All things be dear but poor mens labour; or, the sad complaint of poor people. Being a true relation of the dearness of all kinds of food, to the great grief and sorrow of many thousands in this nation. Likewise, the uncharitableness of rich men to the poor. This song was begun at Worcester, the middle at Shrewsbury, the end at Coventry. / By L. W. To the tune of, Hold buckle and thong together.
         L. W.
      
       
         
           1680
        
      
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         B06749
         Wing W77A
         ESTC R186106
         52529357
         ocm 52529357
         179218
         
           
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             All things be dear but poor mens labour; or, the sad complaint of poor people. Being a true relation of the dearness of all kinds of food, to the great grief and sorrow of many thousands in this nation. Likewise, the uncharitableness of rich men to the poor. This song was begun at Worcester, the middle at Shrewsbury, the end at Coventry. / By L. W. To the tune of, Hold buckle and thong together.
             L. W.
          
           1 sheet ([2] p.) : ill.
           
             Printed for J. Clark at the Bible and Harp in West-Southfield,
             [London] :
             [1680]
          
           
             In verse.
             Caption title.
             Place and date of publication from Wing.
             In two columns.
             Imperfect: cropped and stained with slight loss of text.
             Reproduction of the original in the Bodleian Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Poor -- England -- 17th century -- Poetry.
           Ballads, English -- 17th century.
           Broadsides -- England -- 17th century.
        
      
    
     
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           All
           things
           be
           dear
           but
           poor
           Mens
           Labour
           ;
           
           Or
           ,
           The
           sad
           Complaint
           of
           Poor
           People
           .
        
         
           
             Being
             a
             true
             Relation
             of
             the
             dearness
             of
             all
             kind
             of
             Food
             ,
             to
             the
             great
             Grief
             and
             Sorrow
             of
             many
             Thousands
             in
             this
             Nation
             .
          
           
             Likewise
             ,
             the
             uncharitableness
             of
             Rich
             Men
             to
             the
             Poor
             .
             This
             Song
             was
             begun
             at
             Worcester
             ,
             the
             midle
             at
             Shrewsbury
             ,
             the
             end
             at
             Coventry
             .
          
        
         
           By
           
             L.
             W.
          
           
        
         
           To
           the
           Tune
           of
           ,
           
             Hold
             Buckle
             and
             Thong
             together
          
           .
        
         
           
        
         
           
             KInd
             Country-men
             lissen
             I
             pray
          
           
             unto
             this
             my
             harmless
             Ditty
             ,
          
           
             Observe
             these
             words
             which
             I
             shall
             say
          
           
             for
             it
             is
             true
             the
             more
             's
             the
             pitty
             ;
          
           
             But
             chief
             to
             those
             that
             stand
             me
             by
             ,
          
           
             whether
             stranger
             ,
             or
             my
             neighbour
          
           
             I
             think
             here
             's
             none
             that
             can
             deny
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               all
               things
               are
               dear
               but
               poor
               man's
               labour
               ,
            
          
        
         
           
             We
             find
             that
             Bread-Corn
             now
             is
             dear
             ,
          
           
             in
             every
             Town
             throughout
             this
             Nation
             ,
          
           
             The
             Rich
             now
             poor
             men
             will
             not
             bear
          
           
             because
             Charity
             's
             out
             of
             fashion
             ,
          
           
             Poor
             men
             do
             work
             all
             day
             and
             night
          
           
             for
             that
             which
             in
             it
             hath
             small
             sauour
          
           
             A
             Loss
             of
             six
             pence
             is
             but
             〈◊〉
             .
          
        
         
           
             
          
        
         
           
             Béef
             and
             Mutton
             is
             so
             dear
          
           
             a
             mans
             weeks
             wages
             cannot
             buy
             it
             ,
          
           
             There
             's
             great
             complaints
             in
             every
             place
             ,
          
           
             all
             things
             are
             dear
             who
             can
             deny
             it
             ,
          
           
             But
             poor
             mens
             labour
             is
             too
             cheap
             ,
          
           
             and
             Trading's
             dead
             which
             makes
             times
             harder
          
           
             That
             all
             their
             pains
             wont
             find
             them
             meat
          
        
         
           
             
               all
               things
               ,
               &c.
            
             
          
        
         
           
             Chéese
             and
             Butter
             is
             so
             dear
          
           
             you
             know
             it
             better
             than
             I
             can
             tell
             ye
          
           
             T
             would
             grieve
             a
             stony
             heart
             to
             hear
          
           
             the
             poor
             complain
             thus
             for
             their
             belly
             .
          
           
             And
             〈…〉
             dead
             ,
          
           
             〈…〉
             t
             find
             them
             bread
          
        
         
           
             
          
        
         
           
        
         
           
        
         
           
        
         
           
        
         
           
        
         
           
             I
             'll
             makes
             my
             very
             heart
             to
             ake
             ,
          
           
             to
             hear
             poor
             people
             thus
             complaining
             ,
          
           
             For
             all
             their
             care
             and
             pains
             they
             take
             ,
          
           
             rich
             men
             the
             poor
             are
             still
             disdaining
             ,
          
           
             But
             let
             Rich
             Misers
             consider
             well
          
           
             the
             poor
             ,
             and
             show
             to
             them
             some
             favour
          
           
             Or
             else
             their
             Souls
             will
             hang
             in
             Hell
             ,
          
        
         
           
             
               all
               things
               ,
               &c.
            
