The Prodigals Resolution
OR,
My Father was Born before me.
To a Pleasant Mew Tune.
|
I Am a lusty lively Lad,
|
now come to one and twenty,
|
My Father left me all he had,
|
both Gold and Silver plenty;
|
Now hes in Grave, I will be brave,
|
the Ladies shall adore me,
|
Ile court and kiss, what hurts in this,
|
My Dad did so before me.
|
My Father was a thirsty Sir,
|
till Soul and body sundred,
|
Some say he was a Usurer,
|
for thirty in the hundred;
|
He scrapt and scratcht, She pincht and patchd
|
that in her belly bore me;
|
But ile let flye, a good cause why,
|
My Father was born before me.
|
My Daddy had his Duty done,
|
in getting so much treasure,
|
Ile be as dutiful a Son,
|
for spending it in pleasure:
|
Five pounds a quart, shall chear my heart,
|
such Necture will restore me,
|
When Ladies call, Ile have at all,
|
My Father was born before me.
|
My Grandam livd at Washington,
|
my Grandsir delvd in Ditches,
|
The Son of Old John Thrashington,
|
whose lanthorn leathern Breeches:
|
Cryd, whither go ye, whither go ye,
|
though men do now adore me,
|
They ner did see my Pedigree,
|
Nor who was born before me.
|
MY grandsir strivd, & wivd, & thrivd,
|
till he did Riches gather,
|
And when he had much wealth atchievd,
|
O then he got my Father:
|
Of happy memmory cry I,
|
that ere his Mother bore him,
|
I had not been worth one penny,
|
Had I been born before him.
|
To Free-school, Cambridge, and Grays-Inn,
|
my Grey-coat Grandsir put him,
|
Till to forget (he did begin)
|
the Leathern Breech that got him:
|
One dealt in Straw, tother in Law,
|
the one did Ditch and Delve it,
|
My Father store of Sattin wore,
|
My Grandsir Beggers Velvet.
|
So get I wealth, what care I if
|
my Grandsir were a Sawyer,
|
My Father provd to be a chief
|
subtle and Learned Lawyer,
|
By Cooks Reports, and tricks in Court,
|
he did with Treasure store me,
|
That I may say, Heavens bless the day,
|
My Father was born before me.
|
Some say, of late, a Merchant that
|
had gotten store of Riches,
|
Ins Drininkn-room hung up his Hat,
|
his staff, and Leathern Breeches;
|
His stockings garterd up with straws,
|
ere Providence did store him,
|
His Son was Sheriff of London, cause
|
His Father was born before him.
|
So many blades that Rant in silk,
|
and put on Scarlet cloathing,
|
At first did spring from Butter-milk,
|
their Ancestors worth nothing:
|
Old Adam, and our Grandam Eve,
|
by digging and spinning,
|
Did to all Kings and Princes give
|
Their Radical beginning.
|
My Father to get me estate,
|
though selfish yet was slavish,
|
Ile spend it at another rate,
|
and be as lewdly lavish:
|
From Mad-men, Fools, and knaves he did
|
litigiously receive it,
|
If so he did, Justice forbid,
|
But I to such should leave it.
|
At Play-houses, and Tennis-Court,
|
Ile prove a noble Fellow,
|
Ile Court my Dories to the sport,
|
of O! brave Punchinello:
|
Ile Dice and Drab, and Drink and Stab,
|
no Hector shall out-roar me,
|
If Teachers tell we tales of Hell,
|
My Father is gone before me.
|
Our aged Counsellors would have
|
us live by Rule and Reason,
|
Cause they are marching to the Grave,
|
and pleasures out of season:
|
Ile learn to Dance the Mode of France,
|
that Ladies may adore me,
|
My thrifty Dad no pleasure had,
|
Though he was born before me.
|
Ile to the Court where Venus sport,
|
doth Revel it in plenty,
|
Ile deal with all, both great and small,
|
from twelve to five and twenty:
|
In Play-houses ile spend my days,
|
for theyr hung round with Plackets,
|
Ladies make room, behold I come,
|
Have at your KNOCKING Jackest.
|
|
|
|
|
|