Poor Tom the Tailor  
His Lamentation.  
Giving an Account how he picked up a Miss near the Maypole in the Strand, and also how he handed her to the Fair. where he treated her very generously, but according to the old proverb, sweet meat must have sour sauce, for while he was safe a snoring in Bed she very dexterously picked his pocket, leaving him to pay the Reckoning, without ever a penny in his purse, This unfortunate disaster may well be a warning to all the Tailors in or about London to forsake their old accustomed tricks, setting poor Tom before them as an example.  
To the Tune of, Daniel Cooper.  
 
 

TOm the Tailor near the Strand,  
he met a pretty Creature.  
He kindly took her by the hand,  
and vowed that he would treat her,  
He was kind and gave her wine,  
a Glass of good Canary;  
She was fair as might compare,  
and Tom was brisk and airy.   

When Tommy he did court his miss,  
he called her his honey,  
But she would not admit a kiss,  
before she saw his money:  
But when she did behold his coin,  
she was well contented,  
Every penny shall be mine,  
thy Pockets shall be emptied.   
 
 

She arrayed in flowered silks,  
and in costly Laces,  
With a skin as white as milk,  
these was sweet embraces:  
She called him her only joy,  
and vowed she'd ne'er deceive him,  
As long as he had e'er a Groat,  
she would never leave him.   

Strait they were conveyed to bed,  
he fell soon a snoring,  
Then a trick came in her head,  
to fit him for his whoring:  
By slight of hand she picked his Purse,  
and what did follow after,  
She left him all the shot to pay,  
like a cunning sharper.   

When the morning day appeared  
he had never missed her,  
And rousing up he turned about,  
hoping to have kissed her:  
But when he found that she was gone,  
Oh how he then lamented,  
He cried out he was undone,  
he found his pocket emptied.   

The Tailor he got out of Bed,  
he was sore discontented,  
He tore the hair from off his head,  
if seems he thus lamented:  
In that his rage he cursed the time,  
when that he first beheld her,  
For she had funed him of his Coin,  
Oh then he could have killed her.   

The Drawer he came up indeed,  
with this discourse ensuing,  
Come pay me down my shot with speed,  
or it shall prove your ruin:  
The Drawer with such kind of words,  
began for to afflict him,  
He called him whoreson Cuckold's bird,  
and down the Stairs he kicked him.   

The poor distressed Tailor looked,  
as if he would have died,  
And then he fell upon his knees,  
and wrung his hands and cried:  
But yet his tears would not prevail,  
they would not thus dismiss him,  
But they did ferret him about,  
that the Tailor he bepissed him.   

The Tailor see himself beset,  
by those that stood about him,  
Which caused him to chafe and fret,  
to see how they did flout him:  
He striped off his Coat and Cloak,  
and they from him did take it,  
And then they turned him out of doors  
a little more than Naked.   

You Tailors all that keeps a Miss,  
and deals so much in Courting,  
They'll give to you a judas kiss,  
if you delight in Sporting:  
You see poor Tommy of your trade,  
by Whoring was abused,  
Which made him make a solemn vow  
that he no more would use it.