A true character of sundry trades and callings: or, A new ditty of innocent mirth. This song is new, and perfect true, there's none can this deny; for I am known, friend, to be one that scorns to tell a lye. To the tune of, Old Simon the King. This may be printed, R.P. 1685 Approx. 5 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B06224 Wing T2603B Interim Tract Supplement Guide EBB65H[108] 99887314 ocm99887314 182025

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B06224) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 182025) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A2:4[108]) A true character of sundry trades and callings: or, A new ditty of innocent mirth. This song is new, and perfect true, there's none can this deny; for I am known, friend, to be one that scorns to tell a lye. To the tune of, Old Simon the King. This may be printed, R.P. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. (woodcuts). Printed for P[hilip]. Brooksby, at the Golden-Ball in Pye-corner., [London] : [1685] Verse: "Now gentlemen sit you all merry ..." Place, date of publication and publisher's name from Wing. Reproduction of original in the Harvard University, Houghton Library.

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 eng Broadsides -- England -- London -- Early works to 1800. English wit and humor -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Ballads -- England -- 17th century. 2008-02 Assigned for keying and markup 2008-03 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-04 Sampled and proofread 2008-04 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
A True CHARACTER OF Sundry Trades and Callings: OR, A New ditty of Innocent Mirth. This Song is New, and perfect True, there's none can this deny; For I am known, Friend, to be one that ſcorns to tell a Lye. To the Tune of, Old Simon the KING.

This may be Printed,

R. P.

Now Gentlemen ſit you all merry, I'll ſing you a Song of a Want, Til make you as merry as may be, though Monies begin to grow ſcant: A Woman without e're a Tongue, ſhe never can ſcold very fond; 'Tis juſt ſuch another great Want, when the Fidler wants his Crowd: Good People I tell unto you, theſe Lines they are abſolute new, For I hate and diſpiſe the telling of Lies, this Ditty is merry and true. A Ship that's without e're a Sail, may be driven the Lord knows whither; 'Tis juſt ſuch another ſad Want, as the Shoe-maker wants his Leather: A Man that has got but one Legg, will make but a pittiful Runner, And he that has no Eyes in his Head, will make but a ſorowful Gunner: Good People I tell unto you, theſe Lines they are abſolute new, For I hate and diſpiſe the telling of Lies, this Ditty is merry and true. A Doctor without any Stomach, will make but a pittyful Dinner, And he that has got no Victuals to eat, will quickly look thinner and thinner: A Bell without tever a Clapper, will make but ſorrowful Sound, And he that has no Land of his own, may work on another Man's Ground: Good People I tell unto you, theſe lines they are abſolute new, For I hate and deſpiſe the telling of Lies, this Ditty is merry and true. A Black-ſmith without his Bellows, he need not to riſe very ſoon, And he that has no Cloaths to put on, may lye in his Bed till noon: An Inn-keeper without any Cuſtom, will never get ſtore of Wealth, And if he has ne'r a Sign to hang up, he may e'ne go hang up himſelf: Good people, &c. A Miller without any Stones, he is but a ſorrowful Soul, And if that he has no Corn to grind, he need not ſtand taking of Toll: The Taylor we know he is loath to take any Cabbidge at all, If he has no Silk, Stuff or Cloath, to do that good Office withal. Good People, &c. A Woman without e're a Fault, ſhe like a bright Star will appear; But a Brewer without any Mault, will make but pittiful Beer: A Man that has got but one Shirt, when e're it is waſht for his hide, I hope it can't be no great hurt, to lye in his Bed till 'tis dry'd, Good People, &c. A Mountebank without his Fools, and a Skip-kennel turn'd out of Place, A Tinker without any Tools, they are all in a ſorrowful caſe: You know that a Diſh of good Meat, it is the true Stay of Man's Life, But he that has nothing to eat, he need not to draw out his Knife. Good People, &c. A Pedler without e're a Stock, it makes him look pittiful blew; A Shepherd without e'er a Flock; has little or nothing to do: A Farmer without any Corn, he neither can give, ſell or lend; A Huntſman without e'er a Horn, his Wife ſhe muſt ſtand his good Friend, Good People, &c. A Plow-man that has ne'er a Plow, I think may live at his eaſe; A Dairy without e're a Cow, will make but had Butter and Cheeſe▪ A Man that is pittiful poor, has little or nothing to looſe; And he that has never a Foot, it ſaves him the buying of Shooes. Good People, &c. A Warren without e'er a Coney, is barren, and ſo much the worſe; And he that is qute without Money, can have no great need of a Purſe. I hope there is none is this place, that now is diſpaleas'd with his Song, Come buy up my Ballads apace, and i'll pack up my awls and be gone. Good People I tell unto you, theſe Lines they are abſolute new, For I hate and diſpiſe the telling of Lies, this Ditty is merry and true.

Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in Pye-Corner.