The moral of this tale is proper, WILL WOOD'S PETITION TO THE PEOPLE OF IRELAND. BEING AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG, SUPPOSED TO BE MADE AND SUNG IN THE STREETS OF DUBLIN, BY WILLIAM WOOD, IRONMONGER AND HALF-PENNYMONGER. My dear Irish folks, Come leave off your jokes, And buy up my halfpence so fine; So fair and so bright, They'll give you delight; Observe how they glisten and shine! They'll sell to my grief, As cheap as neckbeef, For counters at cards to your wife: Your children may play Spanfarthing, or toss on the knife. Come hither, and try; 1725. A pot A pot of good ale for a farthing: I ask you no more, And a fig for the Drapier and Harding.* When tradesmen have gold, The thief will be bold, By day and by night for to rob him: No robber will touch, And so you may daintily bob him. The little blackguard, Who gets very liard His halfpence for cleaning your shoes: With mine and be d-'d, He may swear he has nothing to lose. Here's halfpence in plenty, When your pocket cries chink, You will be my thankers, I'll make you my bankers, For nothing shall pass But my pretty brass, And then you'll be all of a trade. *The Drapier's printer. F. + Two famous bankers. F. I'm I'm a son of a whore If I have a word more To say in this wretched condition. I must die like an ass; A NEW SONG ON WOOD'S HALFPENCE, YE people of Ireland, both country and city, Come listen with patience, and hear out my ditty? At this time I'll choose to be wiser than witty. Which nobody can deny, The halfpence are coming, the nation's undoing, There's an end of your ploughing, and baking, and brewing; In short, you must all go to rack and to ruin. Which, &c. Both high men and low men, and thick men and tall men, And rich men and poor men, and free men and thrall men, Will suffer; and this man, and that map, and all men. Which, &c. The soldier is ruin'd, poor man! by his pay; Which, &c. When he pulls out his twopence, the tapster says not, If he goes to the baker, the baker will huff, Again, to the market whenever he goes, Which, &c. The butcher is stout, and he values no swagger; stagger. Which, &c. The beggars themselves will be broke in a trice, When thus their poor farthings are sunk in their price; When nothing is left they must live on their lice. The squire possess'd of twelve thousand a year, Which, &c. Though at present he lives in a very large house, There would then not be room in it left for a mouse; But the squire's too wise, he will not take a souse. Which, &c. The The farmer, who comes with his rent in this cash, trash. Which, &c. For, in all the leases that ever we hold, We must pay our rent in good silver and gold, The wisest of lawyers all swear, they will warrant on't. may be sure Which, &c. And, I think, after all, it would be very strange, But read the king's patent, and there you will find, Now God bless the Drapier who open'd our eyes! Nay, farther he shows it a very hard case, Which, &c. That |