BALLAD. (A tinker I am)

A tinker I am, My name's Natty Sam, From morn to night I trudge it; So low is my fate, My personal estate Lies all within this budget.

Work for the tinker ho! good wives, For they are lads of mettle— 'Twere well if you could mend your lives As I can mend a kettle.

The man of war, The man of the bar, Physicians, priests, free-thinkers, That rove up and down Great London town, What are they all but tinkers?

Work for the tinker, &c.

Those 'mong the great Who tinker the state, And badger the minority, Pray what's the end Of their work, my friend, But to rivet a good majority.

Work for the tinker, &c.

This mends his name That cobbles his fame, That tinkers his reputation: And thus, had I time, I could prove, in my rhyme, Jolly tinkers of all the nation.

Work for the tinker, &c.