WILL CHIP'S TRUE RIGHTS OF MAN.
That some must be poorer, this truth I will sing,
Is a law of my Maker, and not of my king.
And the true Rights of Man, and the life of his cause,
Is not equal POSSESSIONS, but equal, just Laws.
If accus'd, I am tried to my peers I appeal;
Not smuggled, unheard, to some dismal Bastile.
Nor, like the new French, popp'd off to Cayenne,
Without any chance to be heard of again.
If I'm wrong, to the laws I am bound to submit;
If I'm right, O how glad are those laws to acquit !
If the right to correct to my judges belong,
I've a right to avoid it by doing no wrong.
If sickness o'ertake me, the laws of the land
Hold out to my wants a compassionate hand:
Should some churlish churchwarden presume to op-
press,
At the next Justice-meeting, I straight get redress.
If I scrape up but forty good shillings a year,
I help govern the land, as I'll make it appear;
For the makers of laws, my brave lads, do ye see,
Are elected by folks not much richer than me.
From the parliament man, if he prove a turn-coat,
I've a right to withhold, as to give him my vote;
And if British laws I'm oblig'd to respect,
Those laws, in return, will my substance protect.
As long as I work I've a right to full pay,
I've a right to my Bible, to read and to pray;
Then I'll pray with such fervour and fight with such
As if the whole contest depended on me.
Equal rights, equal freedom all Britons possess,
The richest not more, and the poorest not less,
But all rights have their bounds, for the right to do
evil
Is no rights of man, but the rights of the devil!
Then away with contention, no other we'll know
But who'll have the honour to strike the first blow;
And let each true Briton join chorus with me,
We'll die with the brave, or we'll live with the free.
OR, THE WAY TO GET A GOOD FARE.
To the Tune of " I wish I was a Fisherman."
I AM a bold Coachman, and drive a good Hack,
With a coat of five capes that quite covers my back;
And my wife keeps a sausage-shop, not many miles
From the narrowest alley in all Broad St. Giles.
Though poor, we are honest and very content,
We pay as we go for meat, drink, and for rent;
To work all the week I am able and willing,
I never get drunk, and I waste not a shilling.
And while at a tavern my gentleman tarries,
The Coachman grows richer than he whom he carries;
And I'd rather (said I), since it saves me from sin,
Be the driver without, than the toper within.
Yet though dram-shops I hate, and the dram-drinking friend,
I'm not quite so good but I wish I may mend;
I repent of my sins, since we all are depraved,
For a coachman, I hold, has a soul to be saved.
When a riotous multitude fills up a street,
And the greater part know not, boys, wherefore they meet;
If I see there is mischief, I never go there,
Let others get tipsy so I get my fare.
Now to church, if I take some good lady to pray,
It grieves me full sore to be kept quite away;
So I step within side, though the sermon's begun,
For a slice of the service is better than none.
Then my glasses are whole, and my coach is so neat,
I am always the first to be call'd in the street;
And I'm known by the name ('tis a name rather rare)
Of the Coachman that never asks more than his fare.
Though my beasts should be dull, yet I don't use them ill;
Though they stumble I swear not, nor cut them up hill; For I firmly believe there's no charm in an oath That can make a nag trot, when to walk he is loath.
And though I'm a Coachman, I'll freely confess,
I beg of my Maker my labours to bless;
I praise Him each morning, and pray ev'ry night,
And 'tis this makes my heart feel so cheerful and light.
When I drive to a fun'ral I care not for drink;
That is not the moment to guzzle, but think;
And I wish I could add both of Coachman and Master,
That both of us strove to amend a bit faster.
OR, THE NEWCASTLE COLLIER.
HAVE you heard of a Collier of honest renown,
Who dwelt on the borders of Newcastle town?
His name it was Joseph - you better may know
If I tell you he always was called Patient JOE.
What ever betided, he thought it was right,
And Providence still he kept ever in sight;
To those who love GOD, let things turn as they would,
He was certain that all work'd together for good.
He prais'd his Creator whatever befell;
How thankful was Joseph when matters went well!
How sincere were his carols of praise for good health,
And how grateful for any increase in his wealth!
In trouble he bow'd him to God's holy will;
How contented was Joseph when matters went ill!
When rich and when poor he alike understood
That all things together were working for good.
If the land was afflicted with war, he declar'd,
'Twas a needful correction for sins which he shar'd:
And when merciful Heaven bade slaughter to cease,
How thankful was Joe for the blessing of peace!
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