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EBBA 36039

Manchester Central Library - Blackletter Ballads
Ballad XSLT Template
England's Complaint:
Or, the Nation's Abuse thro
Clipping and Coyning.
To the Tune of, When I was young, I had no Wit.

I.
CLippers and Coyners
your Works are not right,
The Curse of the Nation
upon you will light;
[?]r Clipping of Plate,
and Coyning of Dross,
By which Rich and Poor
hath come to much Loss.

II.
The Curse of the Merchants,
who Credit doth give,
Will light on your Jackets
as long as you live,
Who are forc'd to take Guineas
at Value too high,
Since Clipping and Coyning
good Money doth stry.

III.
The Curse of our Gentry,
who Lands out do farm,
Must likewise attend you,
for they have some Harm;
Who quite careless are
their Rents to call in,
Since our Coin is compos'd
of Brass, Iron, and Tin.

IV.
The Curse of poor Tradesmen
may make your Hearts ake,
Who stands in their Shops
good Money to take;
And when they have sold,
and comes to be paid,
To receive one Half Crown
their Hearts are afraid.

V.
The Curse of poor Soldiers
who fights for their Pay,
And must take your Trash
without saying Nay;
Are many and grievous,
and on you will rest,
Since they amongst others
thereby are opprest.

VI.
The Curse of our Saylors,
or at least their poor Wives,
Will light upon Coyners,
who Mischief contrives;
New Rings for their Fingers
can hardly be had,
Our Gold is so dear,
and our Money so bad.

VII.
The Curse of all Ale-wives
most heavy will light,
Your Clipping and Coyning
doth them a great Spight;
Such at your vile Actions
in no wise can wink,
Who must change a bad Shilling,
or loose their good Drink.

VIII.
And above all the rest,
the Curse of the Poor
Will Coyners persue,
and lye at your Door:
Who when they have wrought
a long Summers day,
A Counterfeit Shilling
is dropt for their pay.

IX.
With which their poor Wives
to the Market doth hye,
And many things cheapen
before they can buy;
The dread of false Coyn
doth Sellers surprize,
That scarce one in Ten
can believe their own Eyes.

X.
Were you all to be hang'd,
as some Coyners have been,
Or burn'd at a Stake,
it would be no sin;
For the worst of High Robbers,
I tell you what's true,
Deserves much more favour
than any of you.


BRISTOLL Printed by Will. Bonny, in Tower-lane.

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