To a Pleasant New TUNE CALLED A Pot of Good Ale.  

GOOD people, what! will you of all be bereft?  
Will you never Learn Wit, whilst a penny's left?  
weare all like the Dog in the Fable betrayed;  
To let go the Substance, and snap at th' Shade.  
These Specious Pretences,  
And Foreign Expenses.  
●o war for Religion will waste all our Chink:  
It's Snipt, and it's Clipped;  
And it's Spent, and it's Lent,  
Till it's gone; till it's gone, to th' Devil, I think.   

We pay for our Newborn, and pay for our Dead:  
We pay if we are Single, and pay if we Wed,  
Which shows our unmerciful Senate don't fail,  
To begin with the Head, and Tax down to th' Tail.  
We pay through the Nose.  
For Subjecting our Foes;  
Yet for all our Expenses, get nothing but Blows.  
Abroad we are Defeated;  
At Home we are Cheated.  
And th' End on't, the End on 't, The Lord above knows.   

We've parted with all our old Money, to show  
Ho we foolishly hoped, for a plenty of New,  
But might have remembered when't comes to a Push  
A bird in the Hand, is worth two in the Bush.  
We now like poor Wretches,  
Are kept Shut, under Hatches  
At ●ack, and at Manger, like Beast in the Ark  
Since our Burgesses and Knights,  
Makes us pay for our Lights;  
Why should we, Why should we, be kept in the Dark.   
FINIS.