The Banishment of Poverty by his Royal
Highness, J.D.A.
To the Tune of the Last Good-night.
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POx sa that pultron povertie,
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Wa worth the time that I him saw;
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Since first he laid his fang on me,
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My self from him I dought ne're draw:
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His wink to me has been a Law,
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He hunts me like a penny Dog,
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Of him I stand far greater aw,
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Than Puppil does of Pedagogue.
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The first time that he met with me,
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Was at a Clachan in the West.
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Its name I trow Kilbarchan be,
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Where Habies Drons blew many a blast,
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There we shook hands, cald be his cast,
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An ill dead may that Custron die.
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For there he gripped me well fast,
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Where first I fell in Cautionrie.
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Yet I had hopes to be reliev'd,
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And fred from that soul laidly lown:
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Fernier when whiggs were ill mischiev'd
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And forc'd to fling their weapons down;
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When we chasd them from Glasgow Town
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I with that Swinger thought to graple,
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But when Indemnity came down,
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The laldron pow'd me by the thraple.
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And yet in hopes of some relief,
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A rade I made to Arinjrow,
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Where they did bravely buff my beef,
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And made my body black and blew:
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At Justice Court I them pursue,
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Expecting help by their reproof,
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Indemnity made nothing due,
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The D- a farthing for my loof.
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But wishing that I wode ride east,
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To trote on foot I soon would tire;
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My Page allowed me not a beast,
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I wanted gilt to pay the hire:
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He and I lap o're many a syre,
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He hooked me at Calder-cult,
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But lang or I wan to Slyps-mire,
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The ragged rogue took me a Whilt,
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By Holin-bush and bridge of Bony,
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We bicker down toward Bankier,
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We fear'd no reavers for our money,
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Nor whilly wha's to grip our gear:
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My tatter,d Tutor took no fear,
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Though we did travel in the mirk;
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He thought it fit when we drew near,
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To filsh a forrage at Falkirk.
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No man would open me the door,
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Because my Commerade stood by;
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They dread full ill I was right poor,
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By my forecasten company,
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Then Cunninghame did me espy-
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By how and hair he hall'd me in,
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And swore we should not part so dry:
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Though I were striped to the Skin,
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We baid all night, but lang or day
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My curst companion bad me rise;
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I start up soon and took my way,
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He needed not to bid me twice,
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But what to do we did advise,
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In Lithgow we might not sit down,
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On a Scots Groat we baited thrice,
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And in at night to Edinburgh Town.
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We held the Lang gate to Leith-wind,
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Where poorest purses use to be;
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And in the Caltown lodged syne,
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Fit quarters for sick companie.
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Yet the High-town I fain would see,
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But that my man did me discharge.
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He will'd me Blackburns Ale to prie,
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And muff my beard it was right large.
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The morn I ventur'd up the Wynd,
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And slung'd in at the Nether-bow,
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Thinking that Trooker for to tyne,
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Who does me damnage what he dow,
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His company he does bestow,
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On me, to my great grief and pain;
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Ere I the thrang could wrestle through,
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The Lown was at my heels again.
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I grein'd to gang on the plain stanes,
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To see if Commerads wad me ken,
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We twa gade paceing there our lanes,
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The hungry hour 'twixt twelve and ane,
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When I kend no way how to fend,
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My Guts rumbl'd like a Hurle-barrow,
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I din'd with Saints and Noble men,
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Ev'n sweet St. Giles, and Earl of Murray,
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Tykes Testment take him for his treat,
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I needed not my teeth to pike,
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Though I was in a cruel sweat,
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He set not by, say what I like:
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I call'd him Turk and traiked Tyke,
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And wearied him with many a curse;
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My bones were hard like a stone dyke,
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No Reg. Marie was in my purse.
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Kind Widow Caddel sent for me,
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To dine as she did oft forsooth,
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But ah! alas, that would not be,
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Her house was o're near the Tolbooth.
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Yet God reward her for her love,
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And kindness, which I fed full found,
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Most readie still for my behove,
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Ere this hells hound took her in hand.
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I left my Page and stour'd to Leith,
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To try my credit at the wine,
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But foul a drible fil'd my teeth,
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He gripp'd me at the Coffee Sign,
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I sta down through the Nether Wynd,
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My Lady Semples house was near;
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To enter there was my design,
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Where Poverty durst ne're appear.
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I din'd there, but I bade not lang,
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My Lady fain would shelter me.
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But e're alas I needs must gang,
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And leave that comelie companie:
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Her Lad convey'd me with a key,
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Out through the Garden to the fields,
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Ere I the Links could graithlie see,
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My Governour was at my heels.
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I dought not dance to pipe or harp,
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I had no stock for Cards and Dice,
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But I fuir to Sir William Sharp,
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Who never made his Counsel nice:
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That little man he is right wise,
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And sharp as any brier can be,
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He bravely gave me his advice,
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How I might poyson povertie.
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Quoth he, there grows hard by the Dyel,
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In Hattons Garden bright and sheen,
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A soveraign herb call'd Penny Royal,
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Whilk all the year grows fresh and green,
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Could ye but gather fair and clean,
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Your business would not go backward,
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But let account of it be seen,
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From the Physicians of Exchequer.
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For if that Ticket ye bring with you,
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Come back to me, you need not fear,
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For I some of that herb can give you,
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Whilk I have planted this same year:
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Your Page it will cause disappear,
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Who waits on you against your will;
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To gather it I shall you lear,
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In my own Yard of Stonny hill.
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But when I dread that would not work
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I underthought me of a wyle,
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How I might at my leisure lurk,
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My graceless Guardian to beguile:
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It's but my galloping a mile,
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Through Cannongate with little loss,
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Till I have Sanctuary a while
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Within the Girth of Abbey Closs:
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There I wan in, and blyth was I,
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When to the inner Court I drew,
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My Governour I did defy,
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For joy I clapt my wings and crew.
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There Messengers dare not pursue,
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Nor with their wands mens shoulders steer
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There dwells distressed Lairds enew,
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In peace though they have little gear,
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There twa hours I did not tarrie,
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Till my blest fortune was to see
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A sight sure by the mights of Marie,
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Of that brave Duke of Albanie.
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Where one blink of his Princly eye,
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Put that foul foondling to the flight,
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Fra me he banisht povertie,
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And gart him take his last goodnight.
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