VII.

TO THE TUNE OF THE CUT-PURSE. Written in the year 1703 *.

I.

ONCE on a time, as old stories rehearse,
A friar would needs shew his talent in Latin,
But was sorely put to it in the midst of a verse,
Because he could find no word to come pat in;
Then all in the place

He left a void space,

And so went to bed in a desperate case:

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When behold the next morning a wonderful riddle! He found it was strangely fill'd up in the middle. 9

CHORUS.

Let censuring critics then think what they list on't; Who would not write verses with such an assistant? II.

This put me the friar into an amazement,

For he wisely consider'd it must be a sprite

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That came thro' the key-hole, or in at the casement, And it needs must be one that could both read and

Yet he did not know

If it were friend or foe,

Or whether it came from above or below:

[write :

* Lady Betty Berkeley, finding in the Author's room some verses unfinished, underwrit a stanza of her own with raillery upon him, which gave occasion to this ballad, written by the Author in a counterfeit hand, as if a third person had done it. See the preceding ballad.

Howe'er, it was civil in angel or elf,

For he ne'er could have fill'd it so well of himself. CHO. Let censuring, &c.

HI.

Even so Master Doctor had puzzled his brains
In making a ballad, but was at a stand;

He had mix'd little wit with a great deal of pains,
When he found a new help from invisible hand. 25
Then, good Doctor Swift!

Pay thanks for the gift,

For you freely must own you were at a dead lift; And tho' some malicious young spirit did do't, You may know by the hand it had no cloven foot. CHO. Let censuring, &c.

VIII. AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG.

ON A SEDITIOUS PAMPHLET *.

To the Tune of Packington's Pound.
Written in the year 1720.

I.

BROCADOES and damasks, and tabbies, and gauzes, Are by Robert Ballentine lately brought over,

Dr. Swift having wrote a treatise, advising the people of Ireland to wear their own manufactures, a prosecution was set on foot against Waters the printer thereof, which was carried on with so much violence, that the then Lord Chief Justice, one Whitshed, thought proper, in a manner the most extraordinary, to keep the grand jury above twelve hours, and to send them eleven times out of court, until he had wearied them into a special verdict.

With forty things more: now hear what the law says, Whoe'er will not wear them is not the King's lover. Tho' a Printer and Dean

Seditiously mean

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Our true Irish hearts from old England to wean, We'll buy English silks for our wives and our daughters,

In spite of his Deanship and journeyman Waters.

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In England the dead in woollen are clad,
The Dean and his Printer then let us cry Fy on;
To be cloth'd like a carcass would make a Teague

mad,

Since a living dog better is than a dead lion.

Our wives they grow sullen

At wearing of woollen,

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And all we poor shopkeepers must our horns pull in: Then we'll buy English silks for our wives and our daughters,

In spite of his Deanship and journeyman Waters.

III.

Whoever our trading with England would hinder,
To inflame both the nations do plainly conspire, 20
Because Irish linen will soon turn to tinder,

And wool it is greasy and quickly takes fire:
Therefore I assure ye

Our noble grand jury,

When they saw the Dean's book they were in a

great fury;

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They would buy English silks for their wives and their daughters, 『ན་

In spite of his Deanship and journeyman Waters.

IV.

This wicked rogue Waters, who always is sinning, And before corum nobus so oft' has been call'd, 29 Henceforward shall print neither pamphlets nor linen, And, if swearing can do't, shall be swingingly maul'd:

And as for the Dean,

You know whom I mean,

[clean. If the Printer will 'peach him he'll scarce come off Then we'll buy English silks for our wives and our daughters,

In spite of his Deanship and journeyman Waters. 36

IX. WILL. WOOD'S PETITION

TO THE PEOPLE OF IRELAND.,

Being an excellent New Song,

L

Supposed to be made and sung in the Streets of Dublin by William Wood Ironmonger and Halfpenny

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 glister and shine.

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II..

They'll sell, to my grief,

As cheap as neck-beef,

For counters at cards to your wife
And every day

Your children may play
Span-farthing, or Toss on the knife.

Come hither and try,

III.

I'll teach you to buy

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*.

IV.

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.

V.

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.

* The Drapier's printer.

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