A New Song On Wood's Halfpence

Ye people of Ireland, both country and city,     Come listen with patience, and hear out my ditty:     At this time I'll choose to be wiser than witty.                  Which nobody can deny.     The halfpence are coming, the nation's undoing,     There's an end of your ploughing, and baking, and brewing;     In short, you must all go to wreck and to ruin.                  Which, & c.     Both high men and low men, and thick men and tall men,     And rich men and poor men, and free men and thrall men,     Will suffer; and this man, and that man, and all men.                  Which, & c.     The soldier is ruin'd, poor man! by his pay;     His fivepence will prove but a farthing a-day,     For meat, or for drink; or he must run away.                  Which, & c.     When he pulls out his twopence, the tapster says not,     That ten times as much he must pay for his shot;     And thus the poor soldier must soon go to pot.                  Which, & c.     If he goes to the baker, the baker will huff,     And twentypence have for a twopenny loaf,     Then dog, rogue, and rascal, and so kick and cuff.                  Which, & c.     Again, to the market whenever he goes,     The butcher and soldier must be mortal foes,     One cuts off an ear, and the other a nose.                  Which, & c.     The butcher is stout, and he values no swagger;     A cleaver's a match any time for a dagger,     And a blue sleeve may give such a cuff as may stagger.                  Which, & c.     The beggars themselves will be broke in a trice,     When thus their poor farthings are sunk in their price;     When nothing is left they must live on their lice.                  Which, & c.     The squire who has got him twelve thousand a-year,     O Lord! what a mountain his rents would appear!     Should he take them, he would not have house-room, I fear.                  Which, & c.     Though at present he lives in a very large house,     There would then not be room in it left for a mouse;     But the squire is too wise, he will not take a souse.                  Which, & c.     The farmer who comes with his rent in this cash,     For taking these counters and being so rash,     Will be kick'd out of doors, both himself and his trash.                  Which, & c.     For, in all the leases that ever we hold,     We must pay our rent in good silver and gold,     And not in brass tokens of such a base mould.                  Which, & c.     The wisest of lawyers all swear, they will warrant     No money but silver and gold can be current;     And, since they will swear it, we all may be sure on't.                  Which, & c.     And I think, after all, it would be very strange,     To give current money for base in exchange,     Like a fine lady swapping her moles for the mange.                  Which, & c.     But read the king's patent, and there you will find,     That no man need take them, but who has a mind,     For which we must say that his Majesty's kind.                  Which, & c.     Now God bless the Drapier who open'd our eyes!     I'm sure, by his book, that the writer is wise:     He shows us the cheat, from the end to the rise.                  Which, & c.     Nay, farther, he shows it a very hard case,     That this fellow Wood, of a very bad race,     Should of all the fine gentry of Ireland take place.                  Which, & c.     That he and his halfpence should come to weigh down     Our subjects so loyal and true to the crown:     But I hope, after all, that they will be his own.                  Which, & c.     This book, I do tell you, is writ for your goods,     And a very good book 'tis against Mr. Wood's,     If you stand true together, he's left in the suds.                  Which, & c.     Ye shopmen, and tradesmen, and farmers, go read it,     For I think in my soul at this time that you need it;     Or, egad, if you don't, there's an end of your credit.                  Which nobody can deny.