The Chimney-Men's Grief;
OR,
The poor Subjects Joyful Expectation of the Downfall of that Terrible Tax which so long has been their
Yearly Vexation.
To the Tune of, Why are my Eyes, etc.
Licensed according to Order.
|
LEt all Loyal Subjects Rejoice now amain,
|
and pray for King Williams long prosperous Reign;
|
Who does to his people all Favour extend,
|
And will not be wanting our Rights to defend:
|
The Nation he never designs to Oppress,
|
The Taxes most grievous he strives to make less;
|
And that of the Chimneys he'l freely pull down,
|
All over his Kingdom in City and Town.
|
This Tax has continu'd for many long years,
|
And caus'd the poor people whole showers of tears;
|
When truly not able their Coin to produce,
|
Each often receiv'd a most horrid abuse,
|
From cruel Collectors, quite void of all Grace
|
Who like roaring Lyons, would come to each place,
|
And if disappointed, then on them they'd Frown,
|
But this Chimney-money we hope will go down.
|
The Tax of these Chimneys when first it was made,
|
It was on good Tradesmen and Gentry laid.
|
Who had store of Treasure the same to discharge,
|
But in a short time this did further enlarge;
|
For it being Farm'd by a Rich Knavish pack,
|
The poor of this Kingdom went sorely to wrack,
|
In every Village, nay, City and Town,
|
But we are in hopes now this Tax will go down.
|
Poor Plowmen that labours for Sixpence a day,
|
Was likewise abliged this Tax for to pay;
|
And tho' a poor Wife, and young Children small,
|
And none but his Care to maintain them withal:
|
It was but in vain to plead Poverty, when
|
They met with those cruel and hard-hearted men,
|
Who wou'd with much Malice upon the poor frown,
|
But we are in hopes now this Tax will go down.
|
There's many that scarce had a Groat in the world,
|
But was on the wrack of Extreamity hurl'd;
|
Like Plundering Souldiers, they'd enter the Door,
|
And make a Distress on the Goods of the poor,
|
While frighted poor Children distractedly cry'd,
|
This nothing abated their insolent pride;
|
With rugged hursh Language upon them they'd frown
|
Yet this heavy Tax now we hope will go down.
|
Sometimes a poor Labourer works all the week,
|
Then hyes to the Market a Dinner to seek,
|
Whereas he may purchase a joynt of good Meat,
|
And this may no sooner be Roasted and eat,
|
But straightways the Spit may be seiz'd for the Tax,
|
O this was enough the poor Tradesman to vex,
|
To think that Dame Fortune should thus on him frown
|
But we are in hopes no this Tax will go down.
|
But thanks to the King, who is graciously pleas'd,
|
That every Subject in time shou'd be eas'd
|
From what has been grievous to most in this Land,
|
Then let us in Loyal Obedience here stand,
|
To him that will study our flourishing peace;
|
Let Heavenly Blessings be found to encrease
|
To make his days happy with Royal Renown,
|
Who freely desires that Tax to go down.
|
His Generous Spirit is season'd with Love,
|
Which flows from the Heavenly powers above;
|
May Blessings attend him where ever he goes,
|
And Guard him from all his implacable Foes;
|
So here to enjoy a true prosperous Reign,,
|
Then, then we shall never have cause to complain:
|
His Love is as Great as his Royal Renown,
|
For this heavy Tax he will freely take down.
|
|
FINIS.
|
|
|
|