| T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22. | | | | Tom and Doll | | Anonymous |
| | (From Pills to Purge Melancholy, 1719) |
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WHEN the Kine had given a Pail full, | |
| And the Sheep came bleating home; | |
| Doll who knew it would be healthful, | |
| Went a walking with young Tom: | |
| Hand in hand, Sir, | 5 |
| O’er the Land, Sir, | |
| As they walked to and fro; | |
| Tom made jolly Love to Dolly, | |
| But was answer’d, No, no, no, no, no, &c. | |
| |
| Faith, says Tom, the time is fitting, | 10 |
| We shall never get the like; | |
| You can never get from Knitting, | |
| Whilst I’m digging in the Dike: | |
| Now we’re gone too, | |
| And alone too, | 15 |
| No one by to see or know; | |
| Come, come, Dolly, prithee shall I, | |
| Still she answered, No, no, no, no, &c. | |
| |
| Fie upon you Men, quoth Dolly, | |
| In what snares you’d make us fall; | 20 |
| You’ll get nothing but the folly, | |
| But I shall get the Devil and all: | |
| Tom with sobs, | |
| And some dry Bobs, | |
| Cry’d, you’re a fool to argue so; | 25 |
| Come, come, Dolly, shall I? shall I? | |
| Still she answered, No, no, no, no, &c. | |
| |
| To the Tavern then he took her, | |
| Wine to Love’s a Friend confest | |
| By the hand he often shook her, | 30 |
| And drank brimmers to the best, &c. | |
| Doll grew warm, | |
| And thought no harm; | |
| Till after a brisk pint or two, | |
| To what he said the silly Maid, | 35 |
| Could hardly bring out, No, no, no, no, etc. | |
| |
| She swore he was the prettiest Fellow | |
| In the Country or the Town, | |
| And began to grow so mellow, | |
| On the Couch he laid her down; | 40 |
| Tom came to her, | |
| For to woo her | |
| Thinking this the time to try: | |
| Something past so kind at last, | |
| Her no was chang’d to I, I, I, I, I, I, &c. | 45 |
| |
| Closely then they join’d their Faces, | |
| Lovers you know what I mean; | |
| Nor could she hinder his Embraces, | |
| Love was now too far got in; | |
| Both now lying, | 50 |
| Panting, dying, | |
| Calms succeed the stormy Joy, | |
| Tom would fain renew’t again, | |
| And she consents with I, I, I, I, I, I, &c. | | | |
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