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[Folding frontispiece illustration with rhyme below]
They took all the Chairs from the, Room,
The Bawd She beat time
with the Broom:
Kitty, the stupid young W—e, [whore]
fell smack on her Back on the
floor.
She screamed out with horror and dread;
for her Cloaths flew all
over her head.
THE
Bang-up Songster!
A FAMOUS COLLECTION OF
Flash, Fancy, Friskey,
AMATORY AND CLAMATORY
Never before printed & adapted for Gentlemen only
Among numerous others will be found:—
THE BLOWEN' S BALL!
RANDY JOHNNY ! SARY's BOTTLE !
ADAM'S ROOT ;
OR, THE RIGS OF ADAM AND EVE.
THE C ! ! ! a Famous Parody on "The Sea."
THE DILOOE !
Or, the Amorous Old Maids.
THE SHICKSTER' S CHAUNT .
The Squire's Thingumbob & Kitty's What you call it
The Rake's Register .
THE GIRL OF THE TOWN.
THE BALD HEADED FRIAR .
MY WIFE'S FUNNY THING.
My Lord's Long Ledger. Ellen's Red Rose.
UNDER THE SHIFT;
A capital Parody on "Under the Rose."
The Old Woman's Mutton ! Those London Mots !
T H E CHAMBERPOT !
Will you Sleep with me, my Dear ! Here's to the
Shickster of Friskey Fifteen ! Mrs. Grumbleton's
two mouths.
Published by W. West, 57, Wych-street.
THE BANG-UP SONGSTER. THE BLOWEN'S BALL!
A PRIME NEW FLASH DITTY.
Tune —
Arthur O'
Bradley.
Come, listen awhile unto me,
You
Sheena's of ev'ry degree;
I sing of a bit of a rout,
To which all the motts were asked out;
Togg'd in their best cloathes so grand,
At a bawdy-ken just by the Strand,
The baw'd had just come to some cash,
So determined she was to be flash;
She invited the blowens so free,
To dinner and also to t e a ;
She search'd all the streets for the
gals,
And invited the whole of their pals ;
And at night, what was better than all,
She gave all the blowens a ball!
All rare blowens together,
Were met at the bawdy-house ball!
4. BANG-UP
SONGSTER. And had you but witness'd the lot,
I'm sure you would ne'er have forgot,
There was leary, and bandy and lame,
Goggle-eyed, humpy, and game.
There was Old Wriggle-stern Bet,
Black Len, with a face like j e t ;
Brazen-face Kitty and Peg,
Who had such a charming cork leg:
Blear-eyed Suke and her man,
Frisky Old Nelly and Fan;
Mother M'Casey so stout,
With her bubbies all dangling out,
Wry-mouth Jenny and Poll,
Sally, and bandy-legg'd Moll!
All rare, &c.
The
Pensioners came in a throng,
To mix with the blowens among,
There was costermongers and
pigs,
Dustmen, coalheavers, and prigs,
There was thirty flash kiddies or more,
A couple to every w----e,
There was leary Bob Flummax so jolly,
Long-shanks and
Elephant's tolly,
There was Billy the faker so sly,
Flash Joe who had only one eye,
The tall costermonger Ben Brown,
Who had kiss'd every girl on the town,
Some with their shirts hanging out,
Determined to make up the rout!
All flash kiddies, &c.
BANG-UP SONGSTER. 5
The bawd got them plenty of scran,
Pigs chittlings fried in a pan;
Sheeps' jemmies to stuff in their croup,
Cow-heels, cocks'-head broth and pea soup,
Red herrings full fifty or more,
Baked taters and carrots galore,
Trotters to please the old cronies,
Faggots, and bread and polonies,
Gatter a deuce of a lot,
Gin in an old chamber pot;
The blowens were all quite gay,
They wolf'd ev'ry thing in their way,
They drank and they blow'd out their kite,
Oh! never was seen such delight! All, &c.
With the gatter they made very free,
Till the time it came round to have tea ;
Ev'ry one drank twenty cups,
For they wouldn't take it by sups,
They proved they were none of them guffins,
They each put away thirty muffins ;
Till at last the old bawd gave a squall,
" It ' s time to commenee with the ball ! "
The fiddler they stuck on a chair,
And to scrape he did quickly prepare;
Cried blear-eyed Sukey so arch,
" Come, play you old
bloat,
' The Rogues
March"
Said bandy-legged Moll, " that's no use,
" You old buffer play ' Petticoats loose !"
For, we're all, &c.
6
BANG-UP SONGSTER. They took all the chairs from the room,
The bawd she beat time with the broom,
They all did so merrily prance,
They jig, ree', caper and dance,
The
gals just to give-themselves
ease,
Pull'd their petticoats up to their knees;
Kitty, the stupid young w-----e.
Fell smack on her rump on the floor,
She scream'd out with horror and dread,
For her cloathes flew all over her head,
And the kiddies all feasted their eyes,
On a something not far from her thighs,
And they all declared I am sure,
They'd ne'er seen a better before ! So, &c.
They danced while they sometimes did boose,
Till they all felt inclined for a snoose,
Then every one of the gals,
Selected two coves for their pals,
And for fear it should not be enough,
They strip't themselves all into buff,
And having display'd all their charms,
They rush'd into each other's arms,
Of crowding not being in dread,
They laid full six in a bed;
They huddled and cuddled together,
Because they were birds of a feather,
They kiss'd one another so true,
And did—what we all like to do !
