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.
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LEt all loving people be pleas'd to attend,
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To a woful relation sent up by a friend,
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Of a couple of farmers who happen'd of late,
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To discourse as they met at the parish church-gate:
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Now the one was a miser who hoarded his store,
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And the other was loving and good to the poor.
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The miser he seem'd to be troubld in mind,
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For his heart was to cruel oppression enclin'd,
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Though he came from a sermon, yet nevertheless,
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In a passion these words he began to express:
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Now the price is abated of all sorts of grain,
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But I'll never sell mine till they raise it again.
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O neighbor! How can you thus murmuring stand,
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When the Lord by a gracious and plentiful hand,
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Has been pleas'd to replenish our barns again,
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Therefore sure we have not any cause to complain:
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I rejoyce in a plenty, for last year I know
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That the poor they with hungery bellies did go.
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The miser reply'd with a fury so hot,
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Friend, a fig for the poor, faith, I value them not,
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A good price I am willing to make of my corn,
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But I ne'er was so bauk'd since the day I was born;
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Above two hundred pound I shall loose now I fear,
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By the wheat which I might have sold off the last year.
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The other said, Neighbor, you have your desert,
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You can blame none alive but your covetous heart,
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For you reckon to sell it for twice as much more,
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And for that very reason you keep up your store;
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Since you had such a cruel and covetous heart,
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I declare of a truth you were serv'd in your kind.
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The miser cry'd, When I lye down in my bed,
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I have nothing but trouble and cares in my head;
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O, this plentiful summer my purpose did cross,
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I am almost distracted to think of my loss;
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But I'll keep it as long as my barns will hold,
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E'er at such a low market my corn shall be sold.
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O cruel oppressor, the other reply'd,
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The sweet blessings of God then it seems you will hide,
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Which he sends for to nourish the race of mankind,
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In your barns for profit it must be confin'd;
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Sure the name of a christian you do not deserve,
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Who desires to see your poor brethren starve.
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If God had no greater compassion then you,
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Neighbour, what would this land of poor sufferers do?
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In the tilling our ground we might labour and strive,
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Ay, and yet not have bread for to keep us alive;
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O but blessed be God in the heaven's above,
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He has sent us down showers of his infinite love.
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They parted and home the old miser repair'd,
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As he enter'd the yard he was wofully scar'd,
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There the Devil with silver and gold did appear,
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For to bye al. his corn that was left the last year:
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And no sooner the miser had set him a price,
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But this strange apparition was gone in a trice.
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He run in and told them what he had beheld,
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Being frighted they were with astonishment fill'd;
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All the night in his bed he raving did lye,
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Let me sell off my corn, I'll not keep it not I:
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To the grief of his friends thus he languishing lay,
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And he dy'd about five of the clock the next day.
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Now let not our thoughts after vanities range,
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For this was a sad sudden and sorrowful change,
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On the wealth of the world he had set his whole heart,
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Yet from that he was forced with sorrow to part:
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Now let his fatal end be a warning to all,
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Who in dealing makes not any conscience at all.
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