The Jolly Chair-Men.  
OR An Excellent New Song in praise of their Employment, which is to be Preferred before Coaches, for the ease of those that cannot bare Jumbling.  
Tune is, Here I Love, there I Love, etc.  
Licenced according to Order.  

COme listen well to a Jocular Song,  
The which does to honest stout Chair-men belong,  
Who Plys at St. James' and near to White-Hall.  
Where Gallants for Chair-men do commonly call.   

When Ladies of Pleasure, would visit a Friend,  
Why then for a Chairman they hastily send,  
Who does the young Miss to her Gallant convey,  
Where they in their wanton Embraces may play.   

When ever she lights of a Booty, O then,  
She's not ungrateful to honest Chair-men,  
But throws them a shilling for waiting a while,  
Of which she has earned by her labour and toil.   

The Gallant whose Pockets are lined with Gold,  
He will all the Pleasures of Nature behold,  
The Chair-men are sent for to hoist them away,  
From Jilting, to Tennis-Court, Park, or the Play.   

Like Slaves through the street we run trudging together  
With this huffing Spark in our  of Leather,  
While thus he does Revel in Pleasure, perhaps,  
He loses his Money but meets with a Clap,   

To housoes of Pleasure we trudge on together,  
To carry the Sinners in Chairs made of Leather,  
Where the wit, and the money and vigour all spent,  
Full late they come Home, and as late they repent.   

But if this should happen 'tis nothing to us,  
You very well know that our Chair's ne'er the worse,  
A Puritan Sister next way in our Chair,  
We carry indeed a kind Brother to hear.   

Chair, Chair, crysthe Footman, away we all run,  
And happy arethey that the Race have first won,  
Then in steps the Hector, claps hat upon knee,  
For none makes a Figure so modish as he.   

This Foppish Young Spark in a garb shall appear,  
As if he was one of ten thousand a year,  
When may be he ha'ned so much Coin in his Purse,  
That for our hard Labour should satisfy us.   

With many a fat Gut, and damned heavy load,  
Like poor Beasts of Burden we travel the Road,  
Away we trudge with him full may a score,  
His Carcase weighs much, but his sins do weigh more.   

We carry the Ladies who carry again,  
We take up both Sexes, they only the men,  
They are no great burden, we run with a slight,  
Since women ye know for the most part are light.   

When Lady to Lady their visits do pay,  
We Chair-men have business-enough for that day,  
Surrounded with Footmen some less and some more,  
We carry his Honour to visit his Whore,   

There is not a Coach in the world can compare,  
With these Chairs of Leather, for why-I declare,  
For Coaches o'er Kennels do roar it like Thunder,  
As if they would shake an Old sinner in sunder.   

For there is some Gallants has had'em of late.  
And these can't endure to be Jowled at that rate,  
A Chair than is called for to ride through the Town,  
The which are as easy as beds of soft down.   

To the Court and the Playhouse we carry our fair,  
Cracked, Sound, and unsound, and all sorts of Ware,  
We carry the Lacie, Proud, Gout, and the Pox,  
And live by the carrying of Jack in a Box.   
FINIS.