A New Copy of VERSES about INTERLOPERS. 
Since here has been a plaguy Bustle,  
Made by that Quack-Embalmer Russel,  
By Taylors, Cheesemongers, and joiners,  
( Who shame, and are base Underminers:)  
It is thought fit by some of th' City,  
To show their Rogu'ry in this Ditty.   
To the Tune of Packington's-Pond.  

MY Friends and good People all pray you draw near,  
from City, from Court, from Country and Town,  
Here is a sad Story as e'er you did hear,  
most fit in the Annals of Rogues to set down,  
Of a damned Monopolly,  
encouraged by Folly.  
In bu●ying you● Friends,( Oh, unrighteous, unholy!)  
Whose Bodies are stripped e're they're put in the Grave,  
To Cloath and Adorn a base ignorant Knave.   

Embalmers those Cooks, who for Worms dress a Feast,  
pretend to perform ●t for very small Charge,  
And 'tis true, for their Charges ind●ed are the least,  
'tis your Money that makes their streight Fortunes so large  
even the Vermin they cheat,  
And like cannibals eat  
On that of which they your dead Friends do defeat,  
Whose Bodies are stripped e'er they're put in the Grave,  
To Cloath and Adorn a base ignorant Knave.   

First, I'll tell you a Truth,( and you'l say 'tis a hard one)  
which was done on the Body of w— Squire,  
At Sir Petter Lilly's▪ hard by Covent-Garden,  
and if ●t ben't Truth, why then Fact is a liar;  
In a Room with door fast  
Comes Russel in hast,  
And whips off the Shrowd, which the Corps should have graced,  
And instead of Perfumes▪ and rich Spices he strewed  
The Coffin with Ashes made only of Wood.   

But mark the just Fate that this Emprie attends,  
when the' Squire he up in his Coffin has nailed,  
Some Gentlemen come, the Deceased's good Friends,  
whose Kindness the sacrilege plainly revealed,  
They all do contend,  
To see their dear Friend,  
And his Soul with th●ir Kisses to Heaven Commend,  
They saw him then Naked, and could as he lay.  
And as he came hither, so going away.   

The good Lady Treby, or Hudson I 'm sure,  
with Sir thomas Orby, that Knight of Renown,  
The same cursed Usage was fain to endure,  
each robbed of their Sheet, the last Wedding-Gown.  
In Pennance may R—  
Those very Sheets wear,  
On whom in full Church may all good People stare,  
And for his just Epitaph let it be said,  
Here lies the wolf RUSSEL who lived by the Dead.   

But w●en-ever he dyes he will need no great Pomp,  
no Black, like his Actions, to Blazon his Cause;  
To the Grave let him hurry even with his bare Rump,  
for the Devil is greedy, and seldom wants sauce.  
What Monster is here?  
( cries old Lucifer,  
A joiner, a milliner, Glover,( O dear)  
A Wax-Chandler too, and shame Painter of Arms,  
All dish'd up in one! H'has abundance of Charms.   

Yet( hold!) I another Blow must have at Parting,  
when Broad-Cloath his Pulpit should decently grace,  
There was nothing else found by learned Dr. Martin,  
but some old rusty Tatters of woren-out bays:  
But the Doctor too wise,  
Saw through the Disguise,  
And ●b●ut this dark Matter did R— Catechize;  
O Russel, thou Knave,( said he) learn better manners,  
Or else I'll expose thee in thy own nasty Banners.   

Did not honest T●m. Penson your Roguries expose,  
and were they not Truths as apparent as Light,  
At Dog-Tavern he'd never have been mauled with such Blows,  
the down right E●●ects of your Guilt and your spite.  
But for your Transgression  
You must answer at Session.  
And take heed that at Tyburn you make not Confession,  
For when once you have gotten of Sin such a habit,  
You'l forsake it I fear the Devil a bit.   

But now I am tired, and my Friends too I think,  
this filthy soul Matter 'tis time to give over,  
For the more we do stir him, the more he will stink,  
but be sure you never pay for your Goods ten times over.  
This Caution is good,  
If well understood:  
Then beware all in time, of this Viperous Brood;  
The worst of all Vermin both hero and below,  
Who in Mischiefs unnatural those Creatures out-do.   
FINIS.