The Old Man's Wish:  

This Old Man he doth wish for Wealth in vain,  
But he doth not the Treasure gain;  
For if with Wishes he the same could have,  
He would not mind nor think upon the Grave.   
To a pleasant New Playhouse Tune.  
 
 

IF I live to grow Old,  
(for I find I go down)  
Let this be my Fate  
in a Country Town;  
Let me have a warm House,  
with a Stone at the Gate,  
And a cleanly young Girl  
to rub my bald Pate:  
May I govern my Passion  
with an absolute sway,  
And grow wiser and better,  
as my Strength wears away;  
Without Gout or Stone,  
by a gentle Decay.   

In a Country Town.  
by a murmuring Brook,  
The Ocean at distance  
on which I may look:  
With a spacious Plain,  
without Hedge or Style,  
And an easy Pad-nagg  
to ride out a Mile:  
May I govern my Passion  
with an absolute sway,  
To grow wiser and better,  
as my Strength wears away;  
Without Gout or Stone,  
by a gentle Decay.   

With a Pudding on Sunday,  
and stout humming Liquor,  
And Remnants of Latin  
to puzzle the Vicar;  
With a hidden reserve  
of Burgundy Wine,  
To drink the King's Health  
as oft as I dine:  
May I govern my Passion  
with an absolute sway,  
And grow wiser and better,  
as my Strength wears away;  
Without Gout or Slone,  
by a gentle Decay.   

With Plutarch and Horace,  
and one or two more  
Of the best Wits that lived  
in the Ages before;  
With a Dish of Roast Mutton,  
not Venison nor Teal,  
And clean (tho' corpse) Linen  
at every Meal;  
May I govern my Passion, etc.   

And if I should have Guest,  
I must add to my Wish,  
On friday a Mess  
of good buttered Fish;  
For full well I do know,  
and the Truth I reveal,  
I had better do so,  
than come short of a Meal:  
May I govern my Passion, etc.   

With Breeches and jerkin  
of good Country Grace,  
And live without Working,  
now my Strength doth decay:  
With a Hogshead of Sherry,  
for to drink when I please,  
With Friends to be merry,  
and to live at my ease;  
May I govern my Passion, etc.   

Without Molestation  
may I spend my last Days,  
In sweet Recreation,  
and sound forth the Praise  
Of all those that are true  
to the King and his Laws,  
Since it be their due,  
they shall have my Applause:  
May I govern my Passion, etc.   

With a Country Scribe  
for to write my last Will,  
But not of the Tribe  
that in chousing have Skill:  
For my easy Pad-nagg,  
I'll bequeath to Don John,  
For he's an arch Wag,  
and a jolly old Man:  
May I govern my Passion, etc.   

With Courage undaunted  
may I face my last Day;  
And when I am dead,  
may the better sort say,  
In the Morning when sober,  
in the Evening when mellow,  
He's gone, and has left  
not behind him his Fellow:  
For he governed his Passion  
with an absolute sway,  
And grew wiser and better  
as his strength wore away,  
Without Gout or Stone,  
by a gentle Decay.    

Printed by W. O. for B. Deacon, at the Angel in Guilt-spur-street.