The Country Miss new come in Fashion; Or, A farewell to the Pockified Town Miss.  
A Country Girl in a Paragon Gown,  
That never yet knew the tricks of the town;  
Did lately delude a taring Gallant,  
Who just such an Innocent Virgin did want,  
And since he's enjoyed her I heard him protest  
That of all other Misses she pleased him best.  

To an excellent new Playhouse Tune, Called, The Mock-Tune to the French Ranth. With Allowance.  
 lady with a flower  gentleman  

GIve me the Lass that's true Country bred,  
With paragon gown, straw Hat on her head;  
Feeding upon good Bacon and Beans,  
But never knew what jilting means.   

What though her skin be twany and course,  
Flocks she lies on, she'll kiss ne'er the worse;  
Clap she ne'er had like Miss of the Town,  
Tha●'s painted and patched, and lies up and down   

What though her speech be simple and plain,  
She knows not what flattering compliments mean;  
If bawdy you speak, she blushes and smiles,  
Such innocent charms stead of beauty beguiles.   

Free from distempers in every part.  
Where ever she likes she loves from her heart,  
She's not for a minute like those of the Trade,  
For pleasing enjoyment for ever she's made,   

She has not the trick of forcing delight,  
But acts with like pleasures each day & each night  
Each moment she's dying, so hot is her fire,  
And never does kiss but with perfect desire.   

So sound is her Nature, she's always in health.  
Her kisses are sweet which she gives me by stealth  
When  I am dull, and sit sighing alone.  
She I sing me a song of young Tommy and Joan,   
 gentleman 
R I   lady  

The hair of her head is as black as a Crow,  
She's very well shaped, not too high nor too low;  
All parts are inviting in ev'ry degree.  
Especially those we are forbidden to see.   

My Nanny and I (for that is her name)  
So equally manage now each others flame.  
That neither's deceiv d nor can ever be cloyed,  
But both a like brisk after pleasure's enjoyed.   

Our Misses o'th' Town act contrariwise,  
They ne'er take delight but in hopes of a prize;  
Their desire is palled before they begin.  
Because they each day make a Trade of their Sin.   

Their blood is corrupted, their bodies are fowl,  
They swear loud enough to damn body and soul;  
They clap all their Cullies, and their pockets pick.  
And send the young fop home for a while to be sick   

With a dose of rare Pills & some other fine slaps  
They keep 'em selves under the notion of Claps,  
Which else would arrive to the bridge of the nose,  
But that they prevent by a surpentine dose.   

My Nanny and I are free from disease,  
We ne'er are in danger let's do what we please:  
We hug and we kiss, we sport and we play,  
And for pleasures we study to find a new way.   

What though her country Tones does seem rude  
And cannot with eloquence others delude  
'Tis no matter for that, she has won my heart so,  
I shall love her for ever for a trick that I know.   

Beyond all expressing she sweetens our joys.  
And doubtless the's full of fine Girls and fine boys  
She's kind and she's true, & so constant does prove  
She ne'er will admit any Rival in Love.   

The Butter fly M●ss may scoff if she will.  
And swear that my Country Nanny wants skill:  
To sport and to kiss, but i'll vow she's deceived.  
She has judgement enough if I may be believed,   

Such harmless embraces would ravish one's soul,  
Though old age and envy stand by to control.  
Her kisses a man almost dead will revive,  
No better are had from no woman alive.   

All that I have said of my Nanny is true  
And more she deserves if I gave her her due,  
But this shall suffice, and my labour i●e save  
Lest you all fall a longing for what you can't have     
FINIS.  

London Printed for W. Thackeray, T. Passenger, and W. Whitwood.