An Eighteenscore's a figure dance, but _Grandsire_
Hath the Jig-steps! & Tendrings Peal doth answer
The manner of _Corants_: A plain Six-score,
Is like a _Saraband_, the motion slower.
When Bells Ring round, and in their Order be,
They do denote how Neighbours should agree;
But if they Clam, the harsh sound spoils the sport,
And 'tis like Women keeping _Dover_ Court
For when all talk, there's none can lend an ear
The others story, and her own to hear;
But pull and hall, straining for to sputter
What they can hardly afford time to utter.
Like as a valiant Captain in the Field,
By his Conduct, doth make the Foe to yield;
Ev'n so, the leading Bell keeping true time,
The rest do follow, none commits a Crime:
But if one Souldier runs, perhaps a Troop
Seeing him gone, their hearts begin to droop;
Ev'n so the fault of one Bell spoils a Ring,
(And now my _Pegasus_ has taken Wing.)




Upon the Presentation of GRANDSIRE BOB To the COLLEDGE-YOUTHS,
By the AUTHOR of that PEAL.


Gentlemen of the Noble Crew
Of _Colledge-Youths_, there lately blew