30 Jul 00 - 01:38 PM (#267927)
Subject: Thomas Whittell His Humourous Letter
From: *Conrad Bladey Peasant-Inactive
Thomas Whittell, his Humourous Letter To Good Master Moody, Razor-setter. Good Master Moody, my beard being cloudy,
My cheeks, chin, and lips, like moon i' the 'elipse
For want of a wipe--
I send you a razor, if you'll be at leisure
To grind her, and set her, and make her cut better,
You'll e'en light my pipe. * Dear sir, you know little, the case of poor Whittell:
I'm courting, tantivy, if you will believe me---
Now mark what I say:
I'm frank in my proffers, and when I make offers
To kiss the sweet creature, my lips cannot meet her,
My beard stops in the way. You've heard my condition, and now I petition,
That, without omission, with all expedition
You'll give it a strike,
And send it by Tony, he'll pay you the money--
I'll shave and look bonny, and go to my honey,
As snod as you like. If you do not you'll hip me, my sweetheart will slip me,
And if I should smart for't and break my brave heart for't.
Are you not to blame?
But if you'll oblige me, as gratitude guides me,
I'll still be your servant, obedient and fervent,
Whilst Whittell's my name. *this phrase means, the conferring of a vacour. -In: The Newcastle Song Book or Tyne-Side Songster., W&T Fordyce
Newcastle Upon Tyne.
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