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O happy Damon, happy fair,
what Cupid had begun,
May faithful Hymen take a care,
to see it fairly done.
The RAKISH BUTCHER.
WHEN first to London I did come,
I was a rakish blade. Sir,
I left my country and my home,
for truth I had a trade, Sir.
I am a butcher to my trade,
and that you may all see, sirs,
And of no man I am afraid,
but what is that to thee sirs?
My apron is off from the sheep,
as white as any snow, Sir
My trade makes all the lasses skip,
wherever they do go, Sir.
Oftimes I made their aprons high,
at playing at their riggs, Sir
Then I my home was forc'd to fly,
or else to Bridwell drag, Sir.
So here's success unto my trade,
we are Knights of the steel. Sir;
The lasses like the butcher blade,
'cause they blow up their veal, Sir.
But now I'm married to a wife.
I'll leave no more the rakish blade, Sir;
And stay at home now all my life
a working at my trade, Sir.
