A Pleasant New Ballad

In Harvest-time I walked
hard by a Corn-Close side;
I hearing people talk,
A looked about, and spy'd

A Young man and a maid,
together they did lye;
When you hear it told,
you'l laugh full heartily.

She was as buxsome a Lass
as any in our Town;
She will not let you pass,
but she'l call you, to sit down.

A Taylor passing by,
she hit him on the heele,
You are very welcome Sir,
to sit you down and feele.

What money's in my Purse,
at your command shall be,
If you will go along
to Marson wake with me.

He hearing her say so,
and seeing her to smile,
Was charmed with her, so
he sate him down a while.

And having groped her Purse,
and taken all her money,
He grop'd again, and mist,
and caught her by the Coney.

Where am I now? (quoth he)
another I have found,
Its not the same, quoth he,
for this is tufted round.

If it be tufted round, quoth she,
there is good reason for't,
There is such treasure lyes,
will make a Taylor sport.

He hearing her say so,
being a frollicksome Lad,
Was willing for to know
more of the fringed bag.

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,
the depth of it to measure,
You'l find the Purse so deep,
you'l hardly come to th' treasure.

He hearing her say so,
it put him to a stand;
She seeing him dismaid,
she took his Yard in hand:

Is this your Yard, quoth she,
is this your Taylors measure?
It is too short for me,
it is not Standard-Measure.

The Taylor being abashed,
she told him that it was
More fitter for a man,
than such a penny Ass.

She bids him now be gone,
since he could make no sport,
And said, thou art too dull
to enter such a fort.

She looking fiercely at him,
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,
For sending to her School
such an unfit Lad.

You Taylors that attempt
fringed bags to measure,
Be sure your Yards be sealed,
and full Standard-Measure.