Glen Collection of printed music > Printed music > Wit and mirth, or, Pills to purge melancholy > Volume 3

46 Songs Compleat,
My Father was a thrifty Sir,
Till Soul and Body sundred,
Some say he was an Usurer,
For thirty in the Hundred :
He scrapt and scratcht, she pincht and patent,
That in her Body bore me ;
But I'll let fly, good cause why,
My Father was born before me.
My Daddy has his Duty done,
In getting so much Treasure,
I'll be as dutiful a Son,
For spending it in Pleasure ;
Five Pound a Quart shall cheer my Heart,
Such Nectar will restore me,
But I'll let fly, good cause why,
My Father was born before me.
My Grannum liv'd at Washington,
My Grandsir delv'd in Ditches,
The Son of old John Thrashington,
Whose Lantern Leather Breeches,
Cry'd, whither go ye ? whither go ye ?
Tho' Men do now adore me,
They ne'er did see my Pedigree,
Nor who was born before me.
My Gransir striv'd, and wiv'd, and thriv'd,
'Till he did Riches gather,
And when he had much Wealth atchiev'd,
Oh, then he got my Father :
Of happy Memory, cry I,
That e'er his Mother bore him,
I ne'er had been worth one Penny,
Had I been born before him.
To Free-school, Ca?nbridge, and Grays-Inn,
My gray-coat Gransir put him,
Till to forget he did begin,
The Leathern Breech, that got him ;
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