So they all got happy together
That met at the Bawdy-house ball!
7 BANG-UP SONGSTER. ADAM'S ROOT,
OR, THE RIGS OF ADAM AND EVE!
An Original Amatory Song.
Air—Derry
Down.
Perhaps you've all heard the story of Adam
and Eve,
If not I will tell it to you by your leave,
They were put into Eden, you very well
know,
And were the inventors of whoredom below !
Tol de rot, &c.
They both were as naked as naked could be,
But still as they tell us they nothing could
see,
But they must have been blind or else 'tis a
farce,
For they had not a rag, e'en to cover their
Tol de dol, &c.
All at once Mrs. Eve took a fancy to fruit,
No doubt what she long'd for came from a
queer root,
And no wonder indeed that her wishes grew
strong.
For her spouse had a tree which was temptingly
long !
Tol de dol, &c.
8 BANG-UP SONGSTER. Adam's tree amidst furze all so proudly it
grew.
So mighty in bulk, and so tempting to view;
It was able to
stand
any blast that might
blow,
And two pretty apples hung from it below !
Tol de dol, &c.
To handle these apples from morning till
night,
Was Eve's source of pleasure & only delight;
Till she long'd, and she long'd, to her fate
they might fall.
So at length she took apples, the tree too
and all!
Tol de dol, &c.
So great was the joy it did yield her divine,
From that day Adam's tree she would never
resign;
Sometimes it droop'd low and quite useless
'tis said,
But Eve at a touch made it lift up its head !
Tol de dol, &c.
Their manners offended the lord of the place,
So he kicked them from Eden, away in disgrace.
And so from that once happy spot being
hurled,
They very soon spread whoredom over the
world!
BANG-UP SONGSTER. 9 RANDY JOHNNY!
A RUMMY CHAUNT NEVER BEFORE PRINTED.
Air—The
Bold Dragoon.
A lady kept a Johnny,
And he was a randy blade,
For in spite of all their huffs and cuffs,
He bedded every maid.
With his in and out, round about,
Hairy, leary, randy, dandy,
Oh, the very deuce he played,
With his long, strong,
I can't tell you !
Fol lol de lay, &c.
The cookmaid in the kitchen,
Scorn'd his offers very flat;
But Johnny not at all abash'd,
Was soon plump in her fat !
With his squeezing, teasing, pressing, blessing.
Hoaxing, coaxing, blisses, kisses,
He put her on the spit,
With his long, strong,
I can't tell you!
Fol lol, &c.
The lady's maid upon the bed,
He got one afternoon ;
And though she squall'd a little bit,
He pleased her very soon.
With his huddling, cuddling, mauling,hauling
Winning, grinning, moving, loving,
10 BANG-UP SONGSTER. He gave her what she wanted,
With his long, strong,
I can'I tell you!
Fol lol, &c.
The housemaid was upon her knees,
A cleaning down the stairs;
So Johnny soon was at her tail,
And shew'd some pretty airs!
With bis in and out, round about,
Hairy, leary, randy, dandy ;
He stopp'd the housemaid's noise,
With his long, strong,
I can't tell you !
Fol lol, &c.
The scullery maid, he next beheld,
And took her on the sly;
So he laid her on the carpet,
As she was not very shy ;
With his squeezing, teasing, pressing, blessing.
Hoaxing, coaxing, kisses, blisses,
He pleased the scullery maid,
With his long, strong,
l can't tell you !
Fol lol, &c.
The housekeeper was rather lame,
And ugly, old, and tough ;
But then she had a pretty spot,
And that was quite enough.
For his huddling, cuddling, mauling, hauling
Winning, grinning, moving, loving.
He kissed her till she fainted,
With his long, strong,
I cant tell you!
Fol lol, &c.
11
BANG-UP SONGSTER. His mistress to her bed-room went,
One day to have a dose;
So John pull'd off his trousers,
And he popp'd beneath the cloathes !
With his in and out, round about,
Hairy, leary, randy, dandy,
He made her quite content—with his—
Long, strong,
I cant tell you !
Fol lol, &c.
MORAL.
SO lads if you would to desire,
Give its proper spring ;
Remember that variety,
Is quite the very thing !
With your in and out, round about,
Hairy, leary, randy, dandy ;
Cooy randy Johnny, with his—
Long, strong,
I can't tell you !
Fol lol, &c.
THE C !
An Original, Amatory Parody on
" THE SEA . "
The C, the C, the open C !
Is the only place so dear to me,
Without a stain, so nice and round,
It stands in a
airy—watery—ground
!
It warms the blood, and charms the eyes,
And like a sleeping kitten, it lies !
12 BANG-UP SONGSTER. I'm in the C, I'm in the C !
I am where I would ever be.
With myself above and the C below,
The seat of bliss I value so;
When I'm stiff with the cold, to bed I creap,
And the C can lull me off to sleep!
I love, oh, how I love to ride
At night along with my lovely bride,
When she for bliss is in the tune, [till morn ;
And will keep me in pleasure from night
Or will tickle and play along with me so,
Till the tide of rapture 'gins to flow!
I never went with a dirty w----e,
But I loved my old woman more and more,
And back I flew to her arms for rest,
To shelter my head in her ivory breast;
And a charming wife she was and is to me,
And I was born with her to plough the C !
The air was hot and fair the morn,
In the lecherous hour when I was born;
The Midwife too a tale he told,
That I was born for a rake so bold;
And never was heard such a shindy wild,
As welcomed to life the frisky child.
