THE
Pretended Country Squire,
WITH
An Account of his Last WILL and TESTAMENT:
Together with a whole Dicar of Legacies bequeathed to his New-found Friends; who at length,
to their unspeakable Sorrow, are left in the Lurch.
To the Tune of, Merry and Glad.
Licensed according to Order.
|
1.
|
COme listen, while I here unfold
|
as strange a Prank as e're was known,
|
Of one being Fifty-five years Old,
|
who near Temple-Bar wander'd all alone.
|
2.
|
The Grave appearance of his Face,
|
and Cloath'd in a dejected Weed,
|
Straight caused a Baker near that place,
|
to ask him of what he stood in need.
|
3.
|
I lack a Lodging Sir, he cry'd,
|
as being but a Stranger here:
|
The Baker immediately reply'd,
|
thou art welcom to me, kind Friend, ne'r fear.
|
4.
|
This kindness he could not deny,
|
he never stood disputing long,
|
'Twas good to embrace a Friend, for why,
|
his Pockets was but two Shillings strong.
|
5.
|
Now while he was residing there,
|
in hopes to live at a Splendid rate,
|
He did to the Baker then declare,
|
that he was a Man of a vast Estate.
|
6.
|
Quoth he, I stand engag'd this day,
|
for full five hundred pounds, or more,
|
The which I have sworn I'll never pay,
|
although I have thousands lies by in store.
|
7.
|
'Tis for this cause I do abscond,
|
and come to London in this sort:
|
The Baker of such a Guest grew fond,
|
believing his feign'd and false Report.
|
8.
|
At length this Spark fell Sick and weak,
|
and they no Costs or Charges spare,
|
For learned Physicians with speed they seek,
|
the better to shew their indulgent Care.
|
9.
|
At their own Cost, they purchas'd free,
|
what ever Art or Skill could name,
|
Supposing their languishing Guest to be
|
a Country Squire of worth and Fame.
|
10.
|
The Baker in Sobs did sigh full sore,
|
grieving for him with melting eyes,
|
And being Collector of the Poor,
|
he brought a kind Brother to weep likewise
|
11.
|
With Sobs they did his Chamber fill,
|
nothing but bitter sighs he hears,
|
At which he resolv'd to make his Will,
|
to gratifie them for all their Tears.
|
12.
|
He thus begins with Christian care,
|
and gives them all to understand,
|
A Cousen he means to make his Heir
|
now of his head Manour, House and Land.
|
13.
|
The honest Baker next he Will'd,
|
to have a branch of his Estate,
|
In token of Love which he beheld,
|
in Christian-like friendship from him of late.
|
14.
|
The Bakers Wife, Son, Daughter dear,
|
he many hundred pounds did leave,
|
A Generous Soul he did appear,
|
each reckond they had not much cause to grieve
|
15.
|
He left them Horses, House and Land,
|
his tender love did so abound,
|
So much as the Nurse, we understand,
|
he left the sum of a hundred pound.
|
16.
|
The Master would not let his Boy
|
come near the Squire while Sick he lay,
|
Lest he should a Legacy then enjoy,
|
to set up a Bake-house another day.
|
17.
|
His Gifts, we see, were not a few,
|
no Man was e're more kind than he;
|
Nay, he left them Rings and Mourning too,
|
so Liberal was he in each degree.
|
18.
|
For a Rich Coffin straight they go,
|
his Splendid Glory they'll not blast;
|
Twelve pounds on the same they did bestow,
|
but here comes the Devil of all at last.
|
19.
|
This Sham-pretended Squires Love,
|
was found e're he was laid in Grave.
|
Since he an Impostor thus did prove,
|
now never a Penny they'r like to have.
|
20.
|
His new Friends in a Rage did say,
|
they never knew so vile a Cheat;
|
Therefore his Rich Coffin they took away,
|
and hardly afford him a WInding-Sheet.
|
|
|
|
|
|