"For first I came to Houns-Ditch, then round about I creep, Where cruelty was crowned chief and pity fast asleep: Where usury gets profit, and brokers bear the bell. Oh, fie upon this deadly sin! it sinks the soul to hell.
"The man that sweeps the chimneys with the bush of thorns, And on his neck a trusse of poles tipped all with horns, With care he is not cumbered, he liveth not in dread? For though he wear them on his pole, some wear them on their head.
"The landlord with his racking rents turns poor men out of dore; Their children go a begging where they have spent their store. I hope none is offended with that which is endited If any be, let him go home and take a pen and write it.
"Buy a trap, a mouse trap, a torment for fleas! The hangman works but half the day; he lives too much at ease. Come let us leave this boyes play and idle prittle prat, And let us go to nine holes, to spurn-point, or to cat.
"Oh! you nimble fingered lads that live upon your wits, Take heed of Tyburn ague, for they be dangerous fits; For many a proper man, for to supply his lack, Doth leap a leap at Tyburn, which makes his neck to crack.
"And to him that writ this song I give this simple lot: Let every one be ready to give him half a pot. And thus I do conclude, wishing both health and peace To those that are laid in their bed, and cannot sleep for fleas. W. TURNER"
The "tink, terry tink" of the Tinker's "Cry" is preserved in a Miscellany of the year 1667, called "_Catch that Catch Can; or, the Musical Champion_."
"Have you any work for a tinker, mistriss? Old brass, old pots, or kettles? I'll mend them all with a tink, terry tink, And never hurt your mettles. First let me have but a touch of your ale, 'Twill steel me against cold weather, Or tinkers frees, Or vintners lees, Or tobacco chuse you whether. But of your ale, Your nappy ale, I would I had a ferkin, For I am old And very cold And never wear a jerkin."
The tinker's "Cry" forms the opening lines of "Clout the Cauldron," one of the best of our old Scottish songs:--
"'Hae ye ony pots or pans, Or any broken chanlers,' I am a tinker to my trade, And newly come from Flanders."
But the song is so well known to all who take an interest in our northern minstrelsy, and is to be found, moreover, in every good collection of Scottish Songs, that it is enough to refer to it.