The Pretty Maid of Chelmsford

A pretty maid both kind and fair,
Dwells in Chelmsford town,
Her pleasing smiles, her easy air,
Engages fop and clown.

Being accosted t'other day,
By a clumsy 'squire,
Who ask'd her if she knew the way
To quench a raging fire.

Water, Sir, reply'd the maid,
Will quench it in a trice,
O no, said he, you little jade,
I've try'd that once or twice.
Then Sir, said she, 'tis past my skill,
To tell you what will do;
I'm sure, said he, you know what will;
There's nothing can but you.

Alas-a-day what do you mean,
Reply'd the pretty fair;
I'd have you try it once again;
You never shou'd despair.

Despair I cannot, cry'd the 'squire,
While you are in my sight,
'Tis you must quench the burning fire,
You set it first alight.

Then strait he clasp'd her round the waist,
And forc'd from her a kiss,
Ho! ho! said she, is that your taste;
Then pray you, Sir, take this.

And with a pail, plac'd at the door,
She sluic'd the amorous 'squire;
Your'e welcome, Sir, to this and more,
To quench your raging fire.