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EBBA 36935

British Library - 516.m.18
Ballad XSLT Template
THE
SAILORS GARLAND:
OR THE
TICKET BUYERS Lamentation.
To the Tune of CHEVY CHASE.

GOD prosper long our noble King,
His Fleet and Sailors all;
And grant that they their Pay may have,
And Pride may have a Fall.

Where Courage stout and noble Blood
Within the Heart doth reign,
There Pity soft for others Woes
Doth pant in every Vein.

Our gracious King by Pity moved
To do his Sailors Right,
To Parliament did recommend
Their sad and woful Plight.

A Usurer in Lothbury,
A Jew of high Renown,
Hearing the Sailors would be paid
Strait hasted up to Town.

All in his Hall the Clerks amazed
And Agents frighted sore
Adieu---cried out For---ty per Cent,
Adieu---for evermore.

The Jew he sighed---alack my Head
And Heart it acheth much!
But hold, says he,---I've got it now,
Pray tell me---won't they touch?

What pay the Navy all---d' you say?
Sure that can never be,
For then much greater Men must lose
Their Trades as well as we.

A Sanhedrim we straight must call
Upon a Thing so new:
Go summon all, Great Shiloch first,
He's trusty and true blue.

While yet he spake, lo at the Gate,
The Head of all the Tribe,
Shiloch appear'd, the most expert
At Counsel or at Bribe.

His Chatter and his Laugh so loud
Was heard quite to the Door,
His Belly of enormous Size
Came strutting in before.

Soon tawny Shadrach plodded in,
Whose Face and Wig contend
Which in their Hue most like shall be
To Belzeebub the Feind.

Shadrach from Father circumcis'd
A Wight descended sure,
Either from Abraham the Jew,
Or Ismael the Moor.

I stopt, quoth he, by Precedent
The Pinch-gut halfpenny,
Tho' Tars on short Allowance starv'd,
And better they than we.

From Tower-hill with hang-dog look
Came one would move your Pity,
What no more Tickets, Sir, said he;
ruin our trading City.

Quoth Shiloch with a Grin, my Friends,
When Ships to Greenland sail,
They dexterously throw out a Tub
To fool the mighty Whale.

Prompt Payment publickly to blame
May prove a dangerous Scheme,
Another Project we'll propose
For to direct the Stream.

Something be sure must needs be paid,
Let's give them two Months certain:
The other four, you Friends shall share
With me behind the Curtain.

Their Wages too we must advance
Some Shillings Augmentation:
What tho' it Freightage should destroy,
That only hurts the Nation.

As toasted Cheese the Mouse allures
Within the Trap to venture,
Such Bates as these will surely make
The heedless Seamen enter.

When once they're caught, we'll turn 'em o'er
For ever and for ay,
They'll then be Voluntiers for Life,
And we'll divide their Pay.

Whilst Cent per Cent our Friends can gain
We are sure of being courted,
Nor can the Sailors well complain,
For they will be transported.

But these their Plots we know [?]
Will all to nothing bring,
Then Sailors may throw up [?]
And cry God [?]

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