THE
BLUE VEIN,
A TRUE WELCH STORY.
I.
Ye fun-loving fellows for comical tales,
Match this if you can, truly current in Wales;
The bible so old, and the testament new,
Have none more authentic, more faithful, or true.
Four frisky maidens, young, handsome, and plump,
Who cou’d each crack a flea on their bubbies or rump,
Took it into their heads, just to bother the tail
Of Ned Natty, a groom, so they jalap’d his ale.
II.
Now Ned on red herrings that ev’ning did sup,
So he drank ev’ry drop of the gripe-giving cup,
Soon his guts ’gan to grumble, and shortly Ned found
His bowels give way, and his body unbound:
The buckskin’s gay leather, by gallows confin’d,
Could not be cut down ’till indecently lin’d,
This made Neddy’s P—o, accustom’d to sprout,
Shrink into his belly, and turn up his snout.
III.
The time this damn’d jalap in Ned’s belly lurk’d,
No post-horse like Neddy was ever so work’d,
Three nights and three days he lay squirting in bed,
And neither could hold up his tail nor his head:
The storm, at length, ceasing, purg’d Ned ’gan to think
On some revenge sweet for this damnable stink,
“For I’m damn’d,” exclaim’d Ned, “if these bitches shan’t find
“That I’m cabbag’d before, tho’ I’m loosen’d behind.”
IV.
’Twas early one morn, exercising his steed,
Ned saw an old gipsey hag crossing the mead,
Straight he hail’d her, and said, “Woman, where do you hie?”
She replied, “to tell fortunes of females hard by”:
Now these females Ned found were his jalapping friends,
So he thought it the season to make them amends,
Then he brib’d for the cant, and the gipsey’s old cloaths;
Thus equipp’d, said Ned, trick for trick, damn me, here goes.
V.
First Molly, the cook-maid, he took by the hand,
From her greasy palm, told her what fortune had plann’d,
She was soon to be married, each year have a brat,
“Indeed,” cried the cooky, “how can you tell that?”
“I’ll tell you the number,” said Ned, “let me see
The blue vein that’s low plac’d ’twixt the navel and knee,”
When she pull’d up her cloaths, Ned exclaim’d, “I declare
Your blue vein I can’t see, ’tis so cover’d with hair.”
VI.
Next dairy-maid Dolly, of letchery full,
Swore she was then breeding, for she’d had the bull;
To the gipsey, said Doll, “can you, old woman, tell
Whether bull or cow calf make my belly so swell?”
When he view’d her blue vein, he said, “Doll, by my troth,
You must find out two fathers, for you will have both,”
For the squire and the curate, when heated with ale,
Doll Dairy had milk’d in her amorous pail.
VII.
Now Kitty, the house-maid, so frisky and fair,
Who smelt none the sweeter for carrotty hair,
Presenting her palm to the gipsey so shrewd,
Was candidly told that her nature was lewd:
While feeling the vein near her gold-girted nick,
Kate play’d the old gipsey a slippery trick,
So Kate, that had ne’er been consider’d a whore,
Was told she’d miscarried the morning before.
VIII.
Then came Peggy the prude, who no bawdy could bear,
Yet wou’d tickle the lap-dog while combing his hair;
“Is the butler, my sweetheart,” said Peggy, “sincere,
“And shall we be married, pray, gipsey, this year?”
Quoth the gipsey, “you’ll have him for better or worse,
“But you’ll find that his corkscrew is not worth a curse;
“So when you are wed, ’twill be o’er the town talk’d,
“There goes Peggy, a bottle, most damnably cork’d.”
IX.
Now Ned, thus reveng’d, bid the maidens good day,
But, curious, they ask’d him a moment to stay,
For said Molly, the cook-maid, “we all long to see
“If you’ve a blue vein ’twixt the navel and knee:”
Ned pull’d up his cloaths, Sir, when to their surprise,
They beheld his blue vein of a wonderful size,
The sight Kate the carrotty couldn’t withstand,
She grasp’d the blue vein ’till it burst in her hand.
X.
So alarm’d, the prude Peggy fell into strong fits,
Frighten’d cook and Doll dairy went out of their wits;
Then carrotty Kitty to gipsey Ned spoke,
“We’ll each give a guinea to stifle the joke:”
But Ned swore that no money should silence his tongue,
That the tale should be told in a mirth-moving song;
“As a caution,” cry’d Ned, “to all Abigails frail,
“That there’s more fun in f—g than jalapping ale.”
XI.
The story like wildfire o’er Cambria was spread,
From the borders of Chester, to fam’d Holyhead,
In a vein of good humour, the vein that is blue,
Will long be remember’d by me and by you:
Then fill a bright bumper to honour this vein,
A bumper of pleasure to badger all pain;
So hear us, celestials, gay mortals below!
Drink c—t, the blue vein, wherein floods of joy flow.