The Prodigals Resolution
OR, My Father was Born before me.
To a Pleasant Mew Tune.
I Am a lusty lively Lad,
new come to one and twenty,
My Father left me all he had,
both Gold and Silver plenty;
Now he's in Grave, I will be brave,
the Ladies shall adore me,
I'le court and kiss, what hurt's in this,
My Dad did so before me.
My Father was thirfty Sir,
till Soul and body sund'ed
Some say he was a Vsurer,
for thirty in the hundred;
He scrapt and scratcht, [...]he pincht and patch'd
that in her helly bore me;
But i'le let flye, a good cause why,
My Father was born before me.
My Daddy had his Duty done,
in getting so much treasure,
I'le be as dutiful a Son,
for spending it in pleasure:
Five pounds a quart, shall chear my heart,
such Necture will restore me,
When Ladies call, I'le have at all,
My Father was born before me.
My Grandam liv'd at Washington,
my Grandsir delv'd in Ditches,
The Son of Old John Thrashington,
whose lanthorn leathern Breeches:
Cry'd, whither go ye, whither go ye,
though men do now adore me
They ne'r did see my Pedigree,
Nor who was born before me.
MY grandsir striv'd, & wiv'd, & thriv'd,
till he did Riches gather,
And when he had much wealth atchiev'd,
O then he got my Father:
Of happy memmory cry I,
that e're his Mother bore him,
I had not been worth one penny,
Had I been born before him.
To Free-school, Cambridge, and Grays-Inn'
my Grey-coat Grandsir put him,
Till to forget (he did begin)
the Leathern Breech that got him:
One dealt in Straw, 'tother in Law,
the one did Ditch and Delve it,
My Father store of Sattin wore,
My Grandsir Beggers Velvet.
So get I wealth, what care I if
my Grandsir were a Sawyer,
My Father prov'd to be a chief
subtle and Learned Lawyer,
By Cooks Reports, and tricks-in-Court,
he did with Treasure store me,
That I may say, Heavens bless the day,
My Father was born before me.
Some say, of late, a Merchant that
had gotten store of Riches,
In's Drininkn-room hung up his Hat,
his staff, and Leathern Breeches;
His stockings garter'd up with straws,
e're Providence did store him,
His Son was Sheriff of London, 'cause
His Father was born before him.
So many blades that Rant in silk,
and put on Scarlet cloathing,
At first did spring from Butter-milk,
their Ancestors worth nothing:
Old Adam, and our Grandam Eve,
by digging and by spinning,
Did to all Kings and Princes give
Their Radical beginning.
My Father to get me estate,
though selfish yet was slavish,
I'le spend it at another rate,
and be as lewdly lavish:
From Mad-men, Fools, and knaves he did
litigiously receive it,
If so he did, Iustice forbid,
But I to such should leave it.
At Play-houses and Tennis-Court,
I'le prove a noble Fellow,
I'le Court my Doxies to the sport,
of O! brave Punchinello:
I'le Dice and Drab, and Drink and Stab,
no Hector shall out-roar me,
If Teachers[?] tell we tales of Hell,
My Father is gone before me.
Our aged Counsellors would have
us live by Rule and Reason,
'Cause they are marching to the Grave,
and pleasures out of season:
I'le learn to Dance the Mode of France,
that Ladies may adore me,
My thrifty Dad no pleasure had,
Though he was born before me.
I'le to the Court where Venus sport,
doth Revel it in plenty,
I'le deal with all, both great and small,
from twelve to five and twenty:
In Play-houses i'le spend my days,
for they'r hung round with Plackets,
Ladies make room, behold I come,
Have at your KNOCKING Jackestâ–ª
Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, and J. Clarke.