The Londoners Answer
TO
Down-right Dick of the West.
Shewing, That they cannot live without London, being the place where they Sell and receive money for
their Goods. To the Tune of, The Countrey Farmer.
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I F you to my words now will attend,
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This little dispute we will quickly end,
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We'l give what is due to London-Town ,
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And you shall be sure for to have your own,
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The Citty has many brave things from you,
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'Tis own'd always, for 'tis most true:
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But while you do onely your riches pursue,
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The Citty is little oblieg'd to you.
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The Dairy-Maid comes into London town,
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Full often to buy her a Russet Gown,
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You know by experience that this is true:
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But here you first got the money too,
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And why do you sow either Seed or Grain,
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Or trot thorough the Durt and Rain,
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The reason appears to be ready and plain,
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You sweat and you labour for your own gain.
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Why sits the old Shepherd upon the plain,
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Regardless all day of the Storms and Rain,
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And why does the Plowman mind his plough,
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And why does the Milk-maid milke her Cow,
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The reason is plain as I said before,
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'Tis all for to increase their store,
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That they may grown wealthy and never be poor,
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And keep the lean Woolfe far off their door.
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Y Ou bring us to Town your Curds and Cream,
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But Money maintains the Farmers Team,
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You mind not the Winter nor the cold,
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But fix all your mind upon London Gold:
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'Tis that does still raise your hopes up higher,
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And adds fewel unto your fire,
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'Tis that which indeed, we do all admire,
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For 'tis merry Wealth that we all desire.
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Then London is not oblieg'd to you,
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While onely you do your wealth persue,
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'Tis this merry town that does make you rich,
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Or else you might all go scratch your breech:
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To London you must all your treasure bring,
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Whose fame around the Orb does Ring,
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Each country and shire were a wretched poor thing,
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If 'twere not for London, whose praise we sing.
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We into the Country for our Health,
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But come up to London for to get wealth,
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To reach this rich place all mankind strive,
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For London is always the great BEE-HIVE:
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Here's Wax, and rich Hony , and all things rare,
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And none can with this place compare,
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Such plenty abounds that we all things can spare
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Then where dwell such Beauties, so bright and fair.
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We teach you fine fashions and fine things,
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Without us you can't buy your wedding Rings.
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Sweet Dickee must foot it to this place,
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If he will buy Dolly a fine Bone-lace,
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Without us you cant have a drop of Oyl,
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And if Beef in the Pot does boyl
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You must then go Ramble o're many a stile,
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For Mustard sometimes you must go five mile,
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But we without Wheat can never live,
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And for it, our money we freely give,
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You therefore should ever fair London prize,
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And we too should never the Swain dispise,
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Though we have a Thousand things more then you
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If we give to each one his due,
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You must have of us and we must have of you,
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And every one knows well that this is true.
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