Page:Belfast maid's lamentation for the loss of her sweetheart.pdf/4

 E bloods and ye bucks that rove thro' the city,

Step into Rag-fair, you'll ſee humours pretty,

There's Dolly and Fanny, and amorous Kitty,

Each pleaſant evening a bart'ring their were;

There you'll ſee ſaleſmen & double-band dealers,

The doors are adorn'd with parrots and taylors,

Beer-houſes in plenty to call jolly ſailors,

I mean the Weſt ens, Sir, of Roſemary Lane.

Some Billingſgate faggots their fiſh are a crying,

With ſtrong beer and gin their goblets are plying,

Every corner adorn'd with women a plying,

Breeches for weavers and dreſſers of hair,

Confectioners, chandlers, and pye-ſhops in plenty,

Supplying each perſon with bits that are dainty,

Mouutebank doctors to cure all that are tainty,

That ſmack of the ſweets of Roſemary Lane.

In midſt of the throng, hear old clothes a bauling,

Old hat folks, old ſhoe folks,old wig folks, are calling,

The barkers the paſſengers pulling and hauling,

Do you want clothes, Sir? yes, this is their game;

Meazley pork; rotten bacon, and ſauſages frying,

Stinking beef,veal & mutton, greazy fellows a crying,

The ſcent almoſt Rifles you as you paſs by them,

So delicious the food, Sir, in Roſemary Lane.

Some picking of pockets, and uſurers cheating,

Pawnbrokers and Jews are a filching and ſtealing,

Some whores in their cellars their fates bewailing,

By means of the fire they carry in their tail;

From Wapping, Denmark ſtreet, the Banks of Saltpetre

Each flaſh doth repair to ſcreen from the weather,

Where knave, thief, & whore do all cling together,

Seronading the humours of Roſemary Lane.