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EBBA 34441

Houghton Library - Bute
Ballad XSLT Template
THE
Wager-Mongers:
OR A
LAMPOON
On those who laid Wagers on the Taking of
LYMERICK.

HANG out a Flag: for Pence a piece,
I'll shew you Jasons Golden Fleece;
The Isle of Colchos upside-down,
By Wager-Mongers of the Town.

To Lymerick we our Letters sent,
To know the News was our intent;
But our Returns were Lyes and Stories,
Of Loyal Whigs and Rebel Tories.
Some Swore that Lymerick-Isle was taken;
Without Medaeas help forsaken:
But when it was brought to a Tryal,
The Tories stood to their Denial.
No, by her Shoul, her is not right,
As shee's a Loyal Shacobite;
Tee Wager's ours, tee Letters ly'd,
As her is on King Sheames[']s side.
And thus the Wager-Mongers sit,
Who had more Money than sound Wit,
Depriv'd of all their Seven Senses,
Cursing the past and present Tenses.
Some's left the Town, and gone to Holland,
And Some is on their Voy'ge to Poland:
And some to Ireland do repair;
And some are gone the Devil knows where.
He that at Mons did gain the day,
At Lymerick Siege must run away:
And F------, who did Hector W------
Is now an Object fit to F------ on.
Now tell me what the deepest Plotter,
The English, Welsh, or the Bog-trotter,
Who gain'd, gets by the empty Hamper,
When all the Higlers thus do Scamper.
But Man of Lots, and of Despair,
That thought thy Revenues to rear,

From others Ruins; be content,
What's past, there's no Man can prevent.
Take not, Dear Joy, for earthly Pelf,
A Halter now to Hang yourself.

Then Courage Boys, a Turd for Gold,
You still may Mump when you are Old:
A Man of Valour's ne'er the worse,
To play a Saddle against a Horse.
For what you lost is not worth fretting,
It was of your Grand-Father's getting.
I Six-pence laid against a Shilling,
Tho', at the time, I was unwilling:
I lost my Money, but we drank it,
And for the off-come Jove be thanked.
Tho' of my Loss there's no Recovery,
I wish you all as fair Delivery;
For I'm one of your Brother Owls,
Free of the Company of Fools.

An Animal, made up of Guts,
Whose Brains are gelded of their Wits;
Who's Foolish both and Wise by chance,
Whose Apprehension's in a Trance,
Depriv'd of Fear, he hazards all,
Without respect to Stand or Fall.
Who lost these Wagers are but Owls,
And Fortune proves the Gainers Fools.
But he that lost and he that wan,
Is neither Wise nor Sober Man:
For he that wan he might have lost,
And whereupon had he to boast?
Both may be fit for many things,
But none for Counsellors of Kings.
He who for Riches hastens, shall,
In great Temptations, daily fall.


LONDON, Printed in the Year, 1691.

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