The Citizens Vindication Against the Down right [...]ountrey-man. (alias Boobee)
Let Rusticks spit their V
[...]nome still,
Against the Dames of
London,
[...]
[...]
T
[...]
[...]
VVHat silly sensless Countrey Clown
has put this wit in Print?
To abuse the Dames of London Town
though there is nothing in t:
Only to show his apishness,
and prove himself an Ass,
For all men know where e're they go.
none's like a
London Lass.
Yet every Plow-boy now a days
most sawcily will prate,
And set forth
Doll's and
Molly's praise,
hatcht in his noddle pate:
Through
England, Scotland, France, & Spain
or wheresoe're you pass,
You'l find all Noddy's that disdain
the gentile
London Lass.
See how their Clothes do fit in Print,
and mind
Joan's draggle-tayle,
See how she like a Puss doth squint,
Crow
[...]'d with her Milking-paile:
Or, if you mind how she doth splay
as she goes through the Grass,
You then without all doubt will say,
give me the
London Lass.
If you but walk to the Exchange,
there you may
[...]reatures see,
That to the Bumkins may seem strange,
they'r Natures rarity.
Such in the Countries there are none,
then blame that simple Ass,
Whose folly needs he must make known,
to blame the
London lass.
A Citizen an Angel seems
that in the Countrey goes,
All men their Company esteems
that any breeding knows:
While
Tom and
Robin stands and stares
to see them as they pass;
For in this Land there's none compares
with a brisk
London lass.
Besides the bonny City Lads
like Gentlemen do go,
While Countrey Bumkins ride on Pads
say nothing but gee ho,
Instead of Leather-bottles, they
to th' Tavern post with speed,
And merrily pass the time away:
these are brave boys indeed.
While Citizens in Coaches ride
the Bumkin rides in's Cart,
And there he sits puffed up with Pride,
though he's not worth a f---
And if he to a Pudding gets
he Farmer like doth feed,
While
London Lads live by their wits,
like Gentlemen indeed.
A Whip must serve a Countrey Clown▪
instead of Belt and Sword,
He whistling passes through the Town▪
and thinks himself a Lord.
Whilst
London boys, when they do meet,
full quickly are agreed
To drink a Glass of Wine that's neat,
these are brave boys indeed.
'Tis true, we have some cracks i'th Town,
perhaps have had a Bearn
By some lascivious Country clown
no danger could discern,
And then they up to
London come
more Bastards for to breed,
Perhaps they have deluded some,
the worst of men indeed.
Match but a Bumkin to a man,
or Iuggs to
London Lasses;
And then distinguish, if you can,
how Londoners surpasses:
The Rustick-bore that knows not how
for to repeat his Creed,
Knows nothing more than drive the Plow,
a gentile Curr indeed.
Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball in West Smithfield.