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OATES
WELL THRESH'T.
Being a Dialogue of Country-make
Betwixt a Farmer, and his Man-Boy, Jack.
The Good Man, who had lost much by the Grain,
Hears Presbyter-Jack to Plead for it in vain.
The Tune, Which no Body can deny, etc.
The Burden must be Twice Repeated.
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Jack.
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OUr Oates, last Week not worth a Groat,
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Have, Sir, (which all do wonder at)
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Abomination thriv'd of late;
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Which no Body can deny, Sir.
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Master.
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Be all the Tribe of Oates Accurs't,
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And the Old Dotard too, that first
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The Brat within his Hedges nurst,
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And sow'd such Wicked Seed, Boy.
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Jack.
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Good Master, pray your Fury stop;
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For, as the Saying is, I hope,
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You'll shortly see a Doctor-Crop,
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And many more besides, Sir.
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Master.
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A Curse on everything, that's height Oates;
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Both Old & Young, both Black & White Oates,
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Both Long & Short, both Light & Tite Oates:
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I hate the Vip'rous Breed, Boy.
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Jack.
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Your Oates, now Ripe, Sir, do appear;
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For they begin to hang the Ear;
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The Time of Cutting them draws near,
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If my Skill fails me not, Sir.
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Master.
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Then down with 'em, and all their Train;
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Let not a Blade of them remain,
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Our poor Land to infect again;
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pitty one should scape, Boy.
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Jack.
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Where shall I reek them, (the Sithes Edge
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They've felt) in Barn, or under Hedge?
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For they are fit for Cart, or Sledge,
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And a Roping only want, Sir.
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Master.
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E'en if thou wilt, lodge them in thy Barn;
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For they shall ne'r come amongst my Corn;
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Or Cart them, if thou wilt, to Tyburn;
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And there too Truss them up, Boy.
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Jack.
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Th' are hous'd, Sir; But the Trash all Sense
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Exceeds, that's in 'em: By what Means,
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This Filthy Oates shall we ere cleanse?
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From all that Roguish Stuff, Sir?
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Master.
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Go, get a pack of Sturdy Louts,
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And let them lustily Thresh their Coats;
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Too well you cannot Thresh Damn'd Oates;
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Which no Body can deny, Boy.
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Jack.
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Th' are thresh't, & wimb'd, & made as clean,
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As hands can do't; but all in vain:
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For still Base Oates behind remain:
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What shall we do with 'em, Sir?
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Master.
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Let 'em divided be (like Martyrs
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Of Royal Justice) into Quarters;
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Then ground in Mill, or bray'd in Mortars:
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So Oates ought to be serv'd, Boy.
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Jack.
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How shall I use the Straw? 'Tis good
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Only to cast out in the Road,
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And under Foot to Dung be trod;
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And there to lye and rot, Sir.
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Master.
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Burn't, like an Heretick, in Flame;
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And Expiate so our Guilt and Shame,
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For giving Long-Tail'd Oates such Fame,
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Abhorr'd by all but us, Boy.
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Beyond Sea th'are kick't out of Door;
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But held with us Here in such Store,
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That Oates we even do Adore:
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But Curst be Oates, say I, Boy.
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Jack.
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What shall we now at last, Sir, do
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With this Same Paultry Oates, by You
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So hated, and admired by few;
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And those both Knaves and Fools, Sir.
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Master.
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Let Oates be cast to Ravenous Hogs,
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Or ground for Meat for Hungry Dogs;
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And nowhere Sown, but in deep Bogs,
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Or Bottom of a Jakes, Boy.
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Or to the Fowls o'the' Air be thrown,
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By Vermine to be prey'd upon;
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Or out o'th' World by Whirlwinds blown,
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To th Devil's Arse of Peak, Boy.
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Let ev'ry Tongue, and Tail i'th' Ile,
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Of Man, of Bird, of Beast, defile
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Oates so Detestable, Oates so Vile;
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And 'twill be so, thou'lt see, Boy.
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Or if to Popery thou incline,
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Thou shalt have Oates encag'd in a Shrine,
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And shew about that Trash Divine;
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And this will get thee Pence, Boy.
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Jack.
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Let it, Good Master, pray be so,
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And I'le amongst the Papists go,
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With my O rare Shite, & my O brave Show,
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Till I a Pension get, Sir.
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And then I'le Coach it up and down,
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From Country, and from Town to Town,
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Till o're the World I've made Oates known,
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For a very R------in Grain, Sir.
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