The Exciseman (Stirling)/The Exciseman

by Anonymous

For works with similar titles, see The Exciseman.

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THE EXCISEMAN.

To a village that skirted the sea,
An Exciseman one midsummer came;
But prudence between you and me,
Forbids me to mention his name.
Soon Michael he chanc'd to espy,
A cask on his napper he bore,
With six gallons of brandy, Or nigh;
And where is the head can bear more?

Says the Exciseman, Let's see your permit.
Says Mike, T'ant convenient to shew it.
T'other cried, Sir, I'm not to be bit,
You've smuggl'd that stuff, and you know it:
Your hogs to a fine market you've brought;
For seeing you've paid no excise,
As customs have settl'd you ought,
I seizes your tub as my prize.

Now don't be so hard, said poor Mike:
Th’ Exciseman was deaf to complain.
Why then, take it, said Mike, if you like,
For I've borne it till ready to faint.
Four miles in hot sunshine they trudg'd,
Till on them they'd scarce a dry rag:
Th' Exciseman his labour ne'er grudg'd,
But cheerfully carried the cag.

To the custom-house in the next town,
'Twas yet some three furlongs or more,
When says Michael, Pray set your load down,
For this here, sir, is my cottage door.
T'other answer'd, I thank you friend, no;
My burden, just yet, I shan't quit.
Then, says Michael, before you do o,
I'll get you to read my permit.

Your permit! Why not show it before?
Because it came into my nob,
By your watching so long on the shore,
That your worship was wanting a job;
Now, I'd need of a porter, d'ye see,
For the load made my bones almost crack;
And so, sir, I thank you for me,
And wish you a pleasant walk back.

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