%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Old Pudding-pye Woman set forth in her colours, &c. / Of all the rare and various London cryes, / There's none that doth excel Hot Pudding-Pyes: / Each one that hears it, being bit with hunger, / Would wish himself to be a Pudding Monger; / For many likes such Victuals for the nones, / Because in Pudding-Pyes there is no bones. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 03/13/2016 34648

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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

R5213 THere was a Old wife / and she sold Pudding=pyes, Houghton Library Huth EBB65H Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 2: 206 The Old Pudding-pye Woman set forth in her colours, &c. / Of all the rare and various London cryes, / There's none that doth excel Hot Pudding-Pyes: / Each one that hears it, being bit with hunger, / Would wish himself to be a Pudding Monger; / For many likes such Victuals for the nones, / Because in Pudding-Pyes there is no bones. The Old Pudding-pye Woman set forth in her colours, etc. Of all the rare and various London cryes, There’s none that doth excel Hot Pudding-Pyes: Each one that hears it, being bit with hunger, Would with himself to be a Pudding Monger; For many likes such Victuals for the nones, Because in Pudding-Pyes there is no bones. The Old Pudding-pie Woman set forth in her colors, etc. Of all the rare and various London cries, There's none that doth excel Hot Pudding-Pies: Each one that hears it, being bit with hunger, Would wish himself to be a Pudding Monger; For many likes such Victuals for the nonce, Because in Pudding-Pies there is no bones. ?-? F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, and J. Clark

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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 3/13/2016 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America clothing/ appearance economics/ commerce Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 3/13/2016 6:18:49 PM XBallad King, Joyce Created XML Version of Ballad 3/13/2016 6:18:49 PM Transcription Supervisor Palmer, Megan Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/13/2016 6:18:49 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Bell, Erik Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/13/2016 6:18:49 PM Transcriptionist Two Rice, Sarah Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/13/2016 6:18:49 PM Transcriptionist One Gigena, Lucas Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/10/2016 Checker Erik Bell Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 12/2/2015 Checker Jayne Ward Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/3/2014 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Old Pudding-pye Woman set forth in her colours, etc.</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Of all the rare and various London cryes,</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">There's none that doth excel Hot Pudding-Pyes:</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Each one that hears it, being bit with hunger,</hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Would with himself to be a Pudding Monger;</hi></seg> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">For many likes such Victuals for the nones,</hi></seg> <seg n="7" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Because in Pudding-Pyes there is no bones.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="8" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To a rare new Tune much in use, or, <hi rend="bold">There was an Old Wife.</hi></hi></seg>
THere was a Old wife and she sold Pudding-pyes, She went to the Mill and the dust blew into her eyes: She has Hot Puddings and Cold Puddings to sell, Where ever she goes you may follow her by the smell. Betimes in the morning out of her bed she will pack, And give you all warning with a loud thundering crack: Then coughing and spitting, & Rubbing, & Scrubbing her thighs, She hangs on her Cloaths and away to sell Pudding-pyes.
She calls up her Neighbors for to go and fuddle a Pot, Because to go fasting O she likes it not; Her Bub she doth tipple and then having cleared her eyes She goes to the Oven to fetch her Pudding-pyes. O Baker quoth she I prethy do not me cozen, I am an Old wife tell fifteen to the dozen; For by that means my profit doth fairly rise, Or else I must never more cry Pudding-pyes.
AT every Corner and in every street, This Pudding-pye-woman be sure you oft shall meet; With Basket on head and hand on her Butock she cryes, Come here all away that will buy Hot Pudding-pyes. She hath a long Nose and often the same doth drop, A piece of Hot Pudding would make a dainty Sop, Her Beetle-brow forehead hangs quite over her eyes, She scarcely can see to sell her Pudding-pyes, Her hands she doth wash but twice three times in a year, The print of her fingers doth fair on her Puddings appear She's two yards about, which you I say is a pretty size, For an Old wife that doth sell Hot Pudding-pyes. In Winter you may behold her dragled Tail, And lagging she goes along just like a Snail, All sprinkled with mire a handful about her thighs, You that have good stomachs come buy her Pudding-pyes.
At Noon and at Night this Firkin of stuff doth wag, Some money to take to put in her greasie bag: I wish she would make me her Heir whenever she dyes, Then I shall have money for all her Pudding-pyes. Her Puddings are fat, in Summer they use to fry With heat of the Sun, or else she hath told a lye: But what she puts in them I swear I cannot devize, Then buy and you'l try how you like her Pudding-pyes. She had a young Daughter that takes after her Mother, And will be as like her as one Pea's like another; If any young Man have a mind to such a Rare prize, He shall have her Daughter and all her Pudding-pyes. And thus you may see how I this Woman describe, 'Tis nothing to me I'm sure she'l give me no Bribe, But I am content since that I have told no lyes, Then farewel to those that do cry Hot Pudding-pyes.
London, Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, and J. Clark.