[]CHEAP REPOSITORY. THE HACKNEY COACHMAN; OR, The Way to get a good Fare. To the Tune of "I wiſh I was a Fiſherman," &c.
[figure]
Sold by J. MARSHALL, (Printer to the CHEAP REPOSITORY for Religi⯑ous and Moral Tracts) No. 17, Queen-Street, Cheapſide, and No. 4, Aldermary Church-Yard, and R. WHITE, Piccadilly, LONDON.
By S. HAZARD, at Bath, and by all Bookſellers, Newſmen, and Hawkers, in Town and Country. Great Allowance will be made to Shopkeepers and Hawkers.
PRICE ONE HALFPENNY. Or, 2s. 3d. per 100—1s. 3d. for 50.—9d. for 25. [Entered at Stationers' Hall.]
THE HACKNEY COACHMAN; OR, The