I've lived, since then, a frisky life,
With a lovely creature for a wife,
With swellish togs and blunt to range,
To get a woman by way of change ;
And the Devil, whenever he comes for me,
He'll find me— he'll find me in the open C !
BANG-UP SONGSTER. 13 MY SARY's BOTTLE!
Tune—The
Flower o'Dunblane.
Let Bacchanals boast of the juice of the bottle
And say, that from wine all their happiness
flows,
With wine they are welcome to dampen the
throttle.
But I have a balm sweet as drops from
the rose !
The charm to ensnare ye, it flows from my
Sary,
But not from the all killing juice of her lip;
But a spot of my Sary, so lovely and
airy,
Its effects might make even a Parson to
skip.
Wine they may say is the senses delighting,
And to lighten the head why it never will
fail,
But my Sary's balm has a far greater power
For as well as the head, it can
lighten
the tail !
The corkscrew when into the bottle you put
it,
It loosens the cork, and rich balm ooses
out,
So my Sary's bottle if you prick it or touch
it,
14
BANG-UP SONGSTER. The tide that runs forth is supreme or
about.
My Sary's a girl so delightful and pretty,
That all who behold them, must freely
confess,
With charms so transcendant, indeed, 'tis a
pity ,
That they should be hid by that silly thing
dress !
But if they were not, ev'ry youth in the
nation,
Ugly or handsome, bandy or tall ;
Would be driven half mad by the sweet contemplation,
And how could a poor damsel satisfy all.
I'll name not her bubbies, so white and enchanting,
I'll name not her belly, so plump and so
round ;
I'll name not her buttocks which set the
heart panting,
I'll name not her thighs, though so fair
I'll be bound,
But the spot of all others I would be diving
Is a place never yet enter'd into by man !
It's fring'd round the edge, and it boasts of
red lining,
A stream gurgles through it,—now guess
it who can.
BANG-UP SONGSTER.
15 THE SHICKSTERS CHAUNT.
A FAVORITE ORIGINAL FLASH SONG,
Air—Nice
Young Maidens.
Here's a rummy lot of us,
Nice young shicksters !
Here's a rummy lot of us,
Prime young shicksters !
Here's a rummy lot of us,
Members of the
privy purse,
For the spit already truss'd.
Fine young shicksters.
We are out upon the mal,
Rare young shicksters ;
We are out upon the mal,
Fine young shicksters !
We are out upon the mal,
Saucy Peg and leary Sal,
Looking out to get a pal,
Nice young shicksters.
We sells our wirtue wery cheap,
Prime young shicksters !
We sells our wirtue wery cheap,
Nice young shicksters ;
We sells our wirtue wery cheap,
A tanner just to have a peep,
A bob ail night with us to sleep !
Nice young shicksters.
16
BANG-UP SONGSTER. Of lush we nightly take our fill,
Nice young shicksters ;
Of lush we nightly take our fill,
Nice young shicksters !
Of lush we nightly take our fill,
And 'cause our tongues we can't keep
still,
We get a month to grind the mill !
Nice young shicksters.
We've often
warm'd
thro' our desire,
Nice young shicksters :
We're often warm'd thro' our desire,
Nice young shicksters ;
We're often warm'd thro' our desire,
A thing that we don't much admire,
But
Eady can put out the fire,
For nice young shicksters !
We'll petition Parliament,
Nice young shicksters ;
We'll petition Parliament,
Nice young shicksters;
We'll petition Parliament,
And with a little argument,
They'll let us frisk to our content,
Prime young shicksters.
BANG-UP SONGSTER. 17 THE DILDOE!
OR, THE AMOROUS MAIDS.
Tune—Three
Flies.
There was three maids who long'd for man,
Sarah, Suke, and Mary Ann ;
To speak their wants they were affraid,
And yet a pretty fuss they made,
For lecherous joys they pined each day,
'Till they fretted all their fat away ;
They itch'd—and long'd—a deal, I wot,
For a little bit of you know what!
But they too randy got by half,
I can't sing if you do chaff,
So shut up your mouths and list to me,
Cock-a-doodle doo, hey diddle dee ;
And never let this truth go by,
There's nothing like genuine lux-u-ry !
Their amorous wants increased each hour,
They scarcely could contain their power,
Their form grew thin and their cheeks got
wan,
And their spirits too were nearly gone,
At length a scheme they thought on plain,
A scheme to somewhat ease their pain,
They bought a dildoe, their heat to smother
And they kindly tickled up one another.
They too, &c.
18 BANG-UP SONGSTER. It happen'd next room to them folks say,
A frisky country lad did lay ;
Who often listen'd to their sighs,
And heard them too with some surprise !
At length in the boards he bored a hole,
And peeping thro', he then, by gole,
Beheld them at their amorous sport,
And made his passion rise in short.
They too, &c.
Now Giles he was a cutish lad,
And very soon a scheme he had,
By which he might these damsels cheat,
And give his lecherous thoughts a treat.
Next day when they were in the room,
And with the dildoe in a fume,
He bored the hole a little more wide,
And a
certain something in did
glide,
But they, &c.
This certain something, tho' so sly,
Did quickly catch the maidens' eye,
They guess'd its use, and with a grin,
One after the other they popt it in !
Bliss sparkled in their eyes I'm sure,
For they'd never felt such joy before ;
So the dildoe soon they threw away,
Resolv'd to come there every day.
