Folks talk of Supplies
To be rais’d by Excise,
Old CALEB is bloodily nettl’d;
Sure B— has more Sense,
Than to levy new Pence,
Or Troops, when his Peace is quite settl’d.
Horse, Foot, and Dragoons,
Battalions, Platoons,
Excise, Wooden Shoes, and no Jury;
Then Taxes increasing,
While Traffick is ceasing,
Would put all the Land in a Fury.

From whence I conclude,
This is wrong understood,
From his Cradle B— hated Oppression,
And our King Good and Great
Would have us All eat,
Then dread not, good People, next Session.
Horse, &c.

See this Dragon, EXCISE,
Has Ten Thousand Eyes,
And Five Thousand Mouths to devour us,
A Sting and sharp Claws,
With wide-gaping Jaws,
And a Belly as big as a Store-house.
Horse, &c.

This Monster, Plague rot him!
The Pope first begot him,
From Rome to King Lewis he went;
From a Papist so true,
What Good can ensue?
No Wonder he’ll make you keep Lent.
Horse, &c.

From France he flew over,
And landed at Dover,
To swill down your Ale and your Beer;
Now he swears he can’t dine,
Without Sugar and Wine;
Thus he’ll plunder you Year after Year.
Horse, &c.

Grant these, and the Glutton
Will roar out for Mutton,
Your Beef, Bread and Bacon to boot;
Your Goose, Pig, and Pullet,
He’ll thrust down his Gullet,
Whilst the Labourer munches a Root.
Horse, &c.

Besides, ’tis decreed,
The Monster must feed,
Before you sit down to your Dinner:
A Stomach so large
Defray’d at your Charge,
Will make you look thinner and thinner.
Horse, &c.

At first he’ll begin ye
With a Pipe of Virginie,
Then search ev’ry Shop in his Rambles;
If you force him to flee
From the Custom-house Key,
The Monster will lodge in your Shambles.
Horse, &c.

Your Cellars he’ll range,
Your Pantry and Grange,
No Bars can the Monster restrain;
Wherever he comes,
Swords, Trumpets, and Drums,
And Slavery march in his Train.
Horse, &c.

Then sometimes he stoops
To take up the Hoops
Of your Daughters as well as your Barrels:
Tho’ an Army can awe
A Tyler or Straw,
Heav’n keep us from any such Quarrels.
Horse, &c.

Where the Highway-man drops ye,
The Officer stops he,
Poor Tom sees his Waggon unlading:
Good Folks, stuff your Pockets
With Permits and with Cockets,
So you soon will be weary of Trading.
Horse, &c.

Excise is the Scar
Of our late Civil War,
That cut off the Church’s Defender;
To James it gave Hope,
To set up the Pope,
And at last may bring in the Pretender.
Horse, &c.

Look Abroad, and behold
Want, Hunger, and Cold,
Nor the Soil nor the Sun are to blame,
Where the Wretches that Till,
Scarce of Bread have their Fill,
And the Vine-dresser drinks of the Stream.
Horse, &c.

What Sums have we pay’d
For Freedom and Trade!
Religion pay’d well for PROTECTORS!
But this Stock is so spent,
Fall’n Ninety per Cent,
It will scarce pay the Charge of Directors.
Horse, &c.

We pay for our Light,
Both by Day and by Night,
Malt, Salt, Shoes, News, and our Soap:
Oh! spare us, good B—
And drop this new Job,
Or at last we can’t pay for a Rope.
Horse, &c.

Twelve Neighbours, I trow,
’Twixt your Monarch and you
Were wont to determine the Cause;
But no Justice of Peace
Your Goods will release,
When this Monster has laid on his Claws.
Horse, &c.

Ye Landlords so willing
To save the One Shilling,
Ah! how can the Monster deceive ye?
’Tis as clear as the Day,
That threefold you’ll pay,
And take what his Myrmidons leave you.
Horse, &c.

’Tis Trade must support
Town, Country, and Court,
Then ease the poor Weaver and Spinner:
Oh! think, Men of Land,
The Shuttle must stand,
When the Workman pays dear for his Dinner.
Horse, &c.

Behond here the Creature,
Contemplate each Feature,
And if you are charm’d with his Beauty,
Elect his false Tribe,
But hoard up your Bribe,
It will scarce pay the Tenth of your Duty.
Horse, &c.

Our GEORGE, for his Fame sake,
Will behave like his Name-sake,
He came over this Dragon to quell;
Set firm on his Steed
Of true English Breed,
He’ll drive all such Monsters to Hell.
Horse, &c.