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20 Songs Compleat,
The first that brake Ice was a Lass had been
Born of a good House, but decay'd ;
Her Gown was new Dy'd, and her Night-trail clean,
And to sing and talk French had been breed ;
She'd dance Northern Nancy,
Ask'd Parler vous Fransay,
That Hodge might her breeding see,
She'd rowl her black Eye,
Breath short with a sigh,
When e'er she came nigh Twangdillo, Twang, &c.
The next was a Sempstress of Stature Low,
That fancy'd she wanted a Male,
Her Hair as black as an Autumn Sloe,
And hard as a Coach-horses Tail :
She'd Oagle and Wheedle,
And prick with her Needle ;
What d' lack, what d' buy, cry'd she ?
But now the brisk Tone,
Is chang'd to a Groan,
Ah ! pity my moan, Twangdillo, Twang, &c.
A musty old Chamber-maid lean and tall,
The next as a Suitor appears,
With a Tongue loud and shrill, but no Teeth at all,
For time had drawn them many Years :
Cast Gowns and such Lumber,
Old Smocks without number,
She bragg'd should her Dowry be,
Forty pair of Lac'd Shoes,
Ribbons Green, Red and Blews,
But all would not Noose Twangdillo, Twang, &c.
The next was a Lass of a Popish strain,
That Jesuite Whims had been taught,
She bragg'd they shou'd soon have King J s
Tho' her Spouse was late hang'd for the Plot ;
The French would come over,
And land here at Dover,

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