But they, &c.
Thus Giles indulged his rude desire.
And quench'd the damsels burning fire,
BANG-UP SONGSTER. 19
For they came there regular once a day,
To put this
certain something
away !
The maids their spirits got again,
And they found out it's very plain,
Though dildoes may some comfort bring,
Still there is nothing like the real thing.
But they, &c. THE SQUIRE'S THINGUMBOB,
AND
KITTY'S WHAT YOU MAY CALL I T .
AN ENTIRE NEW AMOROUS SONG.
Tune—Bow,
wow, wow.
One day as Squire Ticklecock was in the
meadow straying,
He met with little Kitty who was sportively
a playing,
But as she was runing down the hill—you'll
say 'twas rather funny,
Her foot it slipt, so down she fell and he
beheld her —what
you may call it!
Fol lol, &c.
In haste he ran to help her up, and standing
there quite mute, he
Gazed with many a burning thought upon
her lustrous beauty;
4.
20 BANG-UP SONGSTER. He prest her cheek, he felt her breast, it
did not seem to shock her,
So getting bolder from the same, why he
pull'd out his —thingumbob
!
Fol lol, &c.
They walk'd together o'er the fields, and
coming to a grove, sir,
The Squire ventur'd in good terms to tell to
her his love, sir,
Says he my darling angel, your charmes
have really struck me.
Ah, Squire, says she, I plainly see, that
you're inclined to—what
you, &c.
Fol lol, &c.
Now Kitty when she said the same, she
blush'd like any rose, sir,
But the throbbing of her bosom did her
willingness disclose, sir,
So without more to do, egad, upon the grass
she falls, sir,
And while the Squire her bubbies prest,
she also, felt his—thingumbob.
Fol lol, &c.
They neither of them lost much time in
talking or in courting,
But soon within each other's arms, they
were amorously sporting.
BANG-UP SONGSTER. 2 1 The Squire was young and handsome, and
a proper cunning joker,
And so without more bother, why he began
to—what
you may call it.
Fol lol,
&c.
Such pressing and carressing, and kissing
without measure,
Says Kitty, Oh, I'm fainting, I shall surely
die with pleasure !
But all the Squire could utter was, Oh, dear
me, alas ! sir,
He prest her closer to him, and she heaved
up her—what
you may call it.
Fol lol, &c.
So damsels if you'd pleasure find, oh, do not
be afraid, now,
Remember there is nothing so disgusting as
a maid now,
Without the sweets of luxury, no damsel
should be stuck, sir,
And in spite of all that folks may say, there
is nothing like a—thingumbob.
Fol lol, &c.
THE RAKE'S REGISTER.
Air—Rampant Moll.
Oh, I have led a rakish life,
Through fun and fashion going ;
22 BANG-UP SONGSTER. Full of joy, devoid of strife,
I'm known to every blowing;
And if you'll list awhile to me,
I'll tell you of the myst'ry,
Of all that has occurr'd to me,
I'll give you quite a hist'ry.
Fol lol d lol, &c.
At seventeen I began my fun,
A rogue I was completely ;
I arter every girl did run,
And trick'd them very neatly ;
Young Fanny was a sprightly lass,
Who made my love get stronger ;
I got her one day on the grass,
And she was a maid no longer !
Fol lol de lol, &c.
At eighteen I got still more bold,
Seducing girls by dozens ;
I kiss'd my aunt, tho' rather old,
And I kiss'd the whole of my cousins !
I got a little girl with kid,
For which I was nicely polted.
And because I would not pay for it,
I up to London bolted,
Tol lol de lol, &c.
At nineteen a widow courted me,
And sought to gain my favour ;
And as some store of gold had she,
Why I resolv'd to have her ;
BANG-UP SONGSTER. 23 I married her and got her pelf.
With which I soon was flashing;
In a month I buried the silly old elf,
And came out then quite dashing.
Tol lol de lol, &c.
At twenty I was quite a swell,
And went to swellish places ;
The
belle bore me, and I bore the
bell,
At prize fights and at races !
But going one night with a d—d old
mot,
To quell my wild desire ;
The woeful P— I nicely got,
And soon was all on fire !
Tol lol de lol, &c.
At twenty one my blunt was gone,
The girl's I could not trounce them;
At twenty-two I was quite hard up.
So I was forced to bounce them ;
At twenty-three my uncle died,
His cash on me bestowing !
At twenty-four I was gay beside,
And kept my fancy blowen.
Tol lol de lol, &c.
At twenty-five my money fail'd,
Which very much did grieve me ;
For the shicksters I so long had toil'd,
Ungratefully did tease me ;
At twenty-six, up to my tricks,
I met with pretty Nancy,
24 BANG-UP SONGSTER. So kept me to do her odd tricks,
And I became her fancy.
Tol lol de lol, &c.
At twenty-seven she ran away,
Along with another slim beau :
And left me all her debts to pay,
So I was clap'd in limbo !
At twenty-eight I got all right,
With Sarah, I must mention her.
Because she yields me such delight,
Besides I am her pensioner.
Tol lol de lol, &c.
THE GIRL OF THE TOWN.
AN ENTIRE NEW FLASH PARODY ON
I am a Friar of orders grey.
I am a voman vot valks the town,
Vith my fine flash boa and silken gown,
My cheeks they are painted and look so fine,
For I uses the wery best of carmine,
I'm ne'er out of luck, for enjoyment I pant,
When a man pays me fairly, much pleasure
I grant,
And why I'm so fat, the reason I'll tell,
On the money I earns I live wery vell !
