 | Poems by Matthew Stevenson |  |
7
Upon a Vintner that draws the Gentry better Wine upon Trust, than his daily Guests, the Dyers, for ready mony.
1
Report goes of lateThat Mun, and his Mate
Although going to Town-Close Gallowes,
They cannot procure
A glass of the pure
At White-Horse in St. Martins a Palace.
2
And good reason for'tWhen there they resort,
The Boy in the Bar does stand Centry,
And seeing blew hands
And Necks without Bands
He swears they are none of the Gentry.
3
And what if they be not?He might see, and see not.
Or, I his bold Coxcomb would crack:
He knows they are Jews
That ever more use,
To have mony i'th mouth of the sack.
4
Let a Hector but comeWith a Boy at his Bum,
8
And Thomas shall call
For the Pipe next the wall,
For the Mountebank and his Jack-pudding.
5
To Blades of the Blood,The Wine that is good
Brave Tom will draw all if he can,
Like that desperate Dick
Will have none do the trick
With his Wife, but a Gentleman.
6
Let their Bands be of lawnAnd the best shall be drawn,
The Gentry shall have't who e're wants
For Trade-men he cries
With the Woman, who buyes
Any Butter, or Cheese for Servants?
7
A Fig for long scoreTom draw the best for
Ready mony, or you may rue it,
For a Pudding good
The Gallants bring blood
But the Dyers are they bring the Suet.
8
If new fashion'd CloathsAnd all a mode Oaths
9
You'l draw by degrees
Your self to the lees
And then ride away with the Horse.
9
Since 'tis better farTo whiten the Bar,
That Ages to come may read it,
Then let us away
And Gallant like say
'Tis excellent wine on my credit.
10
Now Dyers I comeTo excuse honest Tom,
Though 'tis true, some wrong he has done ye
Ye drink, and withall
For a Reckoning ye call,
And ye pay him in Copper-mony.
| Poems by Matthew Stevenson | |