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WHEN Naboth's Vineyard look'd ſo fine,
The King cry'd out, Wou'd this were mine ?
And yet no Reaſon cou'd prevail,
To bring the Owners to a Sale ;
Jezabel ſaw with Haughty Pride,
How Ahab griev'd to be deny'd :
And thus accoſted him with Scorn,
Shall Naboth make a Monarch Mourn ?
A King and weep ? The Grounds your own :
I'll veſt the Garden in the Crown.
With that She hatch'd a Plot, and made
Poor Naboth anſwer with his Head :
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|English ballads > Literature & Theatre > Garden plot > (1) [PAGE 1]|
|Description||Price one penny. First line reads: When Naboth's vineyard look'd so fine. In one column. Sometimes attributed to William King.|
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