Then vot Countess or duchess of wealth and
renown,
Comes it half so fat as a girl of the town ?
As a girl,
&c.
BANG-UP SONGSTER. 25 Every evening I dresses so grand,
And valks my beat, vhich is in the strand,
I looks so pretty, so neat and so sly,
The coves feels so queer as they passes me
bye,
I'm clothed in satin down to my shin,
Vith Hodges' Cordial, I'm lined vithin;
I never am cheekish to any von,
So the "Blue devils" never tells me to
" move on'',
Then, vot Countess or duchess of wealth
and renown,
Cuts it half so fat as a gal of the town ?
As a girl, &c.
MY WIFE'S FUNNY THING.
Air—The
Campbells are coming.
My wife's got a thing, such a rare funny
thing,
It sets my heart dancing while of it I sing :
She keeps it so sly, and I her cannot blame,
It's a comical thing, but I won't tell it's
name.
It's open, it's small, and to me it is dear,
It's two lips of coral, 'tis cover'd with hair ;
It's soft, and it's balmy, when on it I lay,
It takes all my senses and breath quite
away.
My wife's &c.
26
BANG-UP SONGSTER. It's a kind of a grotto, so lovely and fair,
There's a grove at the entrance to keep out
the air,
It's tempting and pretty to every one's view,
And sometimes a stream gurgles quietly
through,
It's kindness, indeed, any person might win.
When I'm stiff and I'm cold, it with joy takes
me in ;
It quivers and wriggles, and wags so about,
Till it causes the stream of delight to flow
out.
My wife's, &c.
When'er she's at home, or when'er she goes
out,
This funny thing with her she takes about,
And to keep it secure from vulgarity's eye,
She under her petticoats hides it so sly ;
Whene'er I'm by sorrow and horror opprest,
I fly to my wife's funny thing then for rest,
And nothing such heavenly comforts can
bring,
As I feel when I'm prest to my wife's funny
thing.
My wife's, &c.
I care not for titles, I care not for pelf,
These I would give to some covetous elf :
I've only one treasure, of which I now sing
That treasure indeed is my wife's funny
thing !
BANG-UP SONGSTER. 27 When death shews his face, be it night, be it
Come at what time or whenever it may, [day
When the dart of destruction he to me doth
bring,
He'll see me prest close to my wife's funny
thing.
My wife's, &c
MY LORD'S LONG LEDGER,
Tune—Over
the water to Charley.
My Lord Dimpledaisey was rakish inclined,
And my lady declared he was blameful;
Because as she said,
his outlays
were too
bad,
And his
spendings were lately
quite
shameful.
My lord had a
ledger
which she wanted
much,
To see the account of his spendings,
But my lord would not let her his
long ledger touch,
Which gave her heart many sad rendings.
Tol lol, &c.
Says my lady "my lord, you make rather
too free,
Your manners I really deplore, sir,
Once all you spent, you spent freely
with me
But now you spend all out of doors, sir !
28 BANG-UP SONGSTER. Of money I'm sure we a plenty have got,
But of sorrow I daily do taste, sir,
For I think as every good wife ought to do,
Men ought to spend nothing in waste, sir.
Tol lol, &c.
Says my lord to my lady " your tongue goes
too fast,
And, indeed, you'd not venture to snub
once ;
What I once spent with you, it is time it
was past.
Or you really would soon waste my substance
!
Your days if you liked might pass equally
sweet,
Aye, even much sweeter than honey ;
For we ever contrive to make
both ends meet
And don't I allow you
pin money ?
Tol de rol, &c,
Says my lady " you, my lord, every day use
me worse,
My character you sadly dandle ;
Besides you well know you've a snug
privy
purse,
Which I am not suffer'd to
handle !
Once too of pleasure I plenty could have,
But instead of it now, it so falls, sir ;
I'm moped in the house, which is dull as
the grave,
I can't have no routs nor no
balls,
sir.
Fol de rol, &c.
BANG-UP SONGSTER. 29 Says my lord, " come this argument, pray
let us strike,
From this hour my
privy puse
if you like,
And my
ledger shall be at your
pleasure !
In future the greatest of comfort we'll
share,
And always will stick to one tether ;
We'll quarrell no more about spending my
dear,
For in future we'll both
spend together.''
Tol de rol, &c.
UNDER THE SHIFT,
AN ORIGINL FLASH PARODY ON
Under the Rose.
If enjoyment you'd seek, the way I can tell,
Though if you're a rake, you may guess it
as well;
On a female friend nature has granted a gift
And the charm she possesses is,
under the
shift.
Under the shift, &c.
As Robin, the Miller, was was walking one
day,
He wander'd to where little Patty did lay,
The veil that her charms hid, he ventured to
lift,
And in less than a minute was
under the
shift. Under
the shift, &c.
30 BANG-UP SONGSTER. The damsel awoke from her sleep in surprise,
Transport and fear sparkled in her blue
eyes,
" Ah, Robin," said she, " I can well see
your drift,
" But don't be alarm'd, pray keep,
under
the shift.
Under the shift, &c.
Nine months from that hour of transport and
joy,
Young Patty brought forth a most beautiful
boy,
But indeed she'd no cause to rejoice at the
gift,
For it proved that she'd had something
under
the shift.
Under the shift, &c.
