The West-Country MISER: OR, AN Unconscionable Farmer's Miserable End:  
Who having Hoarded up his Corn in hopes it would rise to a higher Price, was Disappointed so that he fell into Despair, and Died at last by the fright of an Apparition.  
Tune of, Love's a sweet passion: or, Fond Boy, etc.  
 
 
 
 

Let a●l loving people be pleased to attend,  
To a woeful relation sent up by a friend,  
Of a co●pl● of farmers who happened of late,  
To discourse as the met at the parish church gate:  
Now the one was a miser who hoarded hi● sto●e,  
And he other was loving and good to the poo●.   

The m●ser he seemed to be troubled in mind,  
For his heart was to cruel oppression inclined,  
Though he came from a sermon, yet nevertheless,  
In a passion th●se words he began to express:  
Now the price is abated of all sorts of grain,  
But I'll never sell mine till they raise it again.   

O neighbour! How can you thus murmuring stand,  
When the Lord by a gracious and plentiful hand,  
Has been pleased to replenish our barns again,  
Therefore ●ure we have no● any ●ause to complain:  
I re●oyc●●…n a plenty, for last year I know  
That t●e poor they with hungry bellies did go.   

The miser replied with a fury so hot,  
Friend, a fi● for the poor, faith, I value them not,  
A good ●r●ce I am willing to make of my corn.  
But I ●e●r was so balked since the day I was born;  
About two hundred pound I shall lose now I fear,  
By the wheat which I might have sold off the last ye●r.   

The other said, Neighbour, you have your d●sert,  
You can blame none alive but your covetous heart,  
For you reckon to sell it for twice as much more,  
And for that very reason you keep up your store;  
Since you had such a cruel and covetous mind,  
I declare of a truth you were served in your kind.   

The miser cried, When I lie down in my bed,  
I have nothing but troubles and cares in my head;  
O, this plentiful summer my purpose did cross,  
I am almost distracted to think of my loss:  
But I'll keep it as long as my ba●ns will hold,  
E'er at such a low ma●ket my corn shall be sold.   

O cruel oppressor, the other replied,  
The sweet blessings of God than it seems you will hide,  
Which he sends for to nourish the race of mankind,  
In your barns fo● profit it must be confined;  
Sure the name of a christian you do not deserve,  
Who desires to see your poor brethren starve.   

If God had no greater compassion than you,  
Neighbour, what would this land of poor sufferers do?  
In the tilling our ground we might labour and strive,  
Ay, a●d yet not have bread for to keep us alive;  
O ●ut blessed be God in the heaven's above,  
He has sent us down showers of his infinite love.   

They parted and home the old miser repaired,  
As he entered the yard he was woefully scared,  
There the Devil with si●ver and gold did appear,  
For to buy al● his corn that was left the last year:  
And no sooner the miser had set him a price,  
But this strange apparition was gone in a trice.   

He run in and told them what he had beheld,  
Being frighted they were with astonishment filled;  
All the ni●ht i● his bed he raving did lie,  
L●t ●e sell off my co●n, I'll not keep it not I:  
To the gri●f of his fri●nds thus h● languishing lay,  
And he died about five of the clock the next day.   

Now let not our thoughts after vanities range,  
For this was a sad sudden and sorrowful change,  
On the wealth of the world he had set his whole heart,  
Yet from that he was forced with sorrow to part:  
Now let his fatal end be a warning to all,  
Who in dealing makes not any conscience at all.    

London: Printed for J. Wolrah, in Holbourn.