Page:Poor man's labour never done, or, The mother's advice.pdf/6

 Whom Pluto willingly will hand,

into his gloomy cell,

And throw them in among the dd

eternally to yell.

Chor. Whilſt the merry, &c.

The Tapſter from the cellar,

that fills their pots with froath;

The nimble finger'd Taylor,

that nips away our cloath:

The Brewer and the Baker,

ſhall there each one abuſe,

And Criſpin the ſhoe-maker,

bewail his rotten ſhoes. Chor. Whilſt, &c.

The Banker for purloining,

will give the Devil his due,

For clipping and for coining,

if all that's ſaid be true.

Nor will the gripping Lawyer,

atone his forging ſin,

For ſoon in hell old Satan will,

make Parchment of his ſkin.

Chor. Whilſt the merry, &c.

But as for Perriwig-makers,

that curſed cheating crew,

That lye as faſt as Quakers,

and ſell old hair for new;

Old Beelzebub their maſter

when he doth get them there,

Will bake, and boil, and roaſt them,

as they have done old hair.

Chor. Whilſt the merry merry ſongſters, &c.