Money makes a Man:
OR, The Good-Fellows Folly.
Here in this Song Good-Fellow thou mayst find,
How Money makes a Man, if thou'rt not blind?
Therefore return e're that it be too late,
And don't on Strumpets spend thy whole estate,
For when all is gone, no better thou wilt be:
But Laught to scorn in all thy poverty.
To a pleasant new Tune: Bonny black Bess: Or, Digby.
By J. Wade.
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OO what a madness 'tis to borrow or lend,
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Or for strong Liquor thy Money to spend;
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For when that is wanting thy courage is cool,
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Thou must stand Cap in hand to every fool:
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but if thy pockets can jing[l]e they will take thy word
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Oh then thou art company for knight or yet Lord:
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Then make much of a Penny as near as you can,
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For if that be wanting thou'rt counted no man.
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Then listen a while and i'le tell you in brief,
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The most of my sorrow, my care, and my grief;
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I had an estate Ile make it appear,
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Besides all my stock, was worth fifty a year:
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But so soon as I to drinking then fell,
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My Land I then Morgaged, my Cattle did sell;
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No sooner the money I for them had took,
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But it went to the Ale-house i'le swear on a book.
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Thus in a short time my money did waste,
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And I found myself not a pin better at last;
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Whilst other Tradesmen were working full hard,
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I f[r]om an Ale-house could not be debar'd:
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There would I sit tipling day after day,
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And my Wife she unto me full often would say,
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Make much of a Penny as near as you can,
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For if that be wanting thou'lt be counted no man.
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But the words that she spoke i'd regard not a straw
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But would kick her, & beat her, & keep her in awe;
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My children at home might eat the bare wall,
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Whilst I in an Ale-house for strong liquor did call:
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And my Hostis forsooth must needs sit on my knee
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though my wife she hath twice more beauty then she
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Yet that would not please my letcherous mind,
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Because for my Money my Hostis was kind.
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But in the conclusion here comes all my care,
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My back it grew thin, and my pockets grew bare;
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Then I told my Hostis my pittiful tale,
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In hopes that my sorrows she would bewail:
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But she turn'd up her nose, and she looked a squoy,
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You might have been wiser she straight did reply;
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This was all the comfort that I got from she,
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That always pretended my friend for to be.
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THerefore all young-men that loves the Ale-bench
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Some counsel i'le give them before they go hence;
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If thou sit'st day and night, & drink'st never so fast
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Yet thou'lt find thy own home is the best at last:
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It is but for your money they wait you upon,
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And when that is wanting you'r lightly look't on;
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If she sees but two-pence you run on the score,
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She I swear by her troth she will trust you no more
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Then have a care young-men, be ruled n time,
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Lest drink overcome thee, in old days you pine:
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For you see Good-fellows how thread-bare they go
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And what good-husbandry brings a man to;
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For some lives most bravery tho means they have small,
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And some that has hundreds do quickly spend all;
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Then make much of a penny as neat as you can,
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For if that be wanting thou'rt counted no man.
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'Tis money you see makes a Lord, or yet Earl,
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'Tis money you see thats sets out a young Girl;
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Likewise 'tis money makes the Lawyer to prate,
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& 'tis money doth make the man love his wife Kate
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And 'tis money breeds love where never was none,
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Although she be old, yet money makes her young:
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A Knight or a Begger, whatever they be
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If they have but money they'r welcome to me.
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Thus money you see, and do well understand,
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If a poor man can but get it, he buys house and land
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But it must not be those that works hard all day,
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And at night in an Ale-house doth throw it away.
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Nay, that will not serve, but twice as much more,
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If his word it will pass, he runs on the score;
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Then all the week after, though then he don't seed
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He wanteth bread-corn his poor children to feed,
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Therefore be advised boon Companions all,
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For you see the worlds so they laugh at a mans fall
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With speed your old haunts pray begin for to shun,
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Take warning by others the which are undone:
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You'l say a good-fellow it is a brave name,
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But many a man doth pay dear for the same:
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The which hath all spent, now in Goal he doth lye,
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And none will relieve him in his poverty.
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But some men have got such a spark in their throat
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That I would not be him that should quench't for a groat;
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All the fair words his rife can him give,
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Yet he'l not be ruled though poor he doth live:
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Hang money he crys, till all on't is gone.
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As for house no Land I mean to buy none;
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I must see my Hostis to go neat and fine,
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Althought that my family doth starve and pine.
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And thus have I told you the conditions of some,
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That all long of strong liquor will never keep home
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His stock it decays, although his wife cries,
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And in the conclusion a begger he dies:
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but a good husband's means you see doth increase
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He maintains his houshold in joy and in peace;
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Then make much of a penny as near as you can,
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For if that be wanting, thou'lt be counted no man.
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