T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
A Pleasant New Ballad
Roxburghe BalladsBeing a pleasant discourse between a country lass and a young tailor (Anonymous; from Vol. III) |
IN harvest-time I walked | |
hard by a corn-close side; | |
I hearing people talk, | |
I looked about, and spied | |
A young man and a maid, | 5 |
together they did lie; | |
When you hear it told, | |
You’ll laugh full heartily. | |
She was as buxom a lass | |
as any in our town; | 10 |
She will not let you pass, | |
but she’ll call you to sit down. | |
A tailor passing by, | |
she hit him on the heel; | |
“You are very welcome, Sir, | 15 |
to sit you down and feel: | |
“What money’s in my purse | |
at your command shall be, | |
If you will go along | |
to Marston Wake with me.” | 20 |
He hearing her say so, | |
and seeing her to smile, | |
Was charmed with her, so | |
he sat him down a while. | |
And having groped her purse, | 25 |
and taken all her money, | |
He groped again, and missed, | |
and caught her by the coney. | |
“Where am I now?” quoth he, | |
“another have I found;” | 30 |
“It’s not the same,” quoth he, | |
“for this is tufted round. | |
“If it be tufted round,” quoth she, | |
“there is good reason for it, | |
Therein such treasure lies | 35 |
will make a tailor sport.” | |
He hearing her say so, | |
being a frolicsome lad, | |
Was willing for to know | |
more of the fringed bag. | 40 |
With that he eagerly | |
to feel put forth his hand. | |
“Nay, hold, good sir,” said she, | |
“go not before you stand: | |
Except you take your yard | 45 |
the depth of it to measure, | |
You’ll find the purse so deep, | |
you’ll hardly come to the treasure.” | |
He hearing her say so, | |
it put him to a stand; | 50 |
She seeing him dismayed, | |
she took his yard in hand; | |
“Is this your yard,” quoth she, | |
“is this your tailor’s measure? | |
It is too short for me, | 55 |
it is not standard measure.” | |
The tailor being abashed, | |
she told him that it was | |
More fitter for a man, | |
than such a puny ass. | 60 |
She bids him now be gone, | |
since he could make no sport, | |
And said, “thou art too dull | |
to enter such a fort.” | |
Then looking fiercely at him, | 65 |
she said, “thou sneaking fool, | |
Go straight away to Vulcan | |
and let him mend thy tool. | |
And tell him that Dame Venus | |
at him is almost mad, | 70 |
For sending to her school | |
such an unfit lad.” | |
You tailors that attempt | |
fringed bags to measure, | |
Be sure your yards be sealed, | 75 |
and of full Standard Measure. | |