             
          
        
         
           
             In
             it
             not
             sad
             for
             Parents
             now
             ,
          
           
             to
             hear
             their
             Children
             for
             bread
             crying
             ,
          
           
             And
             has
             it
             not
             for
             them
             to
             give
          
           
             although
             for
             food
             they
             lye
             a
             dying
             ,
          
           
             Poor
             little
             Babies
             they
             must
             fast
             ,
          
           
             although
             it
             grieves
             Mother
             and
             Father
             ,
          
           
             A
             bit
             of
             bread
             they
             cannot
             tast
             ,
          
        
         
           
             
               all
               things
               ,
               &c.
            
             
          
        
         
           
             To
             hear
             the
             many
             sad
             Complaints
             ,
          
           
             as
             I
             have
             heard
             in
             Town
             and
             City
             ,
          
           
             I
             think
             youd
             cry
             as
             well
             as
             I
             ,
          
           
             the
             Rich
             has
             for
             the
             Poor
             no
             pitty
          
           
             For
             if
             they
             work
             now
             for
             Rich
             men
             ,
          
           
             there
             's
             some
             will
             kéep
             their
             Wages
             from
             them
          
           
             And
             make
             them
             run
             to
             and
             agen
             ,
          
           
             Which
             makes
             the
             Poor
             cry
             fye
             upon
             them
             .
          
        
         
           
             Farmers
             so
             covetous
             now
             they
             be
             ,
          
           
             their
             Corn
             they
             'l
             hoard
             for
             better
             profit
          
           
             Although
             the
             Poor
             do
             fast
             we
             sée
             ,
          
           
             their
             grain
             they
             'l
             keep
             what
             ere
             comes
             of
             it
          
           
             Whole
             Ricks
             of
             Corn
             stands
             in
             their
             yards
          
           
             and
             scorns
             to
             shew
             the
             Poor
             some
             favour
          
           
             For
             some
             do
             swear
             they
             do
             not
             care
             ,
          
        
         
           
             
               if
               things
               be
               dear
               ,
               but
               poor
               mans
               labour
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             A
             Rich
             man
             there
             was
             in
             Stafford-shire
             ,
          
           
             which
             is
             a
             Knave
             ,
             i
             'me
             sure
             no
             better
          
           
             He
             hop'd
             to
             sell
             his
             Corn
             so
             dear
          
           
             e're
             long
             as
             Grocers
             do
             their
             Pepper
             .
          
           
             When
             Wheat
             was
             sold
             for
             shillings
             ten
          
           
             he
             would
             not
             Thrash
             ,
             Fan
             ,
             nor
             yet
             rake
             it
          
           
             Let
             poor
             despair
             ,
             he
             oft
             did
             swear
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               heed
               keep
               it
               for
               a
               better
               market
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Too
             many
             their
             is
             of
             such
             base
             men
             ,
          
           
             all
             England
             round
             in
             Town
             and
             City
             ,
          
           
             They
             'l
             see
             the
             poor
             starve
             at
             their
             door
          
           
             before
             they
             'l
             shew
             them
             any
             pity
             ;
          
           
             For
             some
             will
             make
             poor
             men
             to
             work
             ,
          
           
             all
             day
             and
             night
             for
             little
             favour
             ,
          
           
             For
             Rich
             men
             be
             ,
             cruel
             we
             see
             ,
          
        
         
           
             
               all
               things
               be
               dear
               but
               poor
               mens
               labour
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             But
             thanks
             to
             God
             '
             Corn
             falls
             apace
             ,
          
           
             and
             all
             things
             else
             that
             's
             for
             the
             belly
             ,
          
           
             Yet
             still
             it
             doth
             go
             bad
             with
             some
          
           
             although
             they
             work
             full
             hard
             I
             tell
             you
             ,
          
           
             Six-pence
             a
             day
             ,
             is
             now
             the
             pay
          
           
             for
             a
             days
             work
             ,
             and
             held
             a
             favour
             ,
          
           
             This
             must
             maintain
             Wife
             and
             Babes
             ,
          
        
         
           
             
               all
               thing
               be
               dear
               ,
               &c.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             So
             to
             conclude
             ,
             le
             ts
             be
             content
          
           
             with
             what
             the
             Lord
             doth
             please
             to
             send
             us
             ,
          
           
             Let
             us
             our
             evil
             lives
             repent
             ,
          
           
             then
             in
             our
             woes
             God
             will
             defend
             us
             :
          
           
             And
             let
             rich
             men
             be
             merciful
          
           
             unto
             the
             poor
             stranger
             or
             neighbour
             ,
          
           
             For
             all
             do
             know
             ,
             unto
             their
             woe
          
        
         
           
             
               all
               things
               be
               dear
               but
               poor
               mens
               labour
               .
            
          
        
      
    
     
       
         
           
             Printed
             for
             
               J
               Clark
            
             at
             the
             Bible
             and
             Harp
             in
             West-smithfield
             .