The Miller of ESSEX, A New SONG,  
To the Tune of, The Miller of Mansfield.  

HOW happy a State did the Miller possess,  
Till he wished to be greater, which makes him ●ill less:  
On his Interest he vainly depends for Support,  
And he longs to be servily cringing at Court.  
And he longs to be, &c.   

What though he all Dusty and Whiten'd did go,  
He would now be a Senator, Statesman, and Beau;  
But the Dress of a Miller's more suitable far  
Than aukwardly strutting in Garter and Star.  
Than aukwardly, &c.   

Though his Hands once so daubed were not fit to be seen,  
He now on his Betters would make them quiter clean:  
A Palm more polite he is anxious to feel;  
Gold in handling will stick to the Fingers like Meal.  
Gold in handling, &c.   

What, if when a Vote at Election he wants,  
He cribs without Scruple from other Men's haunts;  
In this of right nob●e Example he brags,  
As he always made Interest from other Men's Bags.  
As he always, &c.   

But as by his Labour he's helped by the Great,  
He now would be mimicking Fools of the State,  
Whose Aim is alone their Coffers to fill,  
And all his concerns to bring Grist to his Mill.  
And all his, &c.   

Then eat when you're hungry, and drink when you're d●y,  
And down when you're weary, contented pray lie;  
In the Morn rise up early to work and to sing;  
If so happy a Miller, why would you be King?  
If so happy, &c.   
FINIS.