The Cities New POET'S MOCK-SHOW.  
Harken good people in Country and City,  
For I do intent to be very witty,  
And London's Lord Mayor shall be my Ditty.  
Of the Skinners-Hall was this man of might,  
He walketh by day, and sleepeth by night,  
And with his fine Sword the Bakers doth fright.  
Scarce had the ruddy morning broke,  
When my Lord Mayor out of his dream awoke,  
Quoth he, hath Will to the Barber spoke?  
His voice made his wife her eyes to unlock,  
Quoth she, where is Mary to bring me my Smock?  
With that my Lord Mayor with his Slippers did knock.  
When he was shaved, and all things were fit,  
He sent for a pound of Beef from the Spit,  
And hastily eat it up every bit.  
Then away went he to his Galley-foist,  
He road on a horse, 'cause the weather was moist,  
At which the women and children rejoiced.  
Who all in Scullers did go straightway,  
For to behold a most gallant Fray,  
Which Cripple gate men performed that day.  
The Cripple gate men did notable Feats,  
The English man the Spaniard beats,  
And all the way merrily piped the Weights.  
The Drums did ratle, the Guns did thunder,  
The people did laugh, and the people did wonder,  
And all the poor Fish lay trembling under.  
Then landed the Mayor and his Aldermen old,  
With Scarlet Gowns, and Chains of Gold,  
Yet none of them could a Dream unfold.  
Before and behind were the Dung-boats all dressed,  
With Flags and Pendants of the very best,  
And in them sat the Wise men of the East.  
To Westward they went both Jack and Tony,  
To show the Protector they had yet more money,  
For which he thanked them from a Bellcony.  
Now comes the Mayor to the Bar of Course,  
To the Judge he made legs like Bank's horse,  
He could do no better, 'twas well 'twas no worse.  
Then spoke the Recorder, wise man he,  
At length, my Lord Baron, are come we,  
Your Honour's Worship for to see.  
But that the people did throng so fast,  
Indeed, my Lord, we had made more haste,  
But who can remedy what is past.  
Therefore to avoid this mischief hereafter,  
Pray let our Green-men come with us by water,  
They'll open the Crowd, and make you much laughter.  
And now Mr. Baron, if I be not too bold,  
I think here's a Mayor worth his weight in Gold,  
Pray swear him quickly, for it is very cold.  
Then answered the Baron' o'th' Exchequer, and said,  
My Lord, to see you in truth I am glad,  
You seem a Gentleman proper and stayed.  
Then he went on not at all flustered,  
God bless your Lordship and your Custard,  
And may your Justice sting like Mustard.  
But now he's come to the City again,  
And home to Dinner he must amain,  
With Capon-broth to wash his New Chain.  
Against the Old Change a Pag'ant did meet him,  
And there a Giant also did greet him,  
There was no house in London could fit him.  
This Giant he walked upon Stilts,  
With his tricks he tickled the people's milts,  
And he had a Sword with fifteen hilts.  
He th●earned the Tower away to bear,  
With all the New Silver that was there,  
But, quoth the Lord Mayor, Sir, do if you dare.  
With that he fell down, to set forth Ambition,  
For no man is safe in Fortune's tuition,  
Therefore good people walk in submission.  
I'th' Pageant there were Leopards two,  
In them sat two Moors as black as a shoe;  
Now guess if the people had nothing to do:  
At every corner a Virgin sat,  
They looked each one as sad as a Cat;  
For they did mourn for I know not what.  
Before there sat an old man in black,  
He seemed as if he something did lack,  
Sure he wanted a Cup of my Lord Mayor Sack.  
But when he did see my Lord Mayor come,  
He threw off his Cloak, and scratched his Bum,  
And out of his throat his phlegm did hum.  
Quoth he, my Lord, and one ' o'th' four and twenty,  
To tell you the truth my belly is empty,  
To stay so long at Westminster, what meant ye?  
Swearing and chaffing, then came the Cook,  
Quoth he, what a stir's here to swear on a Book?  
I thought his wits would have his brains forsook  
My Lord convinced by Logic so strong,  
His Green-men caused to open the throng,  
That he the more quickly might pass along:  
But as if the devil did owe him a spite,  
And resolved to keep him from victuals till night,  
At Soaper-lane end behold another sight.  
The Pageant it was a very fine Toy,  
IT was invented sure by some Pauls-school boy,  
It made my Lord Mayor's heart leap for joy.  
First Pan with his Horns himself descries,  
Next him sat Orpheus on a Seat that did rise,  
Behind sat four Satyrs with hairy thighs.  
Wild beasts there was of many a sort,  
Most lively done, thank Iermin for't,  
But heaven be praised they did no body hurt  
Pan did set forth a Cuckoldly Clown,  
Of which there are many in London town,  
Would I had as many pounds of my own.  
There Prentices were set forth by the Satyrs,  
Who often do prove themselves no women-haters,  
When they run away with their Master's Daughters.  
This made my Lord Mayor earnestly gaze,  
Alas his Lordship was in an amaze,  
When up stepped Orpheus, and spoke in this phrase:  
Quoth he man of might, that rul'st with a Mace  
For which the Tailor did make a green Case,  
Welcome the Comfort of thy new shaved face.  
At Soaper-lane end stand Watchmen mighty,  
Which maketh us in this place to greet ye,  
Who are the chief Watchmen of our City  
For I know no man, as I am a Sinner,  
Fit than you who are a Skinner,  
To be our Cities Wakefield Pinner;  
For easiest are by you to be seen,  
The Knaves that would get our walls within,  
Clothed in the Lambs and Fox's skin:  
Besides the City is a great Bear,  
And wickedness like a skin doth wear,  
I pray you flay it off, good my Lord Mayor.  
Let Justice also that mighty Virtue,  
Before you go like Green men that sport you,  
With Fire in her mouth, that Vice may not hurt you,  
More would he have said, but the Cook in haste,  
Sent one to ask Mayor why time he did waste,  
To hear a fool prate in a Pageant placed?  
With that to this home most nimbly he traces,  
Where Cripplegate men stood in their due places,  
With Muskets cocked and Leopard faces.  
The Mayor in his House, they did not refuse  
To give him many Peals to give 'em their deuce,  
They valued their Powder as the dirt of their shoes.  
Thus was my Lord Mayor of his Chain of State seized,  
Thus were the men of Cripplegate eased,  
And thus were the Women and Prentices pleased.  
Now Maids in your Smocks, Look well to your Locks,  
Your Fire, and also your Candle-light;  
For when the Belly is full, men are sleepy and dull,  
Good night my Masters all, good night.  M. T.