llow their Fashion,
They're none of our Sect, nor of our Elect,
Nor none of our Congregation.

But when the time was come,
That she was to be laid;
It was no very great Crime,
Committed by her they said:
'Cause they did know, and she did show,
'Twas done by a Friend and a Brother,
But a very great Sin they said it had been,
If it had been done by another.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

As Oyster _Nan_ stood by her Tub,
To shew her vicious Inclination;
She gave her noblest Parts a Scrub,
And sigh'd for want of Copulation:
A Vintner of no little Fame,
Who excellent Red and White can sell ye,
Beheld the little dirty Dame,
As she stood scratching of her Belly.

Come in, says he, you silly Slut,
'Tis now a rare convenient Minute;
I'll lay the Itching of your Scut,
Except some greedy Devil be in it:
With that the Flat-capt Fusby smil'd,
And would have blush'd, but that she cou'd not;
Alass! says she, we're soon beguil'd,
By Men to do those things we shou'd not.

From Door they went behind the Bar,
As it's by common Fame reported;
And there upon a Turkey Chair,
Unseen the loving Couple sported:
But being call'd by Company,
As he was taking pains to please her;
I'm coming, coming Sir, says he,
My Dear, and so am I, says she, Sir.

Her Mole-hill Belly swell'd about,
Into a Mountain quickly after;
And when the pretty Mouse crept out,
The Creature caus'd a mighty Laughter:
And now she has learnt the pleasing Game,
Altho' much Pain and Shame it cost her;
She daily ventures at the same,
And shuts and opens like an Oyster.

_The_ IRISH _Jigg: Or, the Night Ramble._

[Music]

One Night in my Ramble I chanc'd to see,
A thing like a Spirit, it frightened me;
I cock'd up my Hat and resolv'd to look big,
And streight fell a Tuning the _Irish Jigg_.

The Devil drew nearer and nearer in short,
I found it was one of the Petticoat sort;
My Fears being over, I car'd not a Fig,
But still I kept tuning the _Irish Jigg_.

And then I went to her, resolving to try her;
I put her agog of a longing desire;
I told her I'd give her a Whip for her Gig,
And a Scourge to the Tune of the _Irish Jigg_.

Then nothing but Dancing our Fancy could please,
We lay on the Grass and Danc'd at our ease;
I down'd with my Breeches and off with my Whigg,
And we fell a Dancing the _Irish Jigg_.

I thank you, kind Sir, for your kindness, said she,
The Scholar's as Wise as the Master