SHROVETYDE
Jou that hate Fasting, Dearth, and sta
[...]ling Leanes,
Spitts bright hangd up, and Teeth and Platters Cleanes
Behold your Champion Shrovetide
in this fray
Would murder Lent, and every fasting day.
FAtt
Shrovetyde, mounted on a good fatt
Oxe,
Supposd that
Lent was mad, or caught a
Foxe,
Armd
Cap a pea from head unto the heele,
A Spit, his long-sword, somewhat worse then steele
(Sheath'd in a fatt Pigge, and a peece of Porke)
His bottles fil'd with Wine, well stopt with Corke
The two plump Capons, fluttering at his Crupper,
And's shoulders lac'd with Saw sages for Supper,
The Gridir'n (like a well strung Instrument)
Hung at his backe, and for the Turnament
His Helmet is a brasse Pott, and his Flagge
A Cookes foule Apron, which the wind doth wagg,
Fixd to a Broome, thus bravely he did ride
And boldly to his foe, he thus replyde.
What art thou, thou leane jawde Anottamie
All spirit (for I no flesh upon thee spie)
Thou bragging peece of ayre and smoake, that prat'st
And all good fellowship and friendship hat'st,
You'le turne our feasts to fasts, when, can you tell
Against your spight, we are provided well.
Thou sayst thou'lt ease the Cookes, the Cooks could wish
Thee boyld or broyld with all thy froathy fish,
For one fish dinner takes more paines and cost
Then three of flesh, bak'd, roast or boyld, almost,
You'le take away our playes, our sports and pleasure
And give the Butchers time for ease and leasure,
Alasse poor scabbe, how barren are thy hopes
The Fencers, Beares, and Dauncers on the Ropes,
Is manly sport, or lawlesse recreation
Which all thy sev'n weeks time, are still in fashion,
The truth is, thou aswagest few mens hunger
And hast no faithfull friend but the Fishmonger.
There's Iittle danger to attend on me
When men are drownd at Sea to furnish thee,
Pease pottage, and dryde beanes, by proofe we find
Offends and fills men with unwholsome wind,
And ere I'le be a slave and pinch my maw
I'le breake all Proclamation, rule and Law,
Wee'le fill our Tubs with powdred flesh, beside
By licenc't Butchers we will be supplyde
With fresh meat; so hungry
Lent adieu,
We are resolv'd to feed in spight of you.
FINIS.
LONDON: Printed by M. S. for Thomas Jenner, and are to be sold at his Shop at the South Entrance of the Royall Exchange, 1660.