An honest Countryman had got Behind his House a pretty Spot, Of Garden Ground, with all what might Contribute to the Taste and Sight, The Rose and Lilly, which have been Still kept to compliment the Skin, Poppies renown'd for giving ease, With Roman Lettice, Endive, Pease, And Beans, which Nat'ralists do reckon To be so ominous to Bacon. The Beds were dung'd, the Walks well swept, And every thing was nicely kept. Only a Hare wou'd now and then Spite of the Master and the Men Make raking work for half a day, Then fill her Gut and scow'r away. In vain they beat and search the Ground, The cunning Jilt can ne'er be found, The Master once in angry Mood } Starts up and swears by all that's good, } He'd be revenged, that he would. } Runs to a Country Knight his Neighbour, And there complains how all his labour Was spoil'd by one confounded Hare, Which though the'd watch'd her every where He nor his People ne'er could catch, And of a certain was a Witch. His Worship smiles and promises To rid him of the Sawcy Puss. At break of Day _Jack_ winds his Horn, The Beagles scamper thro' the Corn; Deep mouth'd Curs set up a Cry, And make a cursed Symphony. Now stir you Rogues; the Knight is come With _Robin_, _Lightfoot_, _Dick_ and _Tom_. The House is full of Dogs and Boys, And ev'ry where's a horrid Noise, Well, Landlord, Come, What shall we do? Must w' eat a Bit before we go? What have you got? Now all's fetch'd out, The Victuals rak'd, and tore about. One pairs the Loaf, another Groom } Draws Beer, as if he was at home, } And spils it half about the Room. } What Horseman's yonder at the Door? Why, Faith, there's half a dozen more: They're Gentlemen, that live at Court, Come down the Country for some Sport; Some old Acquaintance of the Knight, Who whips from Table, bids 'em light. They ask no Questions but sit down, Fall too as if it was their own. One finishes the Potted Salmon, Then swears, because he had no Lemon. Good Lord, how sharp the Rogues are set! It puts my Landlord in a Sweat. His Daughter comes with fresh Supplies Of Collard Beef, and Apple-pies. His Worship falls aboard of her; The modest Creature quakes for fear. When do we marry Mistress _Ann_? Who is to be the happy Man? He takes her Hand, and chucks her Chin, Stares in her Face, commends her Skin, Removes her Linnen, shews her Neck; There's Milk, and Blood, Gad take me _Jack_. She blushes, and he vows she is A pretty Girl, then takes a Kiss; She don't consent, nor dares deny, Defends herself respectfully; And now the Knight would let her go; } Another Rake cries, Damme no: } I'll have a Kiss as well as you. } He hugs her close, then calls her Dear, And whispers bawdy in her Ear.