A Mad Crew; Or, That shall be tried.  
To the tune of, Pudding-pie Doll.  

 
Walking of late through London streets,  
A crew of good-fellows together meets,  
Not one of them sober, if not belyde,  
Well, quoth the Maltman, that shall be tried.   

From thence I travelled, to see a new Play,  
Whereas an old Widow in gallant array,  
Sat pleasantly smirking, like a young Bride,  
Well, quoth the Fiddler, that shall be tried,   

Then to a Tobacco-house, smoking hot  
Went I, and called for my Pipe and my Pot,  
The Weed was strong, but hardly well dried,  
Well, quoth the Horse-courser, that shall be tried.   

The Market of Cheap, I fain would then see,  
Where soo●e a fine Cutpurse unmonyed me,  
And ventured a joint, to Tybourne to ride,  
Well, quoth the Hangman, now that shall be tried.   

I afterward went, and took up mine Inn,  
Whereas I found out, an Aunt of my kin,  
Who feared no lashing, though all were espied,  
Well, quoth the Beadle, now that shall be tried.   

I met with a Gallant, that sold all his Land,  
And after took money up, bound by Band,  
Who when the day came, the payment denied,  
well, qd. the Sergeant, now that shall be tried.   

I fain would then see a close Bowling Alley,  
Where to a fine Cheater, I paid for my folly,  
His slights were so nimble, they could not be spied  
Well, quoth justice too-good, that shall be tried.   

Moor Fields being pleasant, the same I would see,  
where Maids of our City, still whiting clothes be,  
For forty weeks after, my love I there tied.  
Well, quoth the Midwife, now that shall be tried.   

I went to Pie-corner, to look for my Dinner,  
where dining with smoke, it made me look thinner,  
The reckoning being called for, the same I denied,  
well, quoth the Cook, now that shall be tried.   

And then in Smithfield I bought me a Nag,  
Where of all the four, not half a good leg,  
Being tied to the Manger, he left me his Hyde,  
Well, qd. the Bearward, now that shall be tried.   

A Suit of good Satin I made me as then,  
Where as five yards were stole out of ten,  
And four of the others at last were denied.  
Well, quoth the Broker, now that shall be tried.   

I met then a Collier, that sold me good Coals,  
Where two, of four Bushels, ran out at the holes,  
Yet more than full measure, the Collier still cried,  
Well, quoth the Pillory, that shall be tried.    

The second Part. To the same tune.  

 
GReat store of good liquor the Thames doth contain,  
Whereof the old Maltman doth greatly complain,  
That in the hot Kettle, the Malt will not bide.  
Well, quoth the Brewer, now that shall be tried.   

The Carrier that travels by night very late,  
When good Ale hath quelled the strength of his pate,  
Without either money, or wit, he may ride,  
well, quoth the Thief, now that shall be tried.   

A Wench of plain dealing, makes use of her own,  
The Beadles of Bridewell her shoulders have known,  
The rod of correction, she will not abide,  
Well, quoth Meg merry-tricks, that shall be tried.   

The good man, that leadeth a cumbersome life,  
Where no day he scapeth the fist of his Wife:  
And being thus beaten, his neighbour must ride.  
Well, quoth the Milke-wife, now that shall be tried.   

The Good wife, that wasteth her state unto naught,  
In gaudy apparel her husband hath bought,  
May walk like a Peacock, her hands by her side,  
Well, quoth the Cuckold, now that shall be tried.   

He that his garments will pawn for good Ale▪  
And at his poor Wife like a Drunkard will rail,  
May daily go naked, without any pride,  
Well, quoth the Beggar, now that shall be tried.   

She that a house and a charge will maintain,  
Yet will not for laziness take any pain,  
May like a Sow fatten, that's filthily styde.  
Well, quoth the Drunkard, now that shall be tried   

She that by scolding still pays all her debts,  
To the ease of her belly, sore sick of the frets,  
May gallantly on the Cucking-stool ride,  
Well, quoth the Oyster-wench, that shall be tried.   

He that each morning will call for his quart  
At the Labour in Vain, to comfort his heart,  
May fear no ill savours, that Night-men abide.  
Well, quoth the jakes-farmer, that shall be tried.   

Now those that my Ditty will kindly regard,  
A Pipe of Tobacco shall have for reward,  
With a Cup of Old Sherry, well sugared beside,  
Well, quoth the Ballad-singer, that shall be tried.    

London printed for john Trundle.