FREEZLAND-FAIR, OR THE Icey Bear-Garden.  
A new Ballad:  
To the Tune of Packington's Pound.  

1.  
I'll tell ye a Tale (tho' before 'twas in Print)  
If ye make nothing on't, than the Devil is in't.  
'Tis no tale of a Tub, nor the Plotting of Treason,  
But of very strange things have been done this strange Season.  
Ye know there's a Brook,  
No, no, I mistook,  
For I could not find it, tho' long I did look:  
Yet I do not question, for all these odd freaks,  
We shall find it again when-e're the Frost breaks.   

2.  
If ye do believe what was told us by Oats,  
Ye never again will have use of your Boats;  
Without ye do now employ th' Wheelers to do't,  
Ye ne'er will be able to bring all about.  
He talked of a Plot,  
Believe it, or not,  
To blow up the Thames, and to do't on the Spot;  
Then either the Doctor must now be believed,  
Or else both the Doctor and we are deceived.   

3.  
No Water I see which does fairly incline  
To make me believe that he has Sprung his Mine;  
Tho' that did not do what the Doctor intended,  
Yet he may for one thing he said be commended:  
He said that the Pope,  
Pray mind, 'tis a Trope,  
Would send us his Bulls, by the way of the Hope;  
And tho' for the Sight we all long have been waiting,  
I t'other day saw on the Ice a Bull-baiting.   

4.  
I hope you'll believe me, 'twas as fine a Sight,  
As ever I saw on a Queen Bess' Night;  
Tho' I must confess I saw no such Dogs there,  
As used to attend on th' Infallible Chair.  
Yet there were some Men.  
Whom I knew again,  
Who bawled as they did, when they chose Aldermen.  
And Faith it had been a most excellent Show,  
Had there been but some Crackers and Serpents to throw.   

5.  
Another thing pleased me, as I hope for Life,  
I saw of a Man that had gotten a Wife  
To see the rare Whimsies, the Woman was sick,  
So never suspected a slippery Trick:  
But when she came there,  
The Ice would not bear,  
But whether 'twas his fault or hers, I can't swear;  
Yet thus far is true, had he so lost his Wife,  
He then might have prayed for a Frost all his life.   

6.  
There's very fine Tricks, & new subject for Laughter,  
For there you may take a Coach and go by Water,  
So get a Tarpauling too, as you are Jogging,  
Tho' a Nymph t'other day for it got a good Flogging.  
There was an old Toast,  
Of Beef had a Roast,  
Which fell into th' Cellar, and fairly was lost.  
O see in old Proverbs sometimes there is truth,  
A Man is not sure of his Meat till in's Mouth.   

7.  
But I had forgot my chief business I swear,  
To give an Account of new Temple-Street Fair;  
Where most of the Students do daily resort,  
To show the great love they had always for Sport.  
Who oft give a Token,  
I hope't may be spoken,  
To Whore in a Mask, who squeaks like a Pig a Poke in.  
To see such craked Vessels sail is a new matter,  
Who have been so shattered between Wind and Water.   

8.  
Like Babel this Fair's not built with Brick or Stone,  
Though here I believe is as great Confusion;  
Now Blankets are forced double Duty to pay,  
On Beds all the night, and for Houses all day;  
But there's something more,  
Some people deplore,  
Their carelessly leaving open Cellar Door,  
Which puts me in mind of Jack Presbyter's trick,  
Who from Pulpit descends the like way to Old Nick.   

9  
Come all ye young damsels both swarthy and fair,  
This is the best place to put off your Cracked Ware;  
Here's Chapmen good store who too't stiffly will stand▪  
And scorn to put Coin that is false in your Hand:  
While you're there abiding,  
And on the Ice Gliding,  
Let 'em say what they will, 'tis but a back-sliding:  
But if ye should Prove, then say I am a Prophet,  
Tho't's a Slippery trick there shall come no more of it   

10.  
There's many more Tricks, but too long to be told,  
Which are not all new, tho' there's none of 'em old.  
There's the Fellow that Printeth the Old Bailey Trial,  
Who to all the dull Printers does give a Denial;  
he'll Print for a Sice,  
(For that is his price▪  
Your Name (that you brag may 'twas done) on the Ice.  
And Faith I do think it a very fine thing,  
So my Tale's at an end: but first, God save the KING▪    

Printed for Charles Corbet, at the Oxford Arms in Warwick Lane. 1684.