The Song against Grocers

God made the wicked

For a mystery and a sign,

That men might shun the awful

And go to inns to dine;

Where the bacon's on the

And the wine is in the wood,

And God that made good

Has seen that they are good.

The evil-hearted

Would call his mother "Ma'am,"And bow at her and bob at her,

Her aged soul to damn,

And rub his horrid hands and

What article was

Though

IS IN

Should be her proper text.

His props are not his children,

But pert lads underpaid,

Who call out "Cash!" and bang

To work his wicked trade;

He keeps a lady in a

Most cruelly all day,

And makes her count and calls her "Miss"Until she fades away.

The righteous minds of

Induce them now and

To crack a bottle with a

Or treat unmoneyed men,

But who hath seen the

Treat housemaids to his

Or crack a bottle of fish

Or stand a man a cheese?

He sells us sands of

As sugar for cash down;

He sweeps his shop and sells the

The purest salt in town,

He crams with cans of poisoned

Poor subjects of the King,

And when they die by

Why, he laughs like anything.

The wicked Grocer

In spirits and in wine,

Not frankly and in

As men in inns do dine;

But packed with soap and

And carried off by grooms,

For to be snatched by

And drunk in dressing-rooms.

The hell-instructed

Has a temple made of tin,

And the ruin of good

Is loudly urged therein;

But now the sands are running

From sugar of a sort,

The Grocer trembles; for his time,

Just like his weight, is short.