People, Society & Culture of Tunbridge Wells in the 18th Century & later.

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Beau Cursitor, well fraight with Clarret,
The Fumes of which had climb his Garret,
Who at such times takes wondrous pains,
To show 'tis furnish'd with no Brains :
Thus soundly pickled in French Juice,
He staggers to the Damsel's House,
Where Wine and English Liquores brew'd
Of Malt, were sold for humane Good,
Which drew the Rural Slaves from Plough,
From treading Hey and Barly-Mow,
And Swains and Shepherds from their Herds,
With sun-burnt Looks, and bristled Beards,
To wet their Whistles with her Liquor,
And make their heavy Souls the quicker.
A Crowd of these were got together,
With Faces Tan'd like Bullocks leather,
Roaring out Country-Songs and Catches,
Over their belly Jugs and Gotches;
Sometimes the Children in the Wood
Was sung, till some both Cry'd and Spew'd;
And then the Pie sat in the Pear-tree,
Was bawl'd so loud it wou'd have fear'd-yee,
And when that good old Ditty's done,
The Fox, we'll Catch him Boys anon,
As they were thus in merry mood,
Consuming Malt for th' publick Good,
The Fidler (nay, but hold a little,
I should have found some other Title;
However pardon me this time,
And when 'twill fairly come in Rhime,
I'll make amends, and with submission,
Will call you by and by Musician)
Was Courting in a room hard by,
Dandling his Mistress on his thigh,
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