Classic Poem

I
Brocadós and Damasks, and Tabbies, and Gawzes,
Are, by Robert Ballentine, lately brought over,
With Forty Things more: now hear what the Law says,
Whoe'er will not wear them is not the King's Lover.
Though a Printer and Dean
Seditiously mean
Our true Irish hearts from old England to wean;
We'll buy English Silks for our Wives and our Daughters,
In Spight of his Deanship and Journeyman Waters.
II

In England the dead in Woollen are clad,
The Dean and his Printer then let us cry Fye on;
To be cloath'd like a Carcass would make a Teague mad,
Since a living Dog better is than a dead Lyon.
Our Wives they grow sullen
At wearing of Woollen,
And all we poor Shopkeepers must our Horns pull in.
Then we'll buy English Silks, & c.
III

Whoever our Trading with England would hinder,
To inflame both the Nations do plainly conspire,
Because Irish Linen will soon turn to Tinder,
And Wool it is greasy, and quickly takes Fire.
Therefore I assure ye,
Our noble Grand Jury,
When they saw the Dean's Book they were in a great Fury;
They would buy English silks for their Wives, & c.
IV

This wicked Rogue Waters, who always is sinning,
And before Corum nobus so oft has been call'd,
Henceforward shall print neither Pamphlets nor Linnen,
And if Swearing can do't, shall be swingingly maul'd:
And as for the Dean,
You know whom I mean,
If the Printer will preach him, he'll scarce come off clean.
Then we'll buy English Silks for our Wives and our Daughters,
In Spight of his Deanship and Journeyman Waters.