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* Newgate's GARLAND: Being a new Ballad, fhewing how Mr. Jonathan Wild's Throat was cut from Ear to Ear with a Penknife, by Mr. Blake, alias Bluefkin, the bold Highwayman, as he stood at his Trial in the Old-Baily, 1725.

To the Tune of the Cut-purse.

I.

E Gallants of Newgate, whofe Fingers are nice,

YE

In diving in Pockets, or cogging of Dice;

Ye Sharpers fo rich, who can buy off the Noofe,
Ye honefter poor Rogues, who die in your Shoes,
Attend and draw near,

Good News ye fhall hear,

How Jonathan's Throat was cut from Ear to Ear. How Blueskin's fharp Penknife hath fet you at Eafe, And Man round me may rob, if he plcafe.

every

II.

When to the Old-Baily this Blueskin was led,
He held up his Hand, his Indictment was read,
Loud rattled his Chains, near him Jonathan stood,
For full Forty Pounds was the Price of his Blood.

Then

Then hopeless of Life,

He drew his Penknise,

And made a fad Widow of Jonathan's Wife. But Forty Pounds paid her, her Grief fhall appease, And every Man round me may rob, if he please.

III.

Some fay there are Courtiers of highest Renown,
Who steal the King's Gold, and leave him but a Crown;
Some fay there are Peers, and fome Parliament Men,
Who meet once a Year to rob Courtiers agen:
Let them all take their Swing,

To pillage the King,

And get a Blue Ribbon instead of a String. Now Blueskin's fharp Penknife hath set you at Ease, And every Man round me may rob, if he please.

IV.

Knaves of old, to hide Guilt by their cunning Inventions,

Call'd Briberies Grants, and plain Robberies Penfions; Phyficians and Lawyers (who take their Degrees,) To be Learned Rogues (call'd their Pilfering Fees ;) Since this happy Day,

Now ev'ry Man may

Rob (as fafe as in Office) upon the Highway. For Blueskin's fharp Penknife hath set you at Ease, And ev'ry Man round me may rob, if he please.

V. Some

V.

Some cheat in the Customs, fome rob the Excife,
But he who robs both is esteemed moft wife.
Church-Wardens, too prudent to hazard the Halter,
As yet only venture to steal from the Altar :
But now to get Gold,

They may be more bold,

And rob on the Highway, fince Jonathan's cold. For Blueskin's fharp Penknife hath fet you at Eafe, And ev'ry Man round me may rob, if he please.

VI.

Some by publick Revenues, which pafs'd thro' their Hands,

Have purchas'd clean Houses, and bought dirty Lands.

Some to steal from a Charity think it no Sin, Which, at Home (fays the Proverb does always begin;) But, if ever you be

Affign'd a Trustee,

Treat not Orphans like Mafters of the Chancery, But take the Highway, and more honestly seize, For ev'ry Man round me may rob, if he please.

VII.

What a Pother has here been with Wood and his Brafs, Who would modeftly make a few Half-pennies pafs?

The

The Patent is good, and the Precedent's old,
For Diomede changed his Copper for Gold:

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But, if Ireland despise

The new Half-pennies,

With more Safety to rob on the Road I advise. For Blueskin's fharp Penknife hath fet thee at Eafe; And ev'ry Man round me may rob, if he please.

PROMETHEUS.

On Wood the

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Patentee's Irish Half-Pence.

WHEN

HEN firft the 'Squire and Tinker, Wood,
Gravely confulting Ireland's Good,

Together mingled in a Mass

Smith's Duft, and Copper, Lead, and Brass;

The Mixture thus by Chymick Art

United close in every Part,

In Fillets roll'd, or cut in Pieces,
Appear'd like one continu'd Species;
And by the forming Engine ftruck,
On all the fame Impreffion ftuck.

So to confound this hated Coin,
All Parties and Religions join;
Whigs, Tories, Trimmers, Hanoverians,
Quakers, Conformists, Presbyterians,

Scotch

Scotch, Irish, English, French unite,
With equal Int'reft, equal Spight;
Together mingled in a Lump,
Do all in One Opinion jump ;
And ev'ry one begins to find
The fame Impreffion on his Mind.

A STRANGE Event! whom Gold incites To Blood and Quarrels, Brafs unites; So Goldsmiths fay, the coarfeft Stuff Will ferve for Sodder well enough: So, by the Kettle's loud Alarm, The Bees are gather'd to a Swarm : So, by the brazen Trumpet's Blufter, Troops of all Tongues and Nations muster: And fo the Harp of Ireland brings Whole Crowds about its brazen Strings.

II.

THERE is a Chain let down from Jove, But faften'd to his Throne above;

So ftrong, that from the lower End,
They fay, all human Things depend :
This Chain, as ancient Poets hold,

When Jove was young, was made of Gold;
Prometheus once this Chain purloin'd,
Diffolv'd, and into Money coin'd;
Then whips me on a Chain of Brass,
(Venus was brib'd to let it pafs.)

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