ROGER▪ The West-Country Lad. Set forth in his proper SHAPES. OR, THE WEST-Country Lasses Sweetheart Described, in Answer to the Well-shaped Country Lass.  
To the Tune of Cavalilly Man.  
Licenced according to Order.  

High ho, pray what shall I do?  
My Sweetheart is gone I cannot tell how,  
He's like to Old Nick, and give him his due,  
And this is my Love, do you like him ho?   

I'm sure he has got a goodly burnt Face,  
He looks like to Cain, or one of his Race,  
And a Halter would set him off with a good grace  
And this is my Love, do you like him ho?   

He has a fine Nose that is like to a Bottle,  
But it bends somewhat downwards and covers his Throttle,  
'Tis partly green coloured, & partly 'tis mottle,  
And this is my Love, etc.   

His Teeth, like a Checquer, is all black & red,  
And stands very handsomely in his Calves-head  
Which makes me full often the thoughts of him dread,  
And this is my Love, etc.   

His mouth it is narrow, being square a yard long  
His Breath it is scented, and that very strong,  
It smells like a Turd when you stir in it long,  
And this is my Love, etc.   

The Hair of his Head its colour is red,  
But it looks very grey having Nits in his Head,  
And where there is Nits there is Lice it is said,  
And this is my Love, etc.   

I spies him by chance the last Wednesday Morn,  
A Combing his Hair with a Comb made of Horn  
And I think such a lousy Rogue never was born  
And this is my Love, etc.   

His Throat it is like the Ditch near to the Fleet,  
But it is not so handsome, nor scarce so sweet,  
And I'm sure he can swallow a Bashel of Wheat,  
And this is my Love, etc.   

His Body is Crooked more every day  
And his Legs they are both often turned the wrong way,  
Which makes him look wonderful handsome and gay,  
And this is my Love, etc.   

His Legs are small as the Post of a Mill,  
I think it is true, believe it who will,  
But his Arse I am sure a great Cauldron will fill,  
And this is my Love, etc.   

Last night in a nasty old Bed he Pigged in,  
His Feet in his Mouth all beshit to his Skin,  
He looked like a Monster and fiercely did Grin,  
And this is my Love, etc.   

And now my good Neighbours I swear by my say  
I'm afraid that some of you will steal him away  
But I hope you'll return him again the next day  
If you like not my dearest Love hie ho,    

Printed for James Gilbertson, and G. Conyers.