Roome for a JUSTICE OR, The Life and Death of Justice WATERTON: Together with his Epitaph.
Presented to the view of the Citizens of London, and the rest of the good people at Wapping, Ratcliffe, and St. Katherines.
To the Tune of A Sunday Bak'd-Pudding.
A Justice that never could tell how to write,
But excellently skilld in the way of indite,
Has now bid adieu to this blessed light.
Never the like was seen.
He is ferrying ore the Stygian water,
With publique curses instead of the Psalter,
And sung to his Grave with ev'ry mans laughter,
Never, &c.
He hath stole in his years many a heavy plank,
And sold it for's Wenches that liv'd at Green-bank,
But the Divel at last hath paid him his thank,
Never, &c.
He was once a wondrous painful Calker,
And to his death a wonderful Talker,
I hope his Ghost will be no Walker,
Never, &c
By these good ways he grew to a Saint,
And in the profession never was faint,
Till Old Nick told him, Sir further you may'nt,
Never, &c.
Has sprung a leak, and now he is sunk
That has punisht so many for being but Drunk,
Ther's no cure for him now in the Soveraigns pump,
Never, &c.
But he hath mist the Hangman (the Divel choak him,
Though without all doubt the fiend will smoke him)
He bought all his Ropes to make him Okum,
Never, &c:
There never was any so well stopt a chink,
Unless it were Col. Hewson the blink;
Yet such an En'my to them that love Drink,
Never, &c.
A petulant bold pragmatick fellow,
A Knave deckt up in the fools colour yellow,
That when he should speak did use for to bellow,
Never, &c.
But now he is gotten into the dark
I marvel what he will doe for his Clark,
His ten Groats, a Noble, and sometimes a Mark,
Never, &c.
And now he is quietly under the Ground,
And secur'd in a worse then his or Lobs Pound,
Where shall now he go his Sunday's Round,
Never, &c.
That such a Heaven-driver of the State,
And made the Offenders come up to his Rate,
Should miss th' high way, & enter the Divels broad Gate
Never, &c.
What then shall we do with the round house & Cages
What needs there the question, who is't that engages,
The Fiend that employ'd him, hath paid him his Wages,
Never, &c.
He was one of the wise men of the East,
His Worshipful Chops and Teeth never Ceast,
At a Jury's or the Sessions Feast,
Never, &c.
He sate very Gravely on the Bench,
But never favoured Woman or Wench,
Tis said they formerly gave him a wrench,
Never, &c.
Instead of peace he was Justice of Jarre,
All his delight was plac'd in a Bare,
As much as before twas in Pitch and Tarre,
Never, &c.
That trade had taught him to know a Flaw,
With the help of his spectacles in the Law,
But we all know who has him in his Claw,
Never, &c.
If he be as tis like such a troublesome Guest,
Below as here, where he was never at Rest,
He's to be foreman of the infernal Quest.
Never the like was seen.
An Epitaph.
Here lyes the Sway of Ratliffe High-way
That awed with his Frown, all Wapping Town,
This reverend dust is the reliques of a Justice,
Worms come not again to trouble his Brain,
If the Coffin be not tite, we shall nere be qui't
A Rascal so auker was nere made of a Calker,
He was Crosse and Contrary, and from the Proverb did Vary,
Liv'd by Water and so, yet dyed ev'ry mans Foe.
Reader stay not on's Grave, but passe by the KNAVE,
For you'l be tane in the Lurch, for your staying from Church.
Never the like was seen.
London, Printed for Charles Gustavus.