BALLAD. (I'll tell you a story—a story that's…)

I'll tell you a story—a story that's true, A story that's tragic and comical too, 'Tis of a mischance that was ready to fall On this realm through the skylight of Westminster-hall.

Sing bags and briefs, bands, gowns, and other like rigs, Queues, bags, ties, and full-bottom wigs, wigs, wigs.

The court was just open'd, and each learned brother Preparing which readiest could puzzle the other, When on top of the house a poor ignorant wench Puzzled judge, jury, counsel, and all the whole bench.

Sing bags and briefs, &c.

Some say they a knotty dispute were upon, Of some trifle like perjury, bail, or crim. con. When this maid, with goodnature alone for her object, Wash'd the windows to let in some light on the subject.

Sing bags and briefs, &c.

Others say, and that boldly, this sly little quean Was determined to wash all their consciences clean; But that would have taken, so wrong was her notion, Instead of some drops, more than all the whole ocean.

Sing bags and briefs, &c.

But the lawyers, with consciences ever awake, Did the poor girl's civility strangely mistake, And augmenting this mouse to a mountain of evil, Took her mop for a pitch-fork, and her for the devil,

Sing bags and briefs, &c.

One appearing, however, less scar'd than the rest, Their absurd apprehensions soon turn'd to a jest; Crying, courage! old Nick will not take you this bout, He'll be punctual ne'er fear, but your time is not out.

Sing bags and briefs, &c.

And now, lest the roof on their noddles should fall, In two minutes deserted was Westminster-hall, Pris'ner, judge, and jew-bail 'gainst each other did squeeze, And the counsel bags, wigs, and all lost—but their fees.

Sing bags and briefs, &c.

No longer let France then her Joan of Arc boast, Of her country's stout foes who subdu'd a whole host, On the maid of the skylight more honour shall fall, For she routed the lawyers from Westminster-hall.

Sing bags and briefs, &c.