Page:Mary le More, a lamentable Irish song.pdf/7

 Our Church-men they are little better,

if the truth it were well known,

They take the King for Britain's head,

but part of his laws they will not own.

Brotherly love is out of faſhion,

neighbours they cannot agree;

They ſpend their money at the law,

and bring themſelves to poverty.

By racking, ſharping, and deceiving,

'tis hard to find a man that's juſt

Becauſe they ſeldom find the way

to pay the thing they take in truſt.

There's dice-men, ſhow-men, mounting ſailors

people pretending to be dumb,

Fortune-tellers, and quack doctors,

by ſuch vagrants we're undone.

Foreigners we do encourage,

ay, dear neighbour, this is truth;

Good Scots ale and highland whiſky

hath no reliſh in our mouth.

Brandy and rum we chooſe to drink,

and many coſtly things beſide,

There's nothing that appears amongſt us

but perfect poverty and pride.

Now obſerve the pride of women,

who they walk with ſuch an air,