A Leicester-shire Frolic; Or, The valiant Cookmaid.  
Being a merry composed Jest of Five Tailors that had been at work till their Wages came to 5 pounds, likewise a merry conceited Cookmaid that lived in the house, went to her Master and desired him to lend her a horse, and she would venture her skill to take the 5-pound from these five Tailors, without either Sword or Pistol, in a jesting way, to make her Master some sport and to show her valour: her Master loving mirth more than sadness, agreed to it: so a Horse was saddled, and other things to disguise herself, because she might not be known: away she went (it being in the Evening) and met them before they got home, with nothing in her hand but a black pudding, the faint-hearted Tailors delivered her their money very quietly, for fear they should a been shot through with a Black pudding, and what followed after is expressed in this following Ditty. Tune is, Ragged and torn. With Allowance.  

 
I'll tell you a pretty fine jest,  
if that you do please it to hear,  
For the truth on't I do protest,  
I'm sure that you need not to fear:  
It is of a valiant Cookmaid,  
that lived at a Nobleman's place,  
And five Tailors that once was afraid,  
when as they looked her in the face,  
O this was the valiant cookmaid,  
without either Pistol or Gun,  
But with a Black-pudding did fright,  
five Tailors, and put them toth' run.   

This Nobleman upon a time,  
had great store of work for to do,  
But to bring every thing into rhyme,  
'twill study my brains you must know,  
Five Tailors that lived hard by,  
That worked for fourpence a day,  
For Beef and for Pudding at night,  
they'd better do so then to play:  
O this, etc.  
These Tailors a great while did work,  
two Masters, and their three men,  
They laboured as hard as a Turk,  
with Stitching both too and again,  
And when that their work it was done,  
their money unto them was told,  
Full five good pounds it is known,  
of Silver, but not of red Gold:  
O this, etc.  
And when as their money they'd got,  
than who was so jocund as they  
Each Man of the best drank his pot,  
and homewards they strait took their way  
A Cookmaid there was in the house,  
that used full merry to be,  
Who went to her Master in haste,  
and these words unto him did say,  
O thi●, etc.  
Master if that you please,  
some pastime I for you will make,  
But to lend me a horse then (quoth she)  
and this money I from them will take,  
Her Master then hearing the jest,  
would try what this Cookmaid could do  
Some mirth he did think it the best,  
as Gentlemen will do you know,  
O this, etc.  
A horse than was saddled with speed,  
and boots and Spurs she put on,  
And other materials most fit,  
because that she would not be known,  
A horseback she strait got astride,  
with a Hogs-Pudding in her hand,  
And meeting these Tailors in haster  
she presently bid them to stand,  
O this, etc.  
Deliver your Money (quoth she)  
or else your manhoods now try,  
Or by this same thing in my hand,  
every man of you shall die,  
Then out her Black-pudding she pulled,  
which sore did the Tailor's affright,  
They thought it had been a pistol well charged  
because 'twas late in the night,  
O this, etc.  
They begged their lives she might save,  
we are but poor tailors (quoth they)  
And truly no money we have,  
for we work but for fourpences a day,  
You lie like all Rogues (quoth she)  
and do not my patience provoke,  
For 5 pounds you have ta'en for your work.  
so presant that word did them choke,  
O this, etc.  
That money deliver with speed,  
if that you think well on your Lives,  
Or by this same thing you shall bleed,  
the which will go farther than Knives,  
Then out of their pockets their money they took  
with many a sorrowful tear,  
And gave it into her hand,  
here's all on't each Tailor did swear.  
O this, etc.  
And when she their money had got,  
she set Spurs and away she did run,  
The Davil go with you (quoth they)  
for i'm sure that we are undone:  
But when that this Cookmaid came home,  
straight unto her Master she told,  
And showed him his money again,  
how passages went she did unfold,  
O this, etc.  
But here comes the cream of the jest,  
those Tailors which was such Men,  
After they'd stood pausing a while,  
then back they returned again,  
They came with a pitiful tone,  
their hair stood like men bewitched  
Toth' Gentleman they made their moan,  
for their money their fingers it itched,  
O this, etc.  
The Gentleman laughed in conceit,  
how many was there said he,  
Sure you were all men sufficient  
to a beaten above woe or three;  
Truly we saw but one man  
the which took our money away,  
But we feared he had partakers in store,  
or else he should never a carried the day,  
O this, etc.  
He was well mounted upon a good steed,  
and a Pistol that put us to studying,  
You lie like all fools (quoth she)  
it was but a black Hogs-Pudding:  
Thus they the poor Tailors did jeer  
and the Cookmaid laughed in conceit,  
That with nothing but a black Pudding,  
and that five Tailors should beat,  
O this, etc.  
Then straightway the Gentleman spoke,  
what will you give then (said he)  
To have all your money again,  
and the face on't once more to see:  
Quoth the Tailors we'll give the ton half,  
and that's very fair you do know,  
Although that we were such fools,  
to part with our good silver so.  
O this, etc.  
Then straghtways he called for the Cook,  
than the Tailors did laugh in their sleeve  
And set her to cunjuring straight,  
which made the poor Tailors believe  
That she by her art had it found,  
and showed them the place where it lay,  
Which made the poor Tailors to smile,  
so merry and jocand was they.  
O this; etc.  
Here take half the money said they,  
the which we did promise to you,  
And for you we ever will pray,  
for such Cook-Maids there is but a few,  
I'll have none of your money she said,  
as sure as i'm here alive,  
One may know what Cowards you are,  
to let a Hogs-Pudding to fright you all▪  
O this, etc.  
And thus the old Proverb is true,  
nine Tailors do make but one man  
And now it doth plainly appear,  
let them all do what they can,  
For had they been stout hearted Lads,  
they need not callad for aid,  
Nor afraid to taste of a Pudding,  
nor yet be'n outbraved by a Maid.  
O this, etc.   
FINIS.   

Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden-Ball, in Pie-corner, near West-smithfield.