Poor man's looking glass/The Poor Man's Looking Glass

The Poor MAN'S Looking GLASS.

СOme all ye true Britons, and be not afraid,
And lend ſome aſſiſtance our friends for to aid,
To fight the proud French by ſea or by land,
And let not miſconduct appear in our hand.
Sing fall dar rall, &c.
Sing fall dar rall, &c.

Pray let no falſe Judas our courage diſmay,
Who buys up our corn for to ſend it away;
To feed our proud enemies and to maintain,
A cloſe correſpondence with France and proud Spain.

But one in this kingdom whom I ſhall not name,
Who many poor people have reaſon to blame;
For the great exorbitant prices of the corn,
I wiſh that ſuch a juſtice had never been born.

A perjured villain, he ſurely muſt be,
His poſt and his actions, in no ways agree:
He ſwore his allegiance which every one knows,
And yet ſent proviſions to feed our proud foes.

There's many ſuch factors as he to be found,
Who keeps up the markets, the poor to confound:
And hard hearted farmers to give them their turn,
Who lives by extortion and makes the land mourn.

For early next morning, a farmer we find,
Was walking, along where he met with a Hind:
A poor honeſt fellow upon the high way,
Who took off his hat and bid him good day.

What news honeſt fellow, have you got to tell?
How far are you going, and where do you dwell:
Down in a ſmall village the poor man did ſay,
And it is not much further I'm going this way,

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.

You may eat and drink of the fat of the land,
For you have the markets now at your command,
But yet your high prices may ſoon fly away,
And you take a halter and make no delay.

Your conſcience and you, a reck’ning muſt have,
When your burſlen carcaſe is laid in the grave,
Your gold will not clear you, nor juſtice allure,
Not make an atonement for wronging the poor.

You ſhall be rewarded with what you deſerve,
For thus your diſigning, the poor for to ſtarve;
And what do you know, but yourſelf may yet need?
Altho' you debar them from begging their bread.

Now you greedy farmers and traders alſo,
I fear you are working your own overthrow;
The French you uphold, with the beſt of our grain,
Perhaps they may come for their money again.