True Blew the Plowman, Or A Character of several Callings which he could not freely fancy, when he found their grand Deceit.
He never yet would change his Note,
He'd rather be aslave.
Nay wear a poor and thread-bare Coat.
than counted as a Knave.
To the Tune of,
The Country Farmer.
This May be Printed,
R. P.
NOw Trading is dead I resalve to contrive,
And study some calling in order to thrive,
But I will be just in what ever I do,
My Name I must tell you is honest
True Blew:
Though Fortune does oftentimes smile on a Knave,
By their unjust dealings they do get and save,
But honest Plain-dealing does live like a slave,
While Ranting brave Hectors goes gallant & brave.
At first I considered what Trade I might be,
To live with
Plain-Dealing without Knavery,
I would be a Brewer at first I did think,
And then to be be sure I shall never want drink:
But straightways I thought of the Brewers old fault
Who put in the
Water and left out the
Mault,
If I should do so and make pittiful Beer,
I should have the Curse of the
Tinkers I fear.
As I was a walking a long very sad,
I met a fine Hostels that wanted a Lad,
Her words were so wiinning I could do so less,
But go along with her to tend on the Guess,
She laid, when you wait on a jolly boon crew,
Each Pot as you draw, them be sure you score two,
I told her false-dealing now never would do,
'Twas better be ragged and torn and true.
If this be your dealings I never will stay,
Thought I then I'le pack up my Awls and away,
I finding by this how the current did run,
Poor men by those Ale-wives are often undone,
No wonder it is now that they are so great,
To flourish in Silks at so gallant a rate,
'Tis folly that makes men to sell their Estate,
While Ale-wives can flourish &. drink in their plate.
He told me no trouble nor cost he'd spare,
Of me he would take a particular care:
I would have a calling without all deceit,
But with such a one, I as yet could not meet,
My Father was willing my joys to compleat,
And now of a
Taylor I mean for to treat.
I went upon liking a
Taylor to be,
And now I will tell you a passage I see,
One brought in my Master some Cloath for a Cloak,
And he at his Cabbaging had a good stroak:
For taking his Shiers he whipt off an Ell,
And straight he condemn'd it, and sent it to Hell,
Down under his Shop-board, which when I did see,
Thought I then I'le ne'r be Prentice to thee.
A lusty brave
Miller came up to the Town,
And I as a Prentice with him must go down,
Thought I with an honest man now I am blest,
But soon I did find him as bad as the rest:
For if you'l believe me, I think in my Soul,
He dad a great Dish was as big as a Bowl,
And there was old taking and taking of Toul,
Thus he would be fishing against all controul.
Beside he was counted a slippery blade,
And fain would be toying with every Maid;
There was a young Lass, and her name it was
Kate,
With whom he would fain have bin playing the mate:
One day as she came with her Grist to the Mill,
My master the
Miller was tempting her still,
The Maiden with courage catch'd hold of his Ham,
And tumbled him headlong into the Mill-Dam.
It hapned to be the lower-side of the Mill,
But yet he lay crying and calling out still:
I could not tell well what the matter might be,
And therefore to him I did run hastily.
But when in the River I did him find,
Thought I in my Heart thou art serv'd in thy kind,
And thus by the Maiden the
Miller was fool'd,
For then in the River his Courage was cool'd.
Thought I, I will ne'r be a slave to this Elf,
For fear he should make me as had as himself,
With same honest Farmer i'le get me a place,
Where I may live happy and free from disgrace:
And thus I did leave the old
Miller i'le vow,
Then taking my self to the
Harrow and
Plow,
'Tis free from deceiving, all Men will allow,
I labour and live by the smeat of my brow.