The good Fellowes Complaint:
Who being much grieved strong Licqour should
In paying a Farthing a Pot for Excise.
To the Tune of, Raged and torne and true.
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COme hither my jovall Blades,
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and listen unto my Song,
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[?]u that of severall Trades,
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[?] have borne the burthen long:
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[?] So long as the Patentees,
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[?] in England kept on foot,
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[?]ome Knaves got by there feese,
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[?] the Devill and all to boote:
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[O] fie upon this Excise,
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['tis pitty] that ever 'twas paid,
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[It makes] good Licqour to rise,
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[and p]ulls downe many a Trade.
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[?] it first began,
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[?]ce to crosse the Seas,
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[?] English man,
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[?]en the same disease:
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[?]egot it at first,
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[?] then to maintaine,
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[?] an old Duch woman nurst,
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[?]s't in the Cradle of Spaine,
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[O fie upo]n this Excise,
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[that ever i]t first was paid,
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[It makes go]od Licqour to rise,
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[and pu]lls downe many a Trade.
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[?] Companion for Warre,
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[?]lls a whole Kingdom with care,
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[?]owes whereever they are,
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[?]ar a great part for their share:
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[?] never should grieve me much,
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[?]hough more Excises were,
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The thing I onely grutch,
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is that of Ale and Beere:
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I never would vex nor pine,
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whatever you say or thinke,
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To dubble the price of Wine,
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for that I seldome drink. But fie, etc.
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However it came to passe,
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that drinke is growne so deare,
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The Tradesman is the Asse,
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which must the burthen beare,
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What though the Brewer pay,
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mine Hoast payes him againe,
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Whilst that good Fellowes they,
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do all the losse sustaine:
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O fie upon this Excise,
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that ever it first was paid,
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It makes good Licqour to rise,
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and pull downe many a Trade.
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The Blacksmith which doth get,
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his living through the fire,
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And being throughly het,
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to drinke heel' then desire,
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He calls to another man,
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with him to spend his groat,
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For't was not a peny Can,
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could squench the sparke in's throat.
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Oh fie upon this Excise,
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pitry that ever 'twas paid,
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It makes good Licqour to rise,
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and pulls downe many a Trade.
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The second Part, To the same Tune.
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THe Shoomaker and the Glover,
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the Taylor and the Weaver,
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When they meet one another,
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they go to drinke together:
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But for the od Farthing losse,
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the Taylor deepely swore,
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Hee'd ne're layes his Leggs acrosse,
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to worke for Ale-wives more,
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Oh fie upon this Excise,
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that ever it first was paid,
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It makes good Licqour to rise.
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and pulls downe many a Trade.
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If any Good Fellow doth want,
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and calls for a pot on trust,
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Now Charity's growne so scant,
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that out of the door he thrust:
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The Brewer he must be paid,
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the Hostis she will not score,
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Yet drinke is smaller made,
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then't was is times before,
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O fie upon this Excise,
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pitty that ever 'twas paid,
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It makes good Licqour to rise,
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and pulls downe many Trade.
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The Tinker which doth ring,
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his Kettle through the Towne,
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He merrily us'd to sing,
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the Tune of Malt's come downe,
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But what is the meaning of this,
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which grieves me at the heart,
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To see how good Ale is,
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for two pence sold a Quart:
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O fie upon this Excise,
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pitty that ever 'twas paid, etc.
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No marvell the female Sex,
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so much do scould and brawle,
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They'le never cease to vex,
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tell that good Licqour fall:
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I heard an Old Woman to say,
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who'd never a Tooth in her head,
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See'd liv'd this many a day,
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onely with Ale and Bread:
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With that she began to weepe,
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and sadly thus complaine,
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Her pention would never keepe
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her, till'th pay day comes againe:
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O fie upon the Excise,
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pitty that ever 'twas paid, etc.
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Good Fellowes both great and small,
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then pray that warres may cease,
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That no Excise at all,
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may be in the time of peace:
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For now to conclude in the end,
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and cast up the reckoning eaven,
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Considering what they spend,
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they loose a full pot in seven:
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O fie upon this Excise,
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pitty that ever 'twas paid,
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It makes good Licqour to rise,
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and pulls downe many a trade.
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