I love thee for thy blobber lips, Tis good thrift I suppose, They’re dripping-pans unto thy eyes, And save-alls to thy nose. _Venus her self_, &c. 8. I love thee for thy huncht back, ’Tis bow’d although not broken, For I believe the Gods did send Me to Thee for a Token. _Venus her self_, &c. 9. I love thee for thy pudding wast, If a Taylor thou do’st lack, Thou need’st not send to _France_ for one, Ile fit thee with a sack. _Venus her self_, &c. 10. I love thee for thy lusty thighes For tressels thou maist boast, Sweet-heart thou hast a water-mill, And these are the mill-posts. _Venus her self_, &c. [11.] 10. I love thee for thy splay feet, They’re fooles that thee deride, Women are alwaies most esteem’d, When their feet are most wide. _Venus her self may comelier be_, &c. _On a TINKER._ He that a Tinker, a Tinker, a Tinker will be, Let him leave other Loves, and come follow me. Though he travells all the day, Yet he comes home still at night, And dallies, dallies with his Doxie, And dreames of delight. His pot and his tost in the morning he takes, And all the day long good musick he makes; He wanders up and down to Wakes & to Fairs, He casts his cap, and casts his cap at the Court and its cares; And when to the town the Tinker doth come, Oh, how the wanton wenches run, Some bring him basons, and some bring him bowles, All maids desire him to stop up their holes. _Prinkum Prankum_ is a fine dance, strong Ale is good in the winter, And he that thrumms a wench upon a brass pot, The child may prove a Tinker. With tink goes the hammer, the skellit and the scummer, Come bring me thy copper kettle, For the Tinker, the Tinker, the merry merry Tinker Oh, he’s the man of mettle. _Upon his Mistris’s black Eye-browes._