news from More-lane; OR, A mad knavish an vncivil frolic of a Tapster dwelling there, who buying a fat colt for eighteen pnce, the mere being dead,& he not knowing how to bring the colt up by hand, killed it and had it baked in a Pastie, and invited n any of his Neighbours to the Feast; and telling of them what it was; the Conceit thereof made them all Sick; as by this following Dirty you shall hear.  

The Tapster fil'd the Cup up to the brim,  
And all to make the little colt to swim;  
But all that hears it, says that for his gain,  
He is no better then a wag in grain.   
The Tune is, A Health to the best of Men.  
 woodcut of gentleman  
 woodcut of gentleman  

THere is a Tapster in More-lane,  
that did a pastry make,  
All People do of him complain,  
now for his gross mistake,  
he instead of Wenson fine  
a good fat colt did kill,  
And put in store of claret Wine,  
his humour to fulfil.   

A perk of Flower at the least,  
with six pound of Butter.  
he made his neighbours such a Feast,  
and bid them all to Supper:  
A curious fine fat Colt it was,  
and handled daintily:  
The Tapster proved himself an ass.  
for this his knavery.   

Likewise there was a Baker too  
that lived in that place,  
And he was a partaker too,  
I speak in his disgrace,  
For he found Flower to make it,  
I speak not in his praise,  
And afterwards did bake it,  
his knavery for to raise.   

Likewise there was a Car-man too,  
and he found Butter for it;  
But when the knavery Neighbors knew,  
they could not but abhor it:  
And then there was a cook Sir,  
at More-gate doth he dwell,  
And he then under took Sir;  
to make the pastry well.   

Some say it eat as mellow then  
as any little Chick:  
But I tell thee good-fellow then,  
it made the Neighbuors sick:  
The Lapster had his humour,  
but the Neighbours had the worst,  
Yet I do hear they bad good beer,  
and danty Pasty-crust   

Then every jovial Blade Sir,  
that lived in that place;  
They Money freely paid Sir,  
they scorned to be bace.  
They called for beer, likewise for Ale,  
because the colt should swim,  
And of the Cup they would not fail.  
but fil'd it to the brim.   

The second part,  
to the same tune.  
 woodcut of three gentlemen around a table  

THe Car-mans Wife cried out and said  
troa●h 'tis good Meat indeed,  
So likewise said the chamber-Maid,  
when she on it did feed,  
The Lapster bid them welcome then,  
and Wea-hae did he cry,  
You are all welcome Gentlemen,  
you're welcome heartily.   

The Glovers Wife was in a heat,  
and did both pout and mump,  
Because they would not let her eat  
the Bu●to●k and the Rump.  
As for the merry Weavers Wife,  
I will give her, her due  
She spent her coin to end the strife,  
among that jovial Crew.   

This Colt was not so wholesome though  
as was a good fat Hogg.  
Yet one came in and  told the crew  
it was a mangy dog?  
But he that  told them was too blame,  
and was but a silly Dolt.  
The Tapster hide him peace for shane,  
for twas a good fat Colt.   

The Colt be cost me eightéen pence,  
the Tapster be did say,  
I hope good Folks ere you go hence,  
you for your meate will pay.  
Pox take you for a rogue quoth one,  
another he fel'd oaks,  
Another said he was undone?  
twas worse then Harty-choaks.   

The Porter he did give nine pence,  
to have it in a pie.  
The People ere they went from thence,  
did feed most heartily.  
It was the jovial Baker,  
the knavish Tapster too,  
The Car-●●●n was partaker,  
was not this a Iovial Crew   

The Potecary he was there,  
far, and the Sexton too:  
The Tapster put them in great fear,  
He made them for to spew.  
Now was not this a Knave in grain  
to use his Neighbours so.  
When Knave are scarce, he, l go for twan,  
good People what think you.   

The Tapster he came in at last,  
and gave the People vomits:  
I hope( quoth he) the worst is past,  
I have eased your soul Stomacks,  
Wea-hea, cried the Tapster then,  
how do you like my sport:  
The Women said, so did the Men,  
the devil take you for't.   

At Brainford as I heard some say,  
a mangy Dog was eat:  
This was not half so bad as that,  
and yet the fault was great;  
Men of good fashion then was there,  
that went both fine and brave.  
Now all do say, that this doth hear,  
the Tapster is a Knave.    
FINIS.   

London, Printed for William Gammon, and to be sold in Smithfield.