The West-Country MISER:
OR, AN
Unconscionable Farmer's Miserable End:
Who having Hoarded up his Corn in hopes it would rise to a higher Price, was Disappointed so that he fell into Despair, and
Died at last by the fright of an Apparition. Tune of, Love's a sweet passion: or, Fond Boy, etc.
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LEt all loving people be pleas'd to atte[n]d,
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To a woful relation sent up by a friend,
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Of a co[u]pl[e] of farmers who happen'd of late,
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To discourse as the[y] met at the parish church gate:
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Now the one was a miser who hoarded hi[s] sto[r]e,
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And [t]he other was loving and good to the poor.
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The miser he seem'd to be troubl'd in mind,
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For his heart was to cruel oppression enc[l]i[n]'d,
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Though he came from a sermon, yet nevertheless,
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In a passion th[e]se words he began to express:
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Now the price is abated of all sorts of grain,
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But I'll never sell mine till they raise it again.
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O neighbour! How can you thus murmu[r]ing stand,
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When the Lord by a gracious and plentiful hand,
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Has been pleas'd to replenish our barns again,
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Therefore sure we we have not any [c]ause to complain:
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I re[j]oyce in a p[l]enty, for last yea[r] I know
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That t[h]e poor they with hungery beliies did go.
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The miser reply'd with a fury so hot,
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Friend, a fix for the poor, faith, I value them not,
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A good pr[i]ce I am willing to make of my corn,
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But I ne'er was so bauk'd since the day I was born;
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Above two-hund[r]ed pound I shall loose now I fear,
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By the wheat which I might have sold off the last year.
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The other said, Neighbour, you have your d[e]sert,
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You can blame none alive but your covetuous heart,
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For you reckon to sell it for twice as much more,
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And for that very reason you keep up your store;
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Since you had such a cruel and covetous mind,
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I declare of a truth you were serv'd in your kind.
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The miser cry'd, When I lye down in my bed,
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I have nothing but troubles and cares in my head;
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O, this plenti[f]ul summer my purpose did cross,
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I am almost distracted to think of my loss;
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But I'll keep it as long as my ba[r]ns w[i]ll hold,
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E'er at such a low ma[r]ket my corn shall be sold.
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O cruel oppressor, the other reply'd,
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The sw[e]et blessings of God then it seems you will hide,
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Which he sends for to nourish the race of mankind,
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In your barns fo[r] profit it must be confin'd;
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Sure the name of a ch[r]istian you do not deserve,
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Who desires to see your poor brethren starve.
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If God had no greater compassion then you,
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N[e]ighbour, what would this land of poor sufferers do?
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In the tilling our ground we might labour and strive,
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Ay, and yet not have bread for to keep us alive;
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O but blessed be God in the heaven's above,
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He has sent us down showers of his infinite love.
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They parted and home the old miser repair'd,
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As he enter'd the yard he was wofully scar'd,
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There the Devil with silver and gold d[i]d appear,
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For to bye al[l] his corn that was left the last year:
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And no sooner the miser had set him a price,
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But this strange apparition was gone in a trice.
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He run in and told them what he had beheld,
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Being frighted they were with astonishment fill'd;
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All the ni[g]ht in his bed he raving did lye,
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Let [m]e sell of my co[r]n, I'll no[t] keep it not I:
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To the grief of his friends thus he languishing lay,
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And he dy'd about five of the clock the next day.
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Now let not our thoughts after vanities range,
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For this was a sad sudden and sorrowful change,
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On the wealth of the world he had set his whole heart,
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Yet from that he was fo[r]ced with sorrow to part:
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Now let his fatal end be a warning [to] all,
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Who in dealing makes not any conscience at all.
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