The Knight and the Beggar-Wench.  
Which doth a wanton prank unfold,  
In as merry a story as ever was told.  
The Tune is, The King's delight, or turncoat.  
 

I Met with a jovial Beggar  
And into the Fields I led her,  
and I laid her upon the ground;  
Her face did not invite me,  
Nor her smock did much delight me  
but I think the young whore was sound;  
With Ladies both fresh and gay  
I often did sport and play,  
yet a Beggar I'll take  
for varieties sake,  
She'll please me as well as they.   

I have a good Wife, as fair  
As ever drew English air  
her pleasure is past compare,  
Her cherry lips, cheeks, and eyes,  
Her belly, her breast, and thighs,  
might any but I suffice,  
With her I so often play  
And weary my time away  
That a fouler to me  
Would be fairer than she,  
Variety wins the day,   

This Beggar I shall describe,  
Without any hope of bribe,  
was one of the maunding tribe  
She had a fine foot and leg,  
As nimble as do or Stag,  
and then she began to beg;  
So soon as my Horse she sees  
She fell down upon her knees,  
The whore had a sack  
That hung at her back  
Well furnished with Bread and cheese,   

She struck me into a dump  
The jade was both young and plump,  
with a round, and a ranting Rump;  
Her feature had so much force,  
It raised in me remorse  
and drew me quite off my Horse,  
But when I began to woo  
She told me she would not do,  
Quoth I pretty Mort,  
Let me show thee some sport  
She kissed me, and answered no,   
 
 

My Horse to a twig I tied,  
the begger-wench than replied  
good Master get up and ride,  
Yes so I will straight (thought I)  
With that I drew something nigh  
she struggled and cried fie, fie,  
I am but a Beggar by breed,  
Quoth I let me do this deed,  
For he that will scorn  
A Beggar-wench born  
May want a good turn at need.   

Then into her Arms I claps,  
Quoth she now I'm in your traps,  
what shall I do with scraps  
Throw them in the bush said I,  
No, no, she did straight reply  
there's Pig, and Pudding and Pie  
We beg for better or worse,  
My blessings I will not curse,  
Why then quoth I,  
Go run presently,  
And throw it athwart my horse.   

She then (in a merry vein)  
Did trip to me back again,  
to put me out of my pain,  
She dazelled so my sight,  
That neither by day or night,  
I ever had such delight,  
So close to me now she clings  
And flutters abroad her wings,  
But my bashful jade  
Ashamed of the trade  
Broke loose and away he flings.   

I rise and away ran I,  
The Beggar-wench than did cry,  
my Pig and my Pudding and Pie  
I ran and I cursed and swore,  
Until I came to my door,  
but the Horse was get home before  
I bade the wench stay behind,  
And told her I would be kind,  
But when I came home  
I looked like a Mome,  
I wished that I had been blind.   

My Wife and my neighbours all  
Did laugh, ye might hear 'em bawl  
from Temple Bar to White-Hall,  
my sweethearts provant was found  
Which lay in the wallet bound,  
and scattered about the ground,  
The sight of my wife did daunt,  
and make my heart prick and pant  
Sir Thomas quoth she,  
(And spoke merrily)  
Where get you this good provant?   

Thought I, it is best bear up,  
Although of this venomous Cup,  
I take but a sorrowful sup,  
In the twinkling of ones eyes,  
I thought of a thousand lies,  
but ne'er a one would suffice;  
I many things had in doubt,  
Yet could not well bring 'em about,  
As I went to begin  
The wench came in,  
And so came the story out.   

My Lady did laugh outright,  
As if she had much delight  
But I found it not so at night;  
I gave the poor-wench a pe●●e,  
But wished she had been in Greece  
to tell such a tale as this,  
My Madam doth make it slight,  
But I have got nothing by't,  
for when she wants of her wish  
it is thrown in my dish,  
I'd better been hanged outright,   
FINIS.   

London, Printed for F. Coles, M. Weight, T. V●●● & W. Gilberts●●