She need be no more with the jaundice poffeft, The next is an infect we call a wood-worm, That lies in old wood like a hare in her form; With teeth or with claws it will bite or will scratch, And chambermaids chriften this worm a death-watch; Because like a watch it always cries click: Then woe be to thofe in the house who are fick : For, as fure as a gun, they will give up the ghost, If the maggot cries click when it scratches the poft. But a kettle of fcalding hot water injected Infallibly cures the timber affected: The omen is broken, the danger is over; The maggot will die, and the fick will recover. Such a worm was Will Wood, when he fcratch'd at the door Of a governing ftatefman or favourite whore : The death of our nation he feem'd to foretell, Then chufe which you pleafe, and let each bring a faggot, Counterfeit half-pence. ON 7. 2 ON WOOD THE IRON-MONGER. SAL 17259 ALMONEUS, as the Grecian tale is, All ran to prayers, both priests and laity, When Jove, in pity to the town, With real thunder knock'd him down. They They laugh'd at such an Irish blunder, WILL WOOD'S PETITION TO THE PEOPLE OF IRELAND; Being an excellent NEW SONG, fuppofed to be made and fung in the Streets of DUBLIN, by WILLIAM WOOD, Iron-monger and Half-penny-monger. 1725. My dear Irish folks, Come leave off your jokes, And buy up my half-pence so fine; So fair and fo bright, They 'll give you delight; They'll fell, to my grief, For counters at cards to your wife; A Come hither, and try; I'll teach you to buy pot of good ale for a farthing: And a fig for the Drapier and Hardinge * The thief will be bold, By day and by night for to rob him : No robber will touch, The little black-guard, Who gets very hard His half-pence for cleaning your shoes: He may fwear he has nothing to lofe. Here's half-pence in plenty, For one you'll have twenty, Your neighbours will think, When your pocket cries chink, You will be my thankers, I'll make you my bankers, As good as Ben Burton or Fade † : *The Drapier's printer. Two famous bankers. For YE E people of Ireland, both country and city, Come liften with patience, and hear out my ditty: At this time I'll chuse to be wiser than witty. Which nobody can deny. The Half-pence 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, The Soldier is ruin'd, poor man! by his pay; |