After his death, many of Thomas Rowlandson’s prints were sold by publishers like John Camden Hotten as broadsides along with bawdy texts; sometimes they were left black and white, sometimes (and more expensively) coloured. The ten verses shown here were first published in 1845 as a set wittily entitled Pretty Little Games for Young Ladies & Gentlemen, with Pictures of Good Old English Sports and Pastimes; they were unsurprisingly very popular, and continued to be reprinted up until the 1870s.

The words are not always easy to read, so here are the full texts.

THE SANCTIFIED SINNER

For all this canting fellow’s teaching
He loves a girl as well as preaching.
With holy love he rolls his eyes
Yet seem his stout man Thomas rise.
Tis sure enough to make it stand
To have it stroked by such a hand;
When flesh and spirit both combine
His raptures sure must be divine.

THE TOSS OFF

As Maramount her music grinds
Live a pleasing parson finds.
He calls the little mentor on
And tells his wishes with a grin.
She takes the circumciséd part
And plus her hand with easy art
The spouting tube emits amain
Which causes Jovis awkward pain.
The Christian girl you understand
Shall take a Jewish thing in hand.

NEW FEATS OF HORSEMANSHIP

Well mounted on a mettled steed
Famed for his strength as well as speed,
Carrunna and her favourite buck
Are pleas’d to have a flying f—k.
While oer the downs the courser strains
With fiery eye and loosened reins,
Around his neck her arms she flings
Behind her buttocks more like springs,
While Jack keeps time to every motion
And pours in love’s delicious potion.

RURAL FELICITY OR LOVE IN A CHAISE

The winds were hush’d, the evening clear,
The prospect fair, no creatures near,
When the fond couple in the chaise
Resolved each mutual wish to please.
The kneeling youth his vigour tries
While oer his back she lifts her thighs.
The trotting horse the bliss increases
And all is showing love and kisses.
What couple would not take the air
To taste such joys beyond compare.

THE CURIOUS WANTON

Miss Chloe in a wanton way
Her dingaling would needs survey,
Before the glass displays her thighs
And at the sight with wonder cries.
Is this the thing that day and night
Make men fall out and madly fight,
The source of sorrow and of joy
Which king and beggar both employ.
How grim it looks! Yet enter in
You’ll find a fund of sweets begin.

THE LARKING CULL

While on the bed the nymphs reclined
Damons resolved to please his mind.
His generation tube he shews
Between her swelling breasts it goes.
His fingers to her touch hole sent
Alas to give her small content,
A larger thing would give more pleasure,
She always loves to have full measure.
And who for greater joys do hunt
Than rising bubbies and a c—t.

THE WILLING FAIR, OR ANY WAY TO PLEASE

The happy captain full of wine
Forms with the fair a new design,
Across his legs the nymph he takes
And with St George a motion makes.
She ever ready in her way
His pike of pleasure keeps in play,
Rises and falls with gentle ease
And tries her best his mind to please.
Ah! happy captain, charming sport!
Who would not storm so kind a fort?

THE COUNTRY SQUIRE NEW MOUNTED

The country squire to London came
And left behind his dogs and game,
Yet fairer sport he has in view
And hunts the hare and cony too.
The lovely lass her charms displays
She likes the hunt and he obeys.
Within the tavern view the fair
Each leg supported on a chair,
Her buttocks on the table seated
By which the squire’s joy’s completed.

THE WANTON FROLIC

Upon the carpet Cloe laid
Her heels toss’d higher than her head.
No more her cloaths her beautys hide
But all is seen in native pride,
While Stephen kneeling smiles to see
A thing so fit for love and he
His amorous sword of pleasure draws
Blest instrument in nature’s cause;
The panting fair one waits its touch
And thinks it not a bit too much.

THE HAIRY PROSPECT OR THE DEVIL IN A FRIGHT

Once on a time the sire of evil
In plainer English call’d the devil
Some new experiment to try
At Chloe cast a roguish eye.
But she who all his arts defies
Pull’d up and show’d her sexes pride,
A thing all shagg’d about with hair
So much it made old Satan stare,
Who frighten’d at the grim display
Takes to his heels and runs away.