( 3 )
The news I have got, Sir, is not very good,
The dearth of your corn makes my children want food,
My poor wife and babies, the hind he did ſay,
Muſt all be maintain'd on poor eight pence a day.
Why, how many children, good fellow, have you?
You're telling what wages you have for your due:
A wife and five children I have to maintain,
all with my own diligent labour and pain.
Your wife for herſelf ſhe will ſurely provide,
And likewiſe help you with the children beſide:
The oldeſt can ſcarcely put on its own clothes,
Pray what can my wife do among ſuch as thoſe?
And when I have toil'd all day I declare,
To ſeek their proviſions, I cannot tell where:
I'm far from the market, Sir, be not afraid,
Let me have ſome corn, and you'll be well paid.
No quantity leſs than a boll, I can fell,
And that ready money boy, down you muſt tell,
And think you are favour'd in getting ſo near,
Since we give no credit, when corn is ſo dear.
Your conſcience I think Sir, is greatly enlarg’d,
But with ſuch extortion you'll ſcarcely be charg'd:
For many black curſes the poor on you lay,
Which ſurely will light on you ſome other day.
But we are like ſwine boy as I am alive,
The more we are curſed the better we thrive,
We value no bleſſings, but love the poor's curſe,
For bleſſing puts nothing at all in our purſe.
When corn was cheap then I gave to the poor,
And bleſſings got from each beggar in ſtore ;
But when the land taxes and rent was to pay,
What better was I of your bleſſings I pray?
Let me for my corn have abundance of gold,
And as many curſes as my wallet can hold,
For I'll put off your curſes unto a long day,
And ſo eat and drink to drive ſorrow away.
