London's Ordinary, Or every man in his humour.  
To a pleasant new Tune.  

 

THrough the Royal Exchange as I walked,  
Where Gallants in satin do shine:  
At midst of the day they parted away  
To seaverall places to dine.   

The Gentry went to the King's head,  
The Nobls unto the Crown:  
The Knights went to the Golden Fleece,  
And the Plough men to the Clown.   

The Clergy will dine at the Mitre,  
The Vintners at the three Tons:  
The Usurers to the Devil will go  
And the Friars to the Nuns.   

The Ladies will dine at the Feathers  
The Globe no Captain will scorn:  
The Hunt's men will go to the Grey hound below  
And some Town's men to the Horn.   

The Plumbers will dine at the Fountain,  
The Cooks at the holly Lamb:  
The Drunkards by noon to the Man in the Moon,  
And the Cuckolds to the Ram.   

The Roarers will dine at the Lyon.  
The Water men at the old Swan:  
And Bawds will to the Negro go,  
And Whores to the naked Man.   

The Keepers' will to the white Hart,  
The Merchants unto than Ship:  
The Beggars they must take their way  
To the Egg shell and the Whip.   

The Farryers' will to the Horse,  
The Black smith unto the Lock:  
The Butchers unto the Bull will go  
And the Carmen to Bridewll dock.   

The Fish mongers unto the Dolphin,  
The Barbers to the Cheat loaf:  
The Turner's unto the Ladle will go  
Where they may merrily quaff.   

The Tailors will dine at the Shears,  
The Shoe makers will to the Boot:  
The Welshmen they will take their way  
And dine at the sign of the Goat.    

The Second part.  
To the same Tune.  
 

THe Hosiers will dine at the Leg,  
The drapers at the sign of the Brush:  
The Fletcher's to Rodin hood will go  
And the Spendthrift to Beggar's Bush:   

The Pewterers to the Quart pot,  
The Cooper's will dine at the Hoop:  
The Cobblers to the Last will go  
And the Barge men to the Scoop.   

The Carpenters will to the Axe,  
The Colliers will dine at the Sack:  
Your Fruterer he to the Cherry tree  
Good fellows no liquor will lack.   

The Gold smith will to the three Cups,  
For money they hold it as dross:  
Your Puritan to the Pewter can  
And your Papists to the Cross.   

The Weavers will dine at the Shuttele,  
The Glover's will unto the Glove:  
The Maidens all to the Maiden head  
And true Lovers unto the Dove.   

The Saddlers will dine at the Saddle,  
The Painters will to the green Dragon:  
The Dutchmen will go to the Froe,  
Where each man will drink his Flagon.   

The Chandler's will dine at the Skales,  
The Salters at the sign of the Bag:  
The Porters take pain at the Labour in vain  
And the Horse courser to the white Nag.   

Thus every man in his humour,  
That comes from the North or the South:  
But he that hath no money in his purse,  
May dine at the sine of the Mouth,   

The Swaggerers will dine at the Fencers,  
But those that have lost their wits:  
With Bedlam Tom let that be their home,  
And the Drum the drummers best fits.   

The Cheter will dine at the Chequer,  
The Pick pockets in a blind Ale house:  
Tell on and tried then up Holborn they ride  
And they their end at the Gallows.    
Finis.   

Printed at London by the Assigns of Thomas Symcocke.