K. William & the plowman, or, Industry rewarded/The rakish butcher

The RAKISH BUTCHER.

WHEN first to London I did come,
I was a rakish blade. Sir,
I left my country and my home,
⁠for truth I had a trade, Sir.
I am a butcher to my trade,
⁠and that you may all see, sirs,
And of no man I am afraid,
⁠but what is that to thee sirs?

My apron is off from the sheep,
⁠as white as any snow, Sir
My trade makes all the lasses skip,
⁠wherever they do go, Sir.
Oftimes I made their aprons high,
⁠at playing at their riggs, Sir
Then I my home was forc'd to fly,
⁠or else to Bridwell drag, Sir.

So here's success unto my trade,
⁠we are Knights of the steel. Sir;
The lasses like the butcher blade,
⁠'cause they blow up their veal, Sir.
But now I'm married to a wife.
⁠I'll leave no more the rakish blade, Sir;
And stay at home now all my life
⁠a working at my trade, Sir.