Golden days of good Queen Bess (1)/The Golden Days of Good Queen Beſs

The Golden Days of Good Queen Beſs.

TO my muſe give attention,
⁠and deem it not a myſtery,
If we jumble together muſic,
⁠poetry, and hiſtory:
The times to diſplay in
⁠the days of Queen Beſs, Sir,
Whoſe name and whoſe mem’ry
⁠poſterity may bleſs, Sir.
O the golden days of good Queen Beſs;
⁠Merry be the memory of good Queen Beſs.

Then we laugh’d at the bugbears
⁠of Dons and Armadas,
With their gunpowder puffs,
⁠and their blustering bravadoes;
For we knew how to manage both
⁠the muſket and the bow, Sir,
And cou'd bring down a Spaniard
⁠just as eaſy as a crow, Sir. O the, &c.

Then our ſtreets were unpav’d
⁠and our houſes were thatch’d, Sir,
Our windows were lattic’d,
⁠and our doors only latch’d, Sir;
Yet ſo few were the folks that
⁠would plunder and rob, Sir,
That the Hangman was ſtarving
⁠for want of a job, Sir. O the, &c.

Then our Ladies with large ruffs tied
⁠round about the neck faſt,
Would gobble up a pound of
⁠beef-ſtakes for their breakfaſt;
While a cloſe quil’d-up coif
⁠their noddles juſt did fit, Sir,
And they truſs’d up as tight as a
⁠rabbit for the ſpit, Sir. O’the golden, &c.

Then jerkins, and doublets, and
⁠Yellow worſted hoſe, Sir,
With a huge pair of whiſkers,
⁠was the dreſs of our beaux, Sir:
Strong beer they preferred
⁠to claret, or to hock, Sir;
And no poultry they priz’d
⁠like the wing of an ox, Sir. O the, &c.

Good neighbourhood then was as
plenty too as beef, Sir;
And the pooreſt from the rich
⁠never wanted relief, Sir:
While merry went the mill-clack,
⁠the ſhuttle and the plow, Sir,
And honeſt people could live by
⁠the ſweet of their brow, Sir. O the, &c.

Then football, and wreſtling, and
⁠pitching of the bar, Sir,
Were preferr’d to a flute, to a
⁠fiddle, or guitar, Sir:
And for jaunting, and junketting,
⁠the favourite regale, Sir,
Was a walk as far as Chelſea,
⁠to demoliſh buns and ale, Sir. O the, &c.

Then the folks ev’ry Sunday
⁠went twice at leaſt to church, Sir,
And never left the Parſon or
⁠his ſermon in the lurch Sir;
For they judg’d that the Sabbath was
⁠for people to be good in Sir;
And they thought it Sabbath-breaking
⁠if they din’d without a pudding, Sir. &c.

Then our great men were good
⁠and our good men were great, Sir,
And the props of the nation were
⁠the pillars of the ſtate, Sir;
For the ſovereign and the ſubject
⁠one interſst ſupported,
And our powerful alliance by
⁠all pow’rs then was courted. O the, &c.

Then the High and Mighty States,
⁠to their everlaſting ſtain, Sir,
By Britons were reliev’d from,
⁠the galling yoke of Spain, Sir;
And the rouſed Britiſh Lion,
⁠had all Europe then combin’d, Sir,
Undiſmay’d would have ſcatter’d them,
⁠like chaff before the wind, Sir. O the, &c.

Thus they ate, and they drank,
⁠and they work’d; and they play’d, Sir,
Of their friends were not aſhamed,
⁠nor of enemies afraid, Sir:
And little, little did they think,
⁠when this ground they ſtood on, Sir,
To be ſo near drawn to the life,
⁠now they’re all dead and gone, Sir. &c.