Post by Tom Wagner on Jun 25, 2008 20:28:32 GMT -8
www.fromoldbooks.org/Farmer-MusaPedestris/the-potato-man.html
It will not translate totally, as some words get kinda thingy.
Collecting potato poems may seem trivial, but for a laugh or two!
The Potato Man
1775
from The Ranelaugh Concert...a choice collection of the newest songs sung at all the public places of entertainment.
I
I am a saucy rolling blade, (fellow)
I fear not wet nor dry,
I keep a jack ass for my trade,
And thro’ the streets do cry
Chorus. And they all rare potatoes be!
And they’re, etc.
II
A moll I keep that sells fine fruit, (mistress)
There’s no one brings more cly; (money; Notes)
She has all things the seasons suit,
While I my potatoes cry.
Chorus. And they all, etc.
III
A link boy once I stood the gag, (cry out)
At Charing Cross did ply,
Here’s light your honor for a mag, (halfpenny)
But now my potatoes cry.
Chorus. And they all, etc.
IV
With a blue bird’s eye about my squeeg, (handkerchief)
And a check shirt on my back, (Notes; neck).
A pair of large wedges in my hoofs,
And an oil skin round my hat.
Chorus. And they all, etc.
V
I’ll bait a bull or fight a thingy,
Or pigeons I will fly;
I’m up to all your knowing rigs (smart tricks)
Whilst I my potatoes cry.
Chorus. And they all, etc.
VI
There’s five pounds two-pence honest weight
Your own scales take and try;
For nibbing culls I always hate, (cheating dealers)
And I in safety cry.
Chorus. And they all, etc.
It will not translate totally, as some words get kinda thingy.
Collecting potato poems may seem trivial, but for a laugh or two!
The Potato Man
1775
from The Ranelaugh Concert...a choice collection of the newest songs sung at all the public places of entertainment.
I
I am a saucy rolling blade, (fellow)
I fear not wet nor dry,
I keep a jack ass for my trade,
And thro’ the streets do cry
Chorus. And they all rare potatoes be!
And they’re, etc.
II
A moll I keep that sells fine fruit, (mistress)
There’s no one brings more cly; (money; Notes)
She has all things the seasons suit,
While I my potatoes cry.
Chorus. And they all, etc.
III
A link boy once I stood the gag, (cry out)
At Charing Cross did ply,
Here’s light your honor for a mag, (halfpenny)
But now my potatoes cry.
Chorus. And they all, etc.
IV
With a blue bird’s eye about my squeeg, (handkerchief)
And a check shirt on my back, (Notes; neck).
A pair of large wedges in my hoofs,
And an oil skin round my hat.
Chorus. And they all, etc.
V
I’ll bait a bull or fight a thingy,
Or pigeons I will fly;
I’m up to all your knowing rigs (smart tricks)
Whilst I my potatoes cry.
Chorus. And they all, etc.
VI
There’s five pounds two-pence honest weight
Your own scales take and try;
For nibbing culls I always hate, (cheating dealers)
And I in safety cry.
Chorus. And they all, etc.
