Page:Five songs (9).pdf/4

They take the king for Britain’s head,
But part of his laws they will not own,
Brotherly love is out of faſhion,
neighbours they cannot agree;
They ſpend their money at the law,
and bring themſelves to poverty.
By racking ſharping and deceiving,
’tis hard to find a man that’s juſt,
Becauſe they ſeldom find the way
to pay the thing they take in truſt,
There’s dice-men, ſhew-men, mountain ſailors
people pretending to be dumb,
Fortune tellers and quack doctors,
by such vagrants we’re undone.
Foreigners we do encourage,
ay, dear neighbour this is truth,
Good Scots and highland whisky
hath no reliſh in our mouth.
Brandy and rum we chuse to drink,
and many coſtly things beſide,
There’s nothing now appears amongſt us,
but perfect poverty and pride.
Now obſerve the pride of women,
how they walk with ſuch an air,
With ribbons, ruffles, rings and fans,
capuchens and foreheads bare.
Our ſervant maids they are ſo proud,
they do reſemble ladies near,
they ſcarce can tell now what to wear.
Paints and patches for their faces,
in the faſhion they muſt be,
The pooreſt wife in all the town,
each morning ſhe muſt drink her tea,