A True CHARACTER OF Sundry Trades and Callings: OR, A New ditty of Innocent Mirth.
This Song is New, and perfect True,
there's none can this deny;
For I am known, Friend, to be one
that scorns to tell a Lye.
To the Tune of,
Old
Simon the KING.
This may be Printed,
R. P.
Now Gentlemen sit you all merry,
I'll sing you a Song of
a Want,
Til make you as merry as may be,
though Monies begin to grow scant:
A Woman without e're a Tongue,
she never can scold very fond;
'Tis just such another great Want,
when the Fidler wants his Crowd:
Good People I tell unto you,
these Lines they are absolute new,
For I hate and dispise the telling of Lies,
this Ditty is merry and true.
A Ship that's without e're a Sail,
may be driven the Lord knows whither;
'Tis just such another sad Want,
as the Shoe-maker wants his Leather:
A Man that has got but one Legg,
will make but a pittiful Runner,
And he that has no Eyes in his Head,
will make but a sorowful Gunner:
Good People I tell unto you,
these Lines they are absolute new,
For I hate and dispise the telling of Lies,
this Ditty is merry and true.
A Doctor without any Stomach,
will make but a pittyful Dinner,
And he that has got no Victuals to eat,
will quickly look thinner and thinner:
A Bell without tever a Clapper,
will make but sorrowful Sound,
And he that has no Land of his own,
may work on another Man's Ground:
Good People I tell unto you,
these lines they are absolute new,
For I hate and despise the telling of Lies,
this Ditty is merry and true.
A Black-smith without his Bellows,
he need not to rise very soon,
And he that has no Cloaths to put on,
may lye in his Bed till noon:
An Inn-keeper without any Custom,
will never get store of Wealth,
And if he has ne'r a Sign to hang up,
he may e'ne go hang up himself:
Good people, &c.
A Miller without any Stones,
he is but a sorrowful Soul,
And if that he has no Corn to grind,
he need not stand taking of Toll:
The Taylor we know he is loath
to take any Cabbidge at all,
If he has no Silk, Stuff or Cloath,
to do that good Office withal.
Good People, &c.
A Woman without e're a Fault,
she like a bright Star will appear;
But a Brewer without any Mault,
will make but pittiful Beer:
A Man that has got but one Shirt,
when e're it is washt for his hide,
I hope it can't be no great hurt,
to lye in his Bed till 'tis dry'd,
Good People, &c.
A Mountebank without his Fools,
and a Skip-kennel turn'd out of Place,
A Tinker without any Tools,
they are all in a sorrowful case:
You know that a Dish of good Meat,
it is the true Stay of Man's Life,
But he that has nothing to eat,
he need not to draw out his Knife.
Good People, &c.
A Pedler without e're a Stock,
it makes him look pittiful blew;
A Shepherd without e'er a Flock;
has little or nothing to do:
A Farmer without any Corn,
he neither can give, sell or lend;
A Huntsman without e'er a Horn,
his Wife she must stand his good Friend,
Good People, &c.
A Plow-man that has ne'er a Plow,
I think may live at his ease;
A Dairy without e're a Cow,
will make but had Butter and Cheeseâ–ª
A Man that is pittiful poor,
has little or nothing to loose;
And he that has never a Foot,
it saves him the buying of Shooes.
Good People, &c.
A Warren without e'er a Coney,
is barren, and so much the worse;
And he that is qute without Money,
can have no great need of a Purse.
I hope there is none is this place,
that now is dispaleas'd with his Song,
Come buy up my Ballads apace,
and i'll pack up my awls and be gone.
Good People I tell unto you,
these Lines they are absolute new,
For I hate and dispise the telling of Lies,
this Ditty is merry and true.
Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in Pye-Corner.