University of Virginia Library

You that in stories take delight
To pass the tedious winter night,
Lend your attention here a-while,
The sequel it will make you smile:

Pass by its faults with negligence,
And think the author wanted sense;
And look not on it as a crime,
What's usher'd in for sake of rhyme;
None can pretend all men to please:
But here it comes just as it is.

There was a gentleman of late,
Who had an opulent estate,
A virtuous lady, chaste and fair,
That did three children to him bear:
Two sons; as usual, the first-born
Was heir; the second had a turn
For husbandry and rural life,
But chanc'd to wed a tippling wife.
The heir was Waste-all nam'd; and he
Was justly nam'd so, as you'll see:
Laborious was the second's name,
Whose wife Miss Tipple must needs claim:

The daughter, youngest of the three,
Was beauty's perfect symmetrie.
No byass'd misconstructed blame
Could ever stain Miss Jenny's name.
Her careful pious mother taught her
All duties that became a daughter;
And she as willing to obey,
Receiv'd her precepts ev'ry day;
Till she arriv'd in the complex
The perfect mirror of her sex:
She could be chamber-maid and spinner,
And on a pinch could dress a dinner:
Thus, country-like, she did acquire
To manage both at barn and bire;
Yet could behave in her vocation
By the best born in the nation;
Of her, her father comfort had;
Her mother on her death-bed said,

“Your parents, Jean, you ne'er despis'd;
Therefore by me be now advis'd,
Ay learn to work, go where you will;
Can do, my dear, does seldom ill.
And for this reason we all know
All things are fickle here below:
Before you end your precious life,
You may become a farmer's wife;
Yea fortune may, if she's not kind,
Cause you to wed a lab'ring hind:
An idle life's unsafe and sinful,
But diligence is often gainful;
Pray for a blessing from above;
Submit to the good will of Jove;
Be ay content in poverty,
Grateful as in prosperity:
And when I'm sleeping in the dust,
You'll find my counsel good, I trust.”

Now mark what must not be forgot,
This worthy gentleman of note
Had an old tenant in his ground,
Whose counsel was ay safe and sound:
His name was Caution; and had long
Liv'd in the place: he was not young;
For I'm inform'd he was not under
Twelve years, of being ag'd two hunder.
It passes for a true relation,
That he's the oldest in the nation:
Some say Auld-wont his wife, was more,
Before she wed him, than six-score.
Be that as 'twill, I'm very sure,
They were no churls, nor were they poor:
They lov'd it well to see folk thrive:
They many children kept alive,
With bits and sops about their table:
As for the poor, that were not able
To work, they never went away
Without sufficient alms one day.

But some with grudging eyes beheld
His prosp'rous state, with envy fill'd,
Thus to insult the honest man,
In public companies began:

“There's Caution, tax-man of Burnhaugh,
Inclos'd with weeds of arns and saugh;
Securely sits both warm and dry,
Nothing oppress'd with poverty;
Yet he deals more unto the poor,
Than all the increase of our store:
And as an oracle of fame,
All fools admire his very name;
Yea, our good laird, though he be wise,
With wiser Caution must advise,
Concerning his rash son and heir,
That rambles wasting here and there;
Yet both their wits can ne'er contrive
A mean to make that young man thrive.”

Thus, when he heard their taunts about,
His patience was so much worn out,
That, like a clock run near the hour,
He did assume the speaking power.

“My friends, (said he), what though I be
A tax-man? doubtless so are ye;
Each of you in as good possession,
Though not content with your condition:
And what though I sit dry and warm?
Can that to you do any harm?
Use means, with frugal honesty,
And then you'll sit as snug as I.
'Tis true, and must needs be confess'd,
With poverty I'm not oppress'd;
But that's the blessing of kind Heav'n,
That to me such good luck has giv'n.
As for my giving to the poor,
More than the increase of your store,
I, by experience, see 'tis plain,
The more I give, the more I gain.
Ay since I held my tenement,
Each year thereof I paid my rent,
And had enough to give and take;
Which freely, for the Sender's sake,
I frankly dealt unto the poor,
That call'd for pity at my door:
Oft have I prov'd that true record,
Who gives the poor lends to the Lord;
But now there's few within the land
Will trust a farthing in his hand.

