The moral of this tale is proper, WILL WOOD'S PETITION TO THE 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; They'll give you delight; They'll sell to my grief, As cheap as neckbeef, For counters at cards to your wife: Your children may play 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, 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, For one you'll have twenty, Though thousands are not worth a pudden. * Your neighbours will think, When your pocket cries chink, You are grown plaguy rich on a sudden. You will be my thankers, I'll make you my bankers, 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; His fivepence will prove but a farthing a day, For meat, or for drink; or he must run away. 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; 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, For taking these counters, and being so rash, Will be kick'd out of doors, both himself and his trash. Which, &c. For, in all the leases that ever we hold, We must pay our rent in good silver and gold, And not in brass tokens of such a base mould. :: Which, &c. The wisest of lawyers all swear, they will warrant No money but silver and gold can be current; And, since they will swear it, we all may be sure o'n't. Which, &e. And, I think, after all, it would be very strange, To give current money for base in exchange, Like a fine lady swopping her moles for the mange, Which, &c. 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 |