Merchant poems |
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Description of a wonderful Maid to be seen in this City, 160 Years old,
with an Account of the surprising Actions she performs.
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 | Merchant |  |
Description of a wonderful Maid to be seen in this City, 160 Years old, with an Account of the surprising Actions she performs.
Few of the Grave and Wise delight to go,
And see vain Plays, or idle Puppet Show:
But blooming Youth, and those with Age decay'd,
Will flock to view this venerable MAID;
No German Monster, ugly to the Eye;
Well shap'd, tho' she hath neither Arm nor Thigh.
Tho' she wants Feet, yet doth she run with speed;
She hath no Hands, and yet she kills Men dead.
The Cockatrice kills with it's Eye, they say,
But she hath none, and with her Lips doth slay:
She hath no Teeth, yet feeds on Bones and Flesh,
Her Drink is Blood, yet never did she Pish,
She hath no Throat, and yet a very Glutton,
How does she gormandize a Craig of Mutton?
No angry Words doth either speak or Write,
Nor fight, but hath a most confounded Bite.
No Party Woman, and it is her Glory,
For equally she wounds the Whig and Tory;
'Tis true, her Pride flies to the highest Pitch;
She Kisses none except the Great and Rich,
And they receive th'imperious MAID's Embrace,
On bended Knees, with Rev'rence bow the Face.
Surely she hath a Kindness to our Nation,
Who UNION hates; she's still for Separation.
Few Maids there are: like her, upon the Earth,
Who never thought on Marriage since her Birth;
Surely she is not sprung of Adam's Seed,
Who never fin'd in Thought or Word or Deed.
From whence can she such powerful Influence draw?
For Faithfully she doth fulfil the Law.
And see vain Plays, or idle Puppet Show:
But blooming Youth, and those with Age decay'd,
Will flock to view this venerable MAID;
No German Monster, ugly to the Eye;
Well shap'd, tho' she hath neither Arm nor Thigh.
Tho' she wants Feet, yet doth she run with speed;
She hath no Hands, and yet she kills Men dead.
The Cockatrice kills with it's Eye, they say,
But she hath none, and with her Lips doth slay:
She hath no Teeth, yet feeds on Bones and Flesh,
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She hath no Throat, and yet a very Glutton,
How does she gormandize a Craig of Mutton?
No angry Words doth either speak or Write,
Nor fight, but hath a most confounded Bite.
No Party Woman, and it is her Glory,
For equally she wounds the Whig and Tory;
'Tis true, her Pride flies to the highest Pitch;
She Kisses none except the Great and Rich,
And they receive th'imperious MAID's Embrace,
On bended Knees, with Rev'rence bow the Face.
Surely she hath a Kindness to our Nation,
Who UNION hates; she's still for Separation.
Few Maids there are: like her, upon the Earth,
Who never thought on Marriage since her Birth;
Surely she is not sprung of Adam's Seed,
Who never fin'd in Thought or Word or Deed.
From whence can she such powerful Influence draw?
For Faithfully she doth fulfil the Law.
Her Father was a Smith be South the Tweed,
And Halifax brought forth that cruel MAID.
When young, was courted by a Scotish Peer.
His Lordship lov'd her well and brought her here,
Yet, ah! a very strange Reward he got,
The Jezabel kist him, and cut his Throat.
Some do conclude, she's sorry for her Sins,
And now a Life of Penitence begins;
For every Time she goes to take the Air,
Pious Divines are with her closs at Pray'r.
Thrice Fifty Years ago this MAID was seen,
Yet no more Wrinkles hath than when Fifteen.
Her Livery-man, and her Lead colour'd Gown,
Distinguish her from Ladies of the Town.
Lying with her many brave Men have dy'd,
Yet she's a MAID, which cannot be deny'd,
Yet most reclusely lives like any Nun,
For some Years past, she hath not seen the Sun.
You may come view her any Hour of Day,
Learn all is Fact, and only Six Pence Pay.
She lodges at the back of Goldsmith's Hall;
Great is the Wonder and the Payment small.
And Halifax brought forth that cruel MAID.
When young, was courted by a Scotish Peer.
His Lordship lov'd her well and brought her here,
Yet, ah! a very strange Reward he got,
The Jezabel kist him, and cut his Throat.
Some do conclude, she's sorry for her Sins,
And now a Life of Penitence begins;
For every Time she goes to take the Air,
Pious Divines are with her closs at Pray'r.
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Yet no more Wrinkles hath than when Fifteen.
Her Livery-man, and her Lead colour'd Gown,
Distinguish her from Ladies of the Town.
Lying with her many brave Men have dy'd,
Yet she's a MAID, which cannot be deny'd,
Yet most reclusely lives like any Nun,
For some Years past, she hath not seen the Sun.
You may come view her any Hour of Day,
Learn all is Fact, and only Six Pence Pay.
She lodges at the back of Goldsmith's Hall;
Great is the Wonder and the Payment small.
| Merchant | |