But some think neither sin nor shame,
To play some guineas at a game;
Or at horse-races wagers lay,
Which shall be foremost, black or bay:
And some to hunting are so glu'd,
And love so much the sport renew'd;
That they, to purchase dogs and hounds,
Will forfeit honour, wealth, and grounds.
Some love to gratifie their eyes
With new-form'd plans and rarities
Of building, planting: and there be
That study schemes of husbandrie,
Improving grounds to such a pitch,
Intending thereby to make rich;
Some venture on the mighty main,
Some unknown treasure to obtain:
Some face the awful scenes of war,
To gain the trophies of a scar;
Ambitious madness men pursue,
But there's but few, a very few,
That walk in any ways conform
To Heaven's laws, or them perform:
Few when they're blest with wealth in store,
Deign to take pity on the poor.

But Heaven's Judge, that judgeth right,
Seeing such wretches, in his sight,
Consume his lib'ral gifts to feed
Their lusts, while his poor people need
To be supplied; then will not he
On such at last avenged be?
Yea, we may daily see and hear,
That those in honour who shin'd clear,
The only top-props of the place,
Are turn'd to ruin and disgrace:
By the effects, I guess the cause
Has been their breach of Heaven's laws.
For those in the superior rank,
Do ruin inferiors point blank:
And equals, one another would
Devour with pleasure, if they could:
For pride, intemp'rance, and oppression,
Abound so much in all the nation;
Landlords oppress'd by government,
Make them again rax out their rent,
Their tenants to oppress; and they
Cause their sub-tenants to obey,
And serve with rigour at command,
Like Israelites in Egypt-land:
Like them they over-burden'd cry
To Heav'n against their tyranny.
Jove, who is an impartial Judge,
He hears the poor, he's their refuge;
And their oppressors will annoy;
And with just judgment them destroy.
Witness the late rebellion, which
Swept off oppressors poor and rich;
And if those that are left behind
Be to inferiors so unkind,
Just judgment sure will find them out,
And that ere long, I make no doubt.”

Then spake Laborious in a rage,
“Men have been plagu'd in ev'ry age,
With you, and scoundrels such as you,
Who 'bout nonsense make such a-do:
Such senseless tattling fools imagine,
That we know nothing of religion,
Because we don't observe the motions
Of their poor whining vulgar notions.
Your scoundrel kind, Sir, and the poor,
Are nations' plagues, I'm very sure;
For they're inclin'd to idleness,
Under pretences of distress;
And you, as senseless, them supply,
Under pretence of piety,
Such feigned hospitality
Is an inlet to villainy,
And gives encouragement to such,
As on the public would encroach,
Like drones that in the hive abide,
And eat what frugal bees provide,”

Then Caution said, “My friends, allow
That I but once more speak to you:
I only give what God gives me,
To those that are in poverty;
And by experience I perceive,
The more I give, the more I have:
While you, with all your frugal cunning,
Through various schemes and arts are running,
Contriving how you may oppress
The poor, and put them in distress;
And to maintain your pride and lust,
To ev'ry man you are unjust;
To brutes, and to the earth itself,
Intending to increase your pelf.
You think it good and lawful thrift,
The King and government to shift
Of their just tributary rent,
On cov'tousness you are so bent.

Your equals daily you envy,
Because they're not in poverty;
And if you can, by slight or might,
You will deprive them of their right.

As for inferiors, do you not
As much as if you'd cut their throat?
You daily in a study dive
How to cut off their means to thrive,
How to impair their privileges;
And with superior awe, obliges
Them rig'rously to serve, while you
Frown on them with contracted brow;
Coarse victuals, and not half you give,
Of what they were wont to receive.

As touching beasts, you over-drive them,
And often of their food deprive them;
Were't not their price you fear to lose,
Daily to death you would them toss:
Thus brutes feel your oppressing hand,
And grant to answer your command.

To earth unjust, like atheists, you
Manure, and dig, and dung, and plow;
Intending maugre Jove to have
More increase than you can receive.
There's scarce a bit of ancient swaird,
Which our forefathers ever spar'd
For common pasture to the poor,
But you must tear up and manure.
Such things as these you may approve;
But curs'd is he land-marks remove:
And, notwithstanding all the ways
You take to gain, your stock decays;
As witness ev'ry month we hear;
Yea, daily from the gazetteer;
Your fair estates expos'd to sale,
To keep your bodies out of jail.
By what is said, I don't intend,
The least among you to offend:
But truth is truth, think what you will;
I say no more; my friends, farewel.”