THE OLD WOMAN'S MUTTON,
Tune—Barclay
and Perkins' Drayman.
In London town there did reside,
A maid named Polly Trueman,
Who for those pleasures daily sigh'd,
Which man can yield to woman !
Full forty years she'd pined in vain,
None cared for her a button ;
Because she was so very plain,
No one would touch her mutton.
Tol de rol, &c.
BANG-UP SONGSTER. 31 A butcher who was fond of meat,
She first did cast her eye on;
But though she sent him letters sweet,
He doom'd her still to sigh cm.
No love in him the maid could trace,
In scorn by her he'd strut on ;
For she had such an ugly face,
He would not touch her mutton.
Fol de rol, &c.
A tailor then this maid did choose,
His form she saw enough in ;
And thought because he was a
goose,
He must be fond of
stuffing ;
But he in scorn turn'd up his nose,
And such contempt did put on ;
She could not get the least repose,
He would not touch her mutton.
Tol de rol, &c.
A cobbler she then tried to gain.
For he was stout and kind too ;
But all she tried, alas, was vain,
The cobbler he was blind too ;
For though he was a man of
wax,
In pleasure quite a glutton,
He scorned the whole of her attacks,
He would not touch her mutton.
Tol de rol, &c.
A baker she beheld with joy,
And thought him
none so dusty,
32 BANG-UP SGNGSTTR. But when his peace she did annoy,
The baker soon got
crusty,
His fate with her he'd not
enroll,
He made her quite a butt on ;
In spite of all her teers by gole,
He would not touch her mutton !
Fol de rol, &c.
A tallow chandler
melted
her,
He was so gay and witty ;
But still his heart she could not stir,
He would not yield her pity ;
She was too old he said for him,
He did not care a button ;
Though she of love was to the brim,
He would not touch her mutton.
Tol de rol, &c.
A chummy she then tried to win,
He came to sweep her chimney :
But he at all her prayers did grin!
He did indeed by Gemini ;
She went to kiss his smutty face,
But her he threw his soot on ;
Then with a laugh run from the place,
He would not touch her mutton.
Tol de rol, &c.
An undertaker next appear'd,
Whom she thought soon to capture
But very soon the maid despair'd,
She could not him enrapture :
BANG-UP SONGSTER. 33 The poor old lady he'd not have,
Though all her charms she put on ;
He look'd at her confounded
grave,
He would not touch her mutton.
Tol de rol, &c.
In vain she tried to get a beau,
All with scorn espied h e r ;
And so her heart it droop'd with woe,
To think they should deride her.
No more poor Polly Trueman tried,
She did not care a button :
So in despair at last she died,
And the doctors had her mutton.
Tol de rol, &c.
ELLEN'S RED ROSE.
Tune—The
red, red Rose.
Young Ellen had a red, red rose,
Which ever proudly blew ;
Erect its head, so lively red,
And pleasing to the view !
She often held it to her breast,
With rapture and delight;
She took it when she went to rest,
And nurs'd it every night.
Thorns grow round this red, red rose,
At them she would not stick,
For Ellen lately had, somehow,
Got used unto a prick !
34
BANG-UP SONGSTER. And when it droop'd, with pleasure she
Would press it—'till, it's said,
The rose would quite enliven'd be,
And boldly lift it's head.
A little pot with moss around,
That any rose might win;
Fair Ellen had, as I've heard say,
To keep the red rose in !
And there she'd plant it with her hand,
It look'd so very neet,
There it so gaily e'er did stand,
And dropt its dew drops in't !
Matilda, fair, had got a bower,
She wish'd that rose to grace;
And, so resolv'd from that same head,
To plant it in that place :
One night to Ellen's bed she crept,
And stole the rose away ;
And in her bower the red, red rose,
She kept both night and day.
WILL YOU SLEEP WITH ME, MY
DEAR ?
A NEW AMOROUS CHAUNT.
Air—
Will you come to the Bower."
Will you sleep with me my dear, to night?
for I am
nutts on you,
Though you may search thro' ev'ry crib,
you'll find no lad so true ;
BANG-UP SONGSTER.
35 At mother H's, we can get a very tidy bed,
My body shall your mattras be, my pillow,
be your head !
Then, will you, will you, will you, will
you, sleep with me my dear ?
This night I am determined dear, that you
with me shall sleep,
I can't resist temptation, since I have had
a peep ;
There's many that would jump at what I say
my lovely Fan,
For amongst the dashing blowens I am
quite a fancy man !
Then, will you, &c.
Before that we go in to snoose, as I likes to
come it stout,
If you are only willing, we will have a rare
blow out,
Of leg of beef and alamode, you shall eat
while you can smack,
And oysters—'cause you know my dear,
they're
strength'ning to the back !
Then, will you, &c,
There's many mots I know, would with
pleasure with me lay,
And think the pleasure I gave them, was
very famous pay ;
But as I like you very much, quite handsom
I'll behave,
I'll pay a crown down for the room, and a
cooter you
shall have ! [Then, &c.
36
BANG-UP SONGSTER. I've got a little something, and I've got it
all for you,
You'll say when you behold it that, much
service it can do;
It's size is very pleasing, and it is not very
small,
And if you'll be good natured, love, why,
you shall have it all.
Then will you, &c.
Then only think, my darling, if the bargain
you will strike,
You shall tickle me, and play with me, and
do whate'er you like ;
So give consent without delay, and you shall
be my mate,
Or I must get another, for indeed I cannot
wait.
