Bawd Ballads

Sylvia the fair, in the bloom of Fifteen
Felt an innocent warmth, as she lay on the green;
She had heard of a pleasure, and something she guest
By the towzing and tumbling and touching her Breast:
She saw the men eager, but was at a loss,
What they meant by their sighing and kissing so close;
    By their praying and whining,
    And clasping and twining,
    And panting and wishing,
    And sighing and kissing,
    And sighing and kissing so close.
 
Ah she cry'd, ah for a languishing Maid
In a Country of Christians to die without aid!
Not a Whig, or a Tory, or Trimmer at least,
Or a Protestant Parson or Catholick Priest,
To instruct a young Virgin that is at a loss
What they meant by their sighing and kissing so close;
    By their praying and whining,
    And clasping and twining,
    And panting and wishing,
    And sighing and kissing,
    And sighing and kissing so close.
 
Cupid in Shape of a Swayn did appear,
He saw the sad wound, and in pity drew near,
Then show'd her his Arrow, and bid her not fear,
For the pain was no more than a Maiden may bear;
When the balm was infus'd, she was not at a loss
What they meant by their sighing and kissing so close;
    By their praying and whining,
    And clasping and twining,
    And panting and wishing,
    And sighing and kissing,
    And sighing and kissing so close.

No, no; for my virginity,
    When I lose that, says Rose, I'll die:
Behind the elms, last night, cried Dick,
    Rose, were you not extremely sick?

Young Coridon and Phillis
Sate in a lovely Grove;
Contriving Crowns of Lillies,
Repeating Tales of Love:
And something else, but what I dare not name.

But as they were a Playing,
She oagled so the Swain;
It sav'd her plainly saying,
Let's kiss to ease our Pain;
And something else, but what I dare not name.

A thousand times he kiss'd her,
Laying her on the green:
But as he farther press'd her,
Her pretty Leg was seen:
And something else, but what I dare not name.

So many Beauties removing,
His Ardour still increas'd
And greater Joys pursuing,
He wander'd o'er her Breast:
And something else, but what I dare not name.

A last Effort she trying,
His Passion to withstand;
Cry'd, but it was faintly crying,
Pray take away your Hand:
And something else, but what I dare not name.

Young Coridon grown bolder,
The Minute would improve;
This is the Time he told her,
To shew you how I love; 
And something else, but what I dare not name.

The Nymph seem'd almost dying,
Dissolv'd in amorous Heat;
She kiss'd, and told him sighing,
My Dear your Love is great:
And something else, but what I dare not name.

But Phillis did recover
Much sooner than the Swain;
She blushing ask'd her Lover,
Shall we not Kiss again:
And something else, but what I dare not name.

Thus Love his Revels keeping,
'Till Nature at a stand;
From talk they fell to Sleeping,
Holding each others Hand;
And something else, but what I dare not name.

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Whilst Alexis lay pressed
In her arms he loved best,
With his hands round her neck,
And his head on her breast,
He found the fierce pleasure too hasty to stay,
And his soul in the tempest just flying away.

When Celia saw this,
With a sigh and a kiss,
She cried, 'Oh, my dear, I am robbed of my bliss;
'Tis unkind to your love, and unfaithfully done,
To leave me behind you, and die all alone.'

The youth, though in haste,
And breathing his last,
In pity died slowly, while she died more fast;
Till at length she cried, 'Now, my dear, let us go:
Now die, my Alexis, and I will die too.'

Thus entranced they did lie,
Till Alexis did try
To recover new breath, that again he might die:
Then often they died; but the more they did so,
The nymph died more quick, and the shepherd more slow.

Ye fam'd physicians of this place, 
Hear Strephon's and poor Chole's case. 
  Nor think that I am joking; 
When she wou'd, he cannot comply, 
When he wou'd drink, she's not a-dry; 
  And is not this provoking?

At night, when Strephon comes to rest, 
Chloe receives him on her breast, 
  With fondly-folding arms: 
Down, down he hangs his drooping head, 
Falls fast asleep, and lies as dead, 
  Neglecting all her charms.

Reviving when the morn returns, 
With rising flames young Strephon burns, 
  And fain, wou'd fain be doing:
But Chloe now, asleep or sick, 
Has no great relish for the trick, 
  And sadly balks his wooing.

O cruel and disast'rous case, 
When in the critical embrace 
  That only one is burning! 
Dear doctors, set this matter right, 
Give Strephon spirits over night, 
  Or Chloe in the morning.

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