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The moral of this tale is proper,
Apply'd to Wood's adulterate copper:
Which, as he scatter'd, we like dolts
Mistook at first for thunderbolts,
Before the Drapier shot a letter,
(Nor Jove himself could do it better)
Which, lighting on th' impostor's crown,
Like real thunder knock'd him down.

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:
And every day

Your children may play
Spanfarthing, or toss on the knife.

Come hither, and try;
I'll teach you to buy

1725.

A pot

A pot of good ale for a farthing:
Come; threepence a score,

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:
My copper is such,

No robber will touch,

And so you may daintily bob him.

The little blackguard,
Who gets very hard

His halfpence for cleaning your shoes:
When his pockets are cramm'd

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,
As good as Ben Burton or Fade:†
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.
If my coin will not pass,

I must die like an ass;
And so I conclude my petition.

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

When he pulls out his twopence, the tapster says not,
That ten times as much he must pay for his shot;
And thus the poor soldier must soon go to pót.
Which, &c.

If he goes to the baker, the baker will huff,
And twentypence have for a twopenny loaf,
Then, dog, rogue, and rascal, and so kick and cuff.
Which, &c.

Again, to the market whenever he goes,
The butcher and soldier must be mortal foes,
One cuts off an ear, and the other a nose.

Which, &c.

The butcher is stout, and he values no swagger;
A cleaver's a match any time for a dagger,
And a blue sleeve may give such a cuff as may
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.
Which, &c.

The squire possess'd of twelve thousand a year,
O Lord; What a mountain his rents would appear!
Should he take them, he would not have house-
room I fear.

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,
That no man need take them but who has a mind,
For which we must say that his Majesty's kind.
Wlrich, &c.

Now God bless the Drapier who open'd our eyes!
I'm sure, by his book, that the writer is wise:
He shows us the cheat, from the end to the rise.
Which, &c.

Nay, farther he shows it a very hard case,
That this fellow Wood, of a very bad race,
Should of all the fine gentry of Ireland take place.

Which, &c.

That

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