Then, will you,
&c.
THE BALD HEADED FRIAR.
Tune—The
Sprig of Shilelah.
A maiden there was, as the story is told,
And she fell in love with a friar so bold,
With his bald headed napper, and sly rum
ti tum ;
She lov'd him so dear, 'cause he had a bald
head,
With the hair just around it, it charm'd her
'tis said,
The friar he lov'd her as warmly—and so,
BANG-UP SONGSTER.
37 She had a snug cell where he oft used to go,
With his bald headed napper, and sly rum
ti turn.
The friar was holy and so was the dame,
So he felt towards her a true holy flame,
With his bald headed napper, and sly rum
ti tum.
He took a strange fancy to her secret cell,
He always was in it, he lik'd it so well ;
And she was inclined e'er to humour his
whim,
So her cell you must know was e'er open to
him,
With his bald headed napper, and sly rum
ti turn.
He was very upright, so no one could demur,
And besides he was always most
upright
with her,
With his bald headed napper, and sly rum
ti turn.
About the force of the
spirit
he often did
treat,
And always said grace before
he had meat ;
An honor he was to the whole of his sect,
For no friar was ever more staunch or
erect,
With his bald headed napper, and sly rum
ti turn.
One day to the friar she went to confess,
And he knew that she wanted a little—I
guess,
38 BANG-UP SONGSTER. Of his bald headed napper, and sly rum
ti tum ;
So daughter, said he, 'tis a folly to grieve,
Be thankful for what you are going to
receive,
So he grasp'd her waist firmly without more
delay,
And they very soon were in a right
holy way!
With his bald headed napper, and sly rum
ti tum.
It happen'd a friar was strolling that way,
Who saw them enjoying their amorous play,
With his bald headed napper, and sly rum
ti tum !
Hallo, holy father, what means this I see ?
Be silent you fool, and pray listen to me,
This woman's bedevil'd, so don't make a
rout,
I'm using my skill
just to drive Satan out.
With my bald headed napper, and sly rum
ti tum.
THOSE LONDON MOTS.
An original Flash Parody on " Those
Evening Bells.
Those London mots, those leary mots,
They turf it o'er the streets in lots;
In Piccadilly, or Oxford-street,
Those London mots you're sure to meet.
BANG-UP SONGSTER.
39 In flashy toggs so fine array'd,
They drive about a roaring trade,
If you can sport a bob or two,
Those London mots will go with you.
But often with despair they're struck,
That is when they are out of luck,
Bereft of scran, they curse their lots,
And d—n their trade—poor London mots.
If you their love and charms would win,
Blow out their kite on rum or gin ;
Or guttle half a dozen pots.
For that's the stuff for London mots.
But after all it's hard I say,
To have to
hoof
it night and day ;
I pity your unhappy lots,
And sing your praises, London mots.
POOR LITTLE CALEB THE SMALL.
Tune—Oh,
Cruel.
As little Caleb Thompson was parading up
the strand,
He met a flaming shickster who was togg'd
out very grand;
He felt his blood, at such a lass, to get quite
in a glow,
So he boldly ask'd her, if on him, some ease
she could bestow !
Tol de dol, &c.
40
BANG-UP SONGSTER. Says she I'm very willing your entreaties
to releive,
But you must pay me for it, and pray what
can you give ?
Says he, what is your charge my dear? come
tell me in a trice,;
Two-pence an inch,
says she, no more, that
always is my price !
Tol de dol, &c.
Says he if that's your price, indeed I'm sure
it's very cheap,
So I vow I'll ease my courage now before
I go to sleep,
I've only got two inches I declare, and nothing
more,
And
four-pence cannot ruin me, of
that I'm
very sure !
Tol de dol, &c.
Having both agreed to this, they neither
made a dust,
Says she come to the lamp post for I must
inspect you first,
Poor Caleb pull'd his small clothes down,
the groat he then did pay,
Which the blowen collar'd in a trice, and
then she cut away,
Tol de dol, &c.
Poor Caleb with his breeches down was in
a woeful plight,
And swore, with rage, when he beheld the
blowen quit his sight;
BANG-UP SONGSTER.
41 Said he to be thus taken in, indeed it is not
fit,
So as I can do nothing else, I'll have a
lively --------
Tol de dol, &c.
So down he squatted 'neath the lamp, but
scarce had he began,
When up to him, a new Policeman in a fury
ran,
And without the trouble taking, his agrievances
to state,
He hiked off Caleb in a trice, before a
Magistrate.
Tol de dol, &c.
In vain to try to clear himself poor Caleb he
began,
The lobster swore and very true, he caught
him at the fun ;
The Magistrate resolved he was, to give to
him a pill,
So he sent poor Caleb for a month to grind
the treading mill .
Tol de dol, &c.
So lads when you are rather warm, and
should a lady meet ;
Like Caleb Thompson, ne'er expose your
person in the street,
At my advice you, very likely, all may chance
to grin,
But like him, you first may be found
out, and alter
taken in !
Fol de dol, &c.
42 BANG-UP SONGSTER. HERE'S TO THE SHICKSTER OF
FRISKY FIFTEEN.
Air—Here's to the Maiden.
Here's to the shickster of frisky fifteen,
Here's to the shickster of twenty ;
Here's to the shickster who rolls on the
green,
And is willing enough to content ye !
Let the toast pass, drink to each lass,
Who will frisk it or play on the hay or the
grass.
Here's to the shickster so tender and smart,
Who yields us transcendant delight, sirs ;
Who will handle the thing that she loves in
her heart,
And put it with joy out of sight, sirs.
Let the toast,
&c.
Here's to the shickster with touch soft as
silk,
Here's to the shickster so pretty;
Good luck to the trump, but bad luck to the
bilk,
May she never meet any one's pity.
Let the toast pass, &c.
Here's to the shickster who'll collar her
whack,
And will play with her man beyond
measure;
BANG-UP SONGSTER. 43 Here's to the shickster who'll lay on her
back,
And say " dearest kiss me with pleasure.
Let the toast, &c.
Here's to the shickster of Coventry-street,
The Haymarket, Quadrant, and all, sirs ;
Here's to each skickster who walks in the
street,
Flashy, short, shabby, or tall, sirs:
Let the toast, &c.
Here's to all shicksters of ev'ry degree,
Here's to each rake of renown, sirs;
Bad luck to the kiddy whoe'er he may be,
Who'd not kiss any girl on the town, sirs.
Let the toast, &c.
Mrs. GRUMBLETON's TWO MOUTHS
Air—Nae
luck about the House.
One night as Mrs. Grumbleton
Was stepping into bed ;
Her husband touched her ruby lips,
And thus to her he said !
" My dearest chuck I feel quite strong,
My courage down can't keep ;
You know full well for what I long,
Before I go to sleep !
Tol de rol, &c.
44
BANG-UP SONGSTER. Says Mrs. Grumbleton " indeed,
I'll not do no such thing ;
My
mouths so very ill you feed,
To death you will me bring !
How can you sir, expect that I,
Your amorous wants should smother ?
When while one mouth to fill you try,
You always
starve the other!"
Tol de rol, &c.
" Last night, you know I Iong'd for
meat
But you, you nasty glutton ;
Not only all the
beef
you eat,
But also boned
my mutton.
I'm sure this usage is too had,
How can you make amends ?
A woman, sir, you know full well,
Wants
stuffing at both ends."
Tol de rol, &c.
Says Mr. Grumbleton, " I pray,
My dear, don't me deride ;
I always do my best I say,
Yet you're not satisfied !"
Says she, " your story's false, sir, quite
And I must give it nay ;
I own you
stuff me all the night
But you starve me all the day.
Tol de rol, &c.
" There's plenty of women I can see,
Who get uncommon fat ;
BANG-UP SONGSTER.
45 While look at me, poor luckless me,
I'm thin as any rat !
Some with bellies, swell'd so round,
It proves this very true,—
Their husbands must their
bellies fill.
Much better, sir, than
you.
Tol de rol, &c.
Says Mr. Grumbleton, " I'm sure,
I cram you to the brim;
And what can any man do more,
Than nature's given to him ?
You're stuff'd sufficient every way,
But tell me what of that ?
You may stuff some women night and day,
Yet they never will get fat."
Tol de rol, &c.
'' But let us grumble now no more,
I'll soon make matters right:
To fill your belly well I'm sure,
I'll stuff you all the night !"
So to each others arms they flew,
No more did they deride :
And Mrs. in the morning own'd,
She was perfectly satisfied.
Tol de rol, &c.
46
BANG-UP SONGSTER. CONFESSIONS OF A CHAMBER POT.
Air—Callaghans
Brallaghans.
A chamber pot crack'd, old, and dirty,
On a heap, full of rubbish, was thrown ;
When a dandy was passing along there,
And heard it's most pitiful moan;
Destruction determined to hinder,
He pick'd it up straight and went off,
It was thrown from a bawdy house window,
And the handle was quite broken off !
Ye libertines all in your glory,
If a taste for such things you have
Listen awhile to the story, [got;
I sing of an old chamber pot.
Says the pot, " I 'm obliged for your feeling,
My very best friend you have been ;
So to you I will now be revealing,
The many strange
things I have seen ;
I was bought by a new married couple,
Who expected to meet with much bliss ;
And soon I was in my glory,
And brimful I was too of
Ye libertines, &c.
When her husband was out, would you think
His spouse had a man on the sly ; [it.
I can prove what I say in a minute,
For a stranger oft
look'd into I!
BANG-UP SONGSTER.
47 My master one night found them toying,
He trembled with rage and with dread ;
And while they themselves were enjoying.
He threw me plump over their head.
Ye libertines, &c.
In boarding school next I was handed,
And great was the pleasure I had ;
For of pretty young maids there were plenty
Whose beauty I own drove me mad !
They trembled at sight of a man, sir,
And happy they'd not let them be ;
But all
that they had, prove I can,
sir,
They show'd very freely to me.
Ye libertines, &c.
What lovely young
things
light and
airy,
Would often squat down on my face ;
While a rivulet brighter than
amber,
Would flow into me with such grace !
A monarch, I'm sure, might me envy,
For they were so lovely and fair ;
How great would have been the enjoyment,
For a very short time to be there!
Ye libertines, &c.
To the bawdy ken next I was taken,
And soon I had cause to deplore ;
By all my past pleasures forsaken,
I was used then by every w-----e !
A swell did one night undo me,
Which caused me to come unto you,
48
BANG-UP SONGSTER. He stept his foot slap bang into me,
Then out of the window me threw.
Ye libertines all in your glory.
If a taste for such things you hare got,
You'll own 'tis a comical story,
I've sung 'bout an old
chamber pot.
W. West, Printer, 57, Wych Street.
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