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When these were gone, a distant noise I heard,
From num'rous Crowds that afar off appear'd,
And Voices crying out, Make room, make room,
For here th'Oppressors of the Wretched come,
Those Gluttons that their own Tun bellies fed,
At the Poor's cost, whose Bowels pin'd for Bread,
Whilst these Sack-bibing Knaves in Taverns lay,
And din'd on Pig and Capon ev'ry day:
Thus on that Charity themselves would feast,
Giv'n by the Rich to succour the Distrest.
As the fat wheezing bulky Tribe drew nigh,
This with the Rabble was the common cry.
At last to th'Bar a near approach they made,
And to the Court their due Obeisance paid,
Which was no sooner by the Culprits done,
But their infernal Charge was thus begun.

These Knaves, my Lord, assembled at the Bar,
That look so bluff, and seem so fat and fair,
Were, upon Earth, appointed to secure
Their Parish Rights, and to subsist the Poor,
By well dispensing to the needy Crew,
What's given, and what's collected as their due,
That what good Christians for their succour spar'd,
Might be amongst the hungry Wretches shar'd.
Instead of this they basely prov'd unjust,
Fill'd their own Bags, and falsifi'd their Trust,
Drown'd half the Parish Charity in Wine,
To fill the Paunches of insatiate Swine:
Could never meet, or Parish-Business do,
Without Canary and a Fowl or two.
Nor terminate one trifling Debate,
Without the Pleasures of a Tavern Treat.
If some poor crasie Alms-man Lame or Sick,
Decreed to starve on Nine-pence for a Week,
Petition'd these proud Masters of the Poor,
To make the scanty Sum but Three pence more,
So many Tavern Consults must be held,
Before they to the Pauper's Suit would yield,
That Pounds in Wine of the Poors Money flew,
E'er the dull Sots determin'd what to do:
At last, perhaps, 'twas gen'rously agreed,
He should have half the Sum to serve his need,
Three half pence Weekly added to his Store,
To keep the Wretch still miserably Poor,
That Want and Sickness, meeting with old Age,
Might hurry his starv'd Carcass off the Stage,
When large Allowance would his Life preserve,
But 'twas their Wishes all the Poor might starve;
For ev'ry one they hasten'd to the Grave,
Themselves, not Parish, did their Pensions save:
Thus on the Poors just Dues they swill'd and fed,
And were their Lords alive, and Heirs when dead.

When Mars and Venus in conjunction were,
And, by their Influence, mov'd some wanton Pair,
To taste Loves Joys, without the Parson's leave,
And mutual Blessings to each other give:
If the kind Lass too forward in her Lust,
Receiv'd the Pleasure with too great a gust,
And in nine Months brought forth a Girl or Boy,
The squawling Fruits of their unlicens'd Joy,
Such a discov'ry prov'd a gainful Matter
To these, the plagues of each poor Fornicator;
Who the kind welcome News no sooner heard,
But the stern Lobcocks in a Gang appear'd,
And with their awful Frowns, and woful Threats,
Frighted the Female Sinner into Fits,
Who, coming to her foolish self again,
Declares the Father, where 'twas got, and when,
How many times she'd sin'd, and what he said,
To coax her to resign her Maidenhead?
Whether the Gem upon a Bed was lost,
Or standing with her Rump against a Post?
Whether her kind Consent was fairly won,
Or if the pleasing Job by force was done?
Whether fair Promises her Heart ensnar'd,
Or Money gain'd admission to her Beard?
What she first thought on't, how she lik'd the Sport?
Whether it pleas'd her well, or if it hurt?
Whether she cry'd, or had a greater Will,
When once engag'd to struggle or lie still?
And whether, when attack'd in Loves surprise,
She open'd not her Legs, but shut her Eyes?
Thus each old bawdy Sot, with ruby Face,
In Gold Twine Buttons, and a Band of Lace,
Would take his turn th'Offender to torment,
With Questions fulsome and impertinent:
Thus listen with a lank lascivious Ear,
To bawdy Secrets answer'd out of fear,
Shameful to tell, and scandalous to hear:
And when they've pump'd the silly Female dry,
To persecute the Father then they fly,
Make use of all the advantage they have gain'd,
By Threats extorted from his Female Friend;
Next to some neighbouring Tavern they adjourn,
From whence the Constables, with Whiskers stern,
Is with his Worships Coram nobis sent
To bring the wanton Knave to Punishment;
The frightful Scrawle with privacy is serv'd,
And all respect to the new Chub observ'd.
Trembling before his Betters then he's led,
Who wait for some Proposals to be made,
With hints of Passages they shame the Youth,
Who wonders how they came by so much Truth;
Not thinking that the Partner in his Play,
Would all the Secrets of their Game betray:
Th'Offender cautious of his good Repute,
Entreats the guzling Catchpoles to be mute;
And that for silence sake he'll gladly close
With any Terms, in season, they'll propose:
They promise him to be his faithful Friends;
Tho' all they aim at is their own bye Ends;
Vow Friendship, Secrecy, and all that's kind,
Till they have charm'd the Bubble to their Mind;
Then tell him 'tis the best and surest way,
That he the Sum of Twenty Pounds shou'd pay;
And the whole Parish they'll take care shall be
A Father to his hopeful Progeny.
The fearful Sinner chearfully complies,
Thinks them most honest, and himself most wise,
Pays down the Sum, and gives a noble Treat,
To have the Infant made some Beggar's Brat.
They share the Booty, to themselves conceal'd,
Thus cheat the Parish and abuse the Child.
These Ills, and more notorious Crimes, my Lord,
In Hell's black Book appear upon Record,
Against these Sots so stuff'd with flowing Bowls,
Their bloated Looks betray their guilty Souls;
Therefore, my Lord, I beg that you'll decree,
Their Pains may equal to their Merit be.
The bulky Cormorants stood al-a-mort,
And pleaded Guilty to the awful Court,
Beg'd hard for Mercy, bowing very low,
But Hell's just Judge would no Compassion show;
Who with stern Looks that did his Pow'r become,
Tuck'd Thumb in Girdle and pronounc'd their Doom.

It is my final Judgment and Command,
That you Chin-high in mull'd Canary stand,
Longing to drink your fill, but shall not stoop
To bless your thirsty Gullets with a drop:
Fat roasted Fowls, girt round with Sausages,
Your greedy Eyes shall at a distance teaze:
Eternal Thirst and Hunger shall you feel,
Behold good Food, but never make one Meal.
Ten Thousand Hags shall your Tormenters be,
From their curs'd Tongues you shall be never free,
But bear their brawling Jars to all Eternity.