The honest plaine dealing Porter:
Who once was a rich man, but now tis his lot,
To prove that need will make the old wife trot.
To the tune of the Maids A.B.C.
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Y Ou who have beene rich heretofore,
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and by ill fates are now grown poore,
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In that estate doe not despaire,
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but patiently your crosses beare:
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Though you have quite consum'd your wealth,
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if God have lent you limbs and health,
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To labour daily murmur not,
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For need will make the old wife trot.
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I have had wealth as others have,
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so much, I needed not to crave,
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Among good fellowes some I spent,
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the rest to cosening knaves I lent:
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Now all is gone, and nought is left,
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and I am faine to make hard shift,
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Yet am contented with my lot,
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Thus need will make the old wife trot.
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Now all my meanes is gone and spent,
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to fare hard I must be content,
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To get my bread my browes must sweat,
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till I have earnd I must not eate.
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My charge I must take care to keepe,
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which makes me wake when others sleepe,
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I trudge abroad be it cold or hot,
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Thus need will make the old wife trot.
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At first to worke I was asham'd,
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but poverty hath me so tam'd,
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That now I thinke it no disgrace,
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to get my living in any place,
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Tis more commendable to worke,
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then idlely at home to lurke,
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Wishing for bread, and have it not,
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Thus need will make the old wife trot.
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Some idle knaves about this towne
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doe basely loyter up and downe,
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And ere they'le set their hands to worke,
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from place to place they'le live by 'th shirke,
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They'le sit i'th Alehouse all the day,
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and drinke and eate, yet nothing pay.
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I scorne to drinke of anothers pot,
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though need doe make the old wife trot.
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Such men as these I hold in scorne,
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Ile rather rise at foure i'th morne,
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And labour hard til nine at night,
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ere I in shirking take delight:
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What honestly I get I spend,
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and well accept what God doth send:
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No man shall say he paid my shot,
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though need doth make the old wife trot.
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My calling's honest, good and just,
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well worthy to be put in trust,
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I am a Porter my habit showes,
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my trade I doe not care who knowes,
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I am a man that's borne to beare,
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I cary burthens farre and neere,
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By which an honest meanes is got,
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thus need doe make the old wife trot.
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When some who knew me rich before,
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doe shun to meet me now I'me poore,
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I dare to looke them in the face,
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because my calling is not base.
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For of all men we Porters be
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good understanding men you see,
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Then though I labour blame me not,
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for need will make the old wife trot.
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The second part. The same Tune.
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S Uch pleasure in my worke I find,
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that I live more content in mind,
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To earne my living with my hands,
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then when I lived upon my lands.
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For many cares are incident
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to wealthy men when sweet content
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Doth fall unto the meane mans lot,
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though need doth make the old wife trot.
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When I doe meet with any friend,
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I seldome want a penny to spend,
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Which brings me to a good report,
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because I live in honest sort,
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Ide rather earne my living deare,
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then steale or beg for bread or beere,
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For charity is cold God wot,
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when need doth make the old wife trot.
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We Porters are good fellowes still,
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and spend our money with good will,
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When three or foure on's meet together,
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we needs must drinke come wind come wether,
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In friendly sort our pence we joyne,
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or more, if we be stor'd with coine,
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We never wrangle at paying the shot,
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though need doth make the old wife trot.
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When I all day have labour'd hard,
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content at night is my reward.
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When I come home, to quit my paines,
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my wife me kindly entertaines.
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We sup with such as God hath sent,
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though nere so small we are content,
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Come weale, come woe, we grumble not,
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For need will make the old wife trot.
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Thus have I showne you my estate,
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and how I first was crost by fate,
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And how that crosse did prove a blis,
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because my mind contented is,
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My meanes I did consume in wast,
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but there's no helpe for what is past,
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I little dream'd of this my lot,
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but need will make the old wife trot.
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By this I free my selfe of blame,
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my kindred I will never shame,
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Well may they heare that I am poore,
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yet not to beg from doore to doore.
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Let him who hath no house nor land,
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some honest calling take in hand,
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Whereby a living may be got,
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For need will make the old wife trot.
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If thou hast learning, strength, or wit,
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to use it lawfully tis fit,
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To sharke and shift from place to place,
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doth thee and all thy kin disgrace.
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Tis base to beg, tis worse to steale,
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then if thou honestly doe deale,
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Be not ashamed of thy lot,
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For need will make the old wife trot.
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