Conscience by Scruples,
AND
Money by Ounces;
OR,
New Fashioned SCALES for Old Fashioned MONEY.
To the Tune of, The Scotch Hay-makers. Licensed according to Order.
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THere is a cursed Project, grown common in the town,
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As plaguy an invention as ever yet was known:
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By the Jacobitish Crew and the Devil else knows who,
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That try their tricks, the Land to vex, and Nation to undo,
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Oh ye sneaking Rebels, ye Rebels in grain;
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Now one Plot has miscarry'd, you strive to Plot again,
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Such a Jacobitish Crew, sure England never knew,
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Oh Rebels, Rebels, Cursed Rebels, what d'ye mean to do?
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Forsooth our antient Money, so spatious large and broad,
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Which Misers horded up Sir, and worshipt as a God,
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Which wou'd make a man to skip, and like any Fidler leap
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A while ago esteemed so, it scarce abroad wou'd creep,
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But the time now being come sir, it pears in light,
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And we are grown so prodigal to take it by its weight,
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This Jacobitish Crew, what will the whoresbirds do,
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Oh Money Money, duce is in ye, don't you mean to go,
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I offer,d once a shilling to one of Taffys tribe,
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A woundy Money weighter: a Jacobite beside,
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But he cry'd out, Splutera-nails; hur will fetch her weights and scales
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Hur will not do, hur will not go, hur will not take her else,
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No, by hur Saint David her is not weight,
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Nor will her take hur shilling, if her lack a little bit,
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Do not take hur for a Vool, by saint Taffys three leg'd stool
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Her too light money wants a penny of her weight in full.
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I left the Roguish Taffy to hunt the town about,
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And at length by chance it happen'd, I found a Quaker out
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Says I, Prithee honest Friend, prithee wilt thou be so kind,
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As to take this shilling, this large shilling, wilt thou honest friend
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Streight sir he weigh'd it, and swore by all his Light,
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Friend thou beest a naughty Fellow, thy money is not weight
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thou oughtest to be beat, because thou goest to cheat,
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For thy too light money wants a penny of its toping weight
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Then I began to maunder, at this confounded work,
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I storm'd like a tarpaulion, and swore like any Turk,
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What the Dickens will ye do! Hah, what wont my money go
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Thou quaking Devil pray be civil: or ile weigh thee too,
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why does the spirit move thee, pray wherefore dost thou stump
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the devil has no weights nor scales, he'l take thee by the lump
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For thy Conscience is so small, thou hast got just none at all,
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O thou'rt inhumane to weigh mammon in a brazen scale.
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But since this sad Confusion of weighing silver Coyn,
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By Jacobites and Brethren is scattered tho' the tow,
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Let us all with one Consent future Evils to prevent
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Take such money still as e'nt forbid by Act of Parliment,
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And that we may show all the Rebels a trick,
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If they don't mend their manners we will send 'em told Nick
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Long may our Nation thrive, and long may our Cer Live,
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But Confound those Rebels, sneaking Rebels, that Sn grieve
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