The Wonder of Wonders:  
OR, An Excellent SONG of a Six-Legged Creature.  
Tune of, Old Simon the King.  

This may be Printed  
R. P.   
 
 

COme listen unto my new Ditty,  
it is of a Monstrous Creature  
Who liveth in London's fair City  
she's known to be loving by Nature.  
She liveth in Service with many,  
a Creature both loving and quiet,  
And wages she ne'er receives any,  
so she hath both Lodging and Diet.   

She is not for running away,  
her anger she soon can expel;  
Till Death with her Master she'll stay,  
if that he will use her but well.  
This Creature she is not very tall,  
sometimes she's upon the Exchange,  
Full six Legs she travels withal;  
oh! is this not wondrous strange?   

She'll venture as far in a Battle  
as any stout Soldier that goes;  
Tho' Cannons and Muskets do rattle,  
she cares not a Fig for her Foes.  
She values no Pistol nor Gun,  
nor any Commanders high words;  
Nor will she be put to the run,  
for fear of a thousand drawn Swords.   
 
 

She ranges the streets very late,  
her valour and courage is such,  
She fears not a knock on the pate  
by Constable, Beadle, or Watch.  
Thus she in her freedom does reign,  
no creature more stouter and bolder:  
The Stocks she does highly disdain,  
they never was able to hold her.   

A Washer she cannot endure,  
foul Linen is all her delight;  
For there she can lie most secure,  
and never be put to the fright.  
That man that hath been a great waster,  
and every thing he doth lack,  
She chooseth him to be her master,  
although not a shirt to his bask.   

Although he be never so poor,  
without e'er a Groat in his Purse,  
She'll guard him behind and before,  
her love it is never the worse.  
A fuller account I will give  
of her worthy Fame or Renown:  
This creature she often doth live  
with many fine Blades of the Town.   

Her Pedigrée now I'll unfold,  
resolving to speak in her praise;  
She sprung from a Nation of old,  
where I never was many days:  
'Twas Egypt, as I have heard say,  
which once was our natural soil,  
But now she is grown very grey,  
With travelling many a Mile.   

You know when old Herod was King,  
there then was a wonderful fort  
Of these in that Nation did spring,  
and nursed by his Ladies at Court.  
The reason that many don't love her,  
because she such numbers doth breed:  
But this is the worst I say of her,  
she is a Backbiter indeed.   
FINIS.   

Printed for james Bissel at the Bible and Harp in West-Smithfield.  

Where any Chapmen may be furnished with all sorts of new and old Songs.