| T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22. | | | | Song: “Methinks the Poor Town Has Been Troubled Too Long” | | By Charles Sackville, Earl of Dorset (1638–1706) |
| | (Music in Playford’s Choice Ayres, 1676)
METHINKS the poor Town has been troubled too long, | |
| With Phillis and Chloris in every Song; | |
| By Fools who at once, can both Love and Despair, | |
| And will never leave calling them Cruel and Fair: | |
| Which justly provokes me in Rhyme to express, | 5 |
| The truth that I know of my Bonny black Bess. | |
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| This Bess of my Heart, this Bess of my Soul, | |
| Has a Skin white as Milk, but Hair black as a Coal; | |
| She’s plump, yet with ease you may span round her Waist, | |
| But her round swelling Thighs can scarce be embraced: | 10 |
| Her Belly is soft, not a word of the rest, | |
| But I know what I mean, when I drink to the Best. | |
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| The Plow-man, and Squire, the Erranter Clown, | |
| At home she subdued in her Paragon Gown, | |
| But now she adorns the Boxes and Pit, | 15 |
| And the proudest Town Gallants are forced to submit: | |
| All Hearts fall a-leaping wherever she comes, | |
| And beat Day and Night, like my Lord Craven’s Drums. * * * * * | |
| But to those who have had my dear Bess in their Arms, | |
| She’s gentle and knows how to soften her Charms; | 20 |
| And to every Beauty can add a new Grace, | |
| Having learned how to Lisp, and to trip in her pace: | |
| And with Head on one side, and a languishing Eye, | |
| To Kill us with looking, as if she would Die. | | | | |
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