THE
Broken VINTNER of London:
With a Brief Account of his Flight into the Country to Chouse
His Creditors; As also, what happened Between him and Roger the Plow-Man at an Inn, af-
ter his First Days Journey.
Tune of, Let Caeser live long. Licensed according to Order.
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A Vintner he from fair London would Ride,
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Down to Gloster City, in order to hide
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His head from the Merchant, to whom he did owe,
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Much Money for Claret, Canary also.
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And being unwilling the Merchant to pay,
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He Packt up his Awls Sir, and soon rid away.
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This Vintner was of the Jacobite Strain,
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And did not approve of a Protestant Reign,
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Because of the late Prohibition of Wine,
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Had caused his Trading of late to decline,
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Therefore he no longer his Tavern would hold,
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But went off with two Hundred Guinnies in Gold.
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He mounted a sumptuous Bay-Gelding, we hear,
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And did in most Gallant apparel appear,
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His Sword, Wig, and Bever so Rich and compleat,
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That he was as great as a Lord in conceit,
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My Landlord, with Merchant, I leave both behind
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And pay them I will when the Devil is blind,
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He amble'd and gallop'd, two up and two down,
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At length when he came into a market Town,
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He took up his Inn and for Liquor did call,
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As likewise a Supper of Dainties withal:
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And as he was sitting he labour'd to force,
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From Roger the Plow-Man, some pleasant discourse.
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What news have you here in these parts, my good friend?
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Doth not great Taxes your Landlords offend?
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The which was not heard of in Jemmy's late Reign,
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Quoth Roger, there wont be I'm certain again,
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When once we have conquer'd proud huffing Monsieur,
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And therefore they pay with a merry good Chear.
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The Taverner told him that Lewis was strong,
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And would send a Fleet, and an Army ere long,
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The which would this Kingdom with Vigour invade
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Till then we must never expect a good Trade,
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With that lusty Roger immediately cry'd,
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Ye Treacherous Rascal I'll Liquor your Hide.
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The Londoner then in a Passion did Rave,
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And cry'd ye poor Bumpkin and pittiful Slave,
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For what you have spoken, this minute you Dye,
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But Roger immediately made this Reply,
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I fear not your Rapier nor Passion to boot,
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With this very Club I'll your Noddle Salute.
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This Gallant was going his Rapier to draw,
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I faith Sir, Quoth Roger, I am for Club-Law,
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With that he gave him such a Crack on the Crown,
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Which made him almost like an Oxe tumble down,
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And crying for mercy and Pitty a-main,
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Quoth Roger, you'll wish for the French here again.
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I never will talk at that rate any more,
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If this heavy Thrashing you'll please to give o're,
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I'll pray for King William, Queen Mary also,
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And count the proud French a most Insolent Foe,
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And curse the whole Gang of the Jacobite Crew,
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If I may this minute find mercy from you.
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Quoth Roger, arise and stand up like a man,
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And here's a good Health to the King, a full Cann,
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And here is another I drink to the Queen,
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'Tis William and Mary, good Fellow, I mean,
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And here I will make you to pledge their good Health,
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Wishing them all Glory, true Honour and wealth.
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Nay this is not all, for before you do go,
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You now shall drink to the Confusion also,
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Of all the French Army, and likewise their Fleet,
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Or else you the end of my Cudgel shall eat,
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The Jacobite then took a Bumper in hand,
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And straight was obedient to Roger's Comand,
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Good Fellow Quoth Roger, now this is well done,
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Take care that hereafter your Clack do not run,
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In prating too much of the Favour of France,
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Least you for the same on a Gibbit should Dance,
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In kindness to you I will drink tother Cann,
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And say that you met with a right Honest Man.
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