'ry thing clean as heart could wish; [Th]e pewter and brass was so very clear, [Th]at wanting a glass, she oft drew near, [To] deck up her head and curle her hair, [Not] one amongst twenty with her could compare. [She] made her plumb pottage and sweet minc'd-pies, [The r]ost-beef was laid down when she did rise; [Dinn]er was ready, and lik'd so well, [Not] one amongst twenty could Joan excel; [They] prais'd her so much that Joan grew proud, [And th]en she began to prate aloud, [I will] have a husband oft she cry'd, [A prett]y young-man to lye by my side.
Then out stept a Scot with blew bonnet on, He lookt full as big as a Spanish don His pistol was under his chequer'd plade, His whinyard was made of a Bilbo blade: Quoth he, bread a gad, the day's mine awn, Ise as bonny a fellow as e'er was knawn, Ise will ha this lassee before Ise gang beam, She'll mack me geud langkeal to fill my weam. He came salute her, but Joan was mad, And call'd the poor scotch-man a sawcy lad, She took up the ladle and broke his p[a]te, And told him he proffer'd his love too late: Deel blin you, quoth Sawny, you nasty slut, The muckl deel stop hemp in your gut, Ise now seck Joan to be my wife, She'll e'ne mack me weary of my life.
Then a fine french-man took his place, His cravet and ruffles where all of lace. Said he, begar, me comes to dis place, Me be much in love vid your sweet face, Me no like no lady vidin this town, Begar, me no like dem, dey ver[y] much frown; Me have seen all, me tink dere's none Dat may be compar'd vid mistriss Joan. Me be resolve to lose my life But me vill have Joan to be my wife: Joan look'd about, and then reply'd, The devil shall be the french-man's bride; March to your portage you finical knave, I'll ne'r go to France to be your slave; Get you out of the kitchin, or else by Mars This swinging spit shall run through your a------ Poor monsieur lookt blank and sneakt away, For his wife nor his life he durst not stay; Then enter'd an irish man and swore The noise of her beauty brought him o're; My naam ish Teague, and by my shalwaashon, I prize dy faash 'bove all to de Naashon, Den preddee dear joy come kish my shweet faash, By shaint Phaatrick I never will leave this plaash. I have a potato plat of my own, An a shneeshing-boxh, 'tish very well known; I have a schullogue to run by my shide, I fait and trote thou shalt be my bride. Be gone bogg-trotter, then Joan did cry, Or the brom-stick shall on your shoulders lie, Pack up your awle, and make short of your story, Or I'll make you pay dear for your vain-glory.
A seaman from Holland then enter'd the l[ist,] As drunken a rascal as ever pist; He brought in his hand a bottle of Nans, And swore 'twas the famousest liquor in Fra[nce;] 'Twill make you Dutch spraagen before it b[e noon] Be gone (said she) you drunken clown, I'll pull the blew rug from off your pate, If you offer to stay with Joan to prate. And then Jack Spaniard began to vapour, With a mighty short cloak and a very long rap[ier] He offer'd his service and proudly did strut, But Joan went and gave him a kick with her f[oot] Ye insolent dog (quoth she) be gone, There's none I hate more then a Spanish don, I mean not to wait upon such a proud sinner Whilst he is pamp'ring his guts at dinner. The welch-man hearing the rest were gone, Resolv'd that he would be with her anon, With leek in his hat, on St. Taffys day He came to Joan, and thus he did say: Hur was a prave shentleman in Wales, Hur has a tood land, cots-plurter-a-nails, Hur has a fine goat, and hur makes sheese, Was hur makes hur a lady if now hur please. But Joan protested she hated them all, And swore to be at an english man's call; She knew their humours and did not doubt But same or other would chuse her out; At last she married a taylor good lord, And he the greazy frigat did board, They both were well pleas'd and kindly agreed, And she from the rest of her suitors was freed.
FINIS. Printed for P.Brooksby, in Pye-corner.