Volume 5 — A Ballad
Reading edition
In Praise of a certain Commander in the City.
[Listen]
A Heroe of no small Renown, But noted for a Man of Mettle; Thro’ all the Parts of London Town, No Gentleman, nor yet a Clown, No grave wise man, nor stupid Beetle. By many Deeds of Prowess done, He’s gain’d a matchless Reputation; Perform’d by neither Sword nor Gun, But by what means you’ll know anon, And how he work’d his Preservation. Well mounted on a noble Steed, With Sword and Pistol charg’d before him; Altho’ we must confess indeed, Of either Arms there was no need, His Conduct did alone secure him. With’s Wife upon a single Horse, T’wards Eppin both rid out together; But what than ill Luck can be worse, A High-way-Man of equal Force, Alass, obstructed both their Pleasure. With Pistol cock’d he made demand, And told them he must have their Money; The Major wisely would not stand, Nor on his Pistols clap a Hand, He was not such a Fighting Tony. But spur’d away as swift as Wind, No Elk or Tyger could run faster; Was ever Man so stout and kind, To leave his frighted Wife behind, Expos’d to such a sad Disaster. Her Necklace, Cloaths and Diamond Ring, The greedy Robber quickly fell to; One Petticoat he let her bring Away with Smock, and t’other Thing, To let her noble Heroe smell to. This Slight bred sad domestick Strife, Altho’ the Man’s to be commended; For what’s a loving handsome Wife, To a Man’s Money or his Life, For all is lost when that is ended.
