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The Chimney-Sweepers Song

Written by: William Strode | Biography
 Hath Christmas furr'd your Chimneys,
Or have the maides neglected,
Doe Fire-balls droppe from your Chimney's toppe,
The Pidgin is respected,
Looke up with feare and horror,
O how my mistresse wonders!
The streete doth crie, the newes doth flie,
The boyes they thinke it thunders.
Then up I rush with my pole and brush, I scowre the chimney's Jacket, I make it shine as bright as mine, When I have rub'd and rak'd it.
Take heed, ten groates you'le forfeit, The Maior will not have under, In vain is dung, so is your gun When brickes doe flie asunder: Let not each faggot fright ye, When threepence will me call in, The Bishopps foote is not worse than soote If ever it should fall in.
Up will I rush, etc.
The sent, the smoake ne're hurts me, The dust is never minded, Mine Eyes are glasse men sweare as I passe Or else I had bin blinded, For in the midst of Chimneys I laugh, I sing, I hollow, I chant my layes in Vulcan's praise As merry as the swallow.
Still up I rush, etc.
With Engines and devices I scale the proudest chimney, The Prince's throne to mine alone Gives place, the Starrs I climb ny.
I scorne all men beneath me While there I stand a scowring, All they below looke like a Crow, Or men on Paules a tow'ring.
Then downe I rush, etc.
And as I downeward rumble What thinke you is my lott then? A good neat's tongue in the inside hung, The maide hath it forgotten: If e're the wanton mingled My inke with soote I wist not, Howere the neate and harmless cheate Is worth a penny, is't not? Still doe I rush, etc.
Then cloth'd in soote and ashes I catch the maides that hast out, Whos'ere I meete with smutt I greete, And pounse their lipps and wastcote: But on the Sunday morning I looke not like a widgin, Soe brave I stand with a point in my bande Men ask if I be Pidgin.
Yet will I rush, etc.
Mulsacke I dare encounter For all his horne and feather, Ile lay him a crowne Ile roare him downe, I thinke heale ne'er come hether.
The Boyes that climbe like Crickets And steale my trade, Ile strippe them, By priviledge I, growne Chimney hy, Soone out of towne will whippe them.
Then will I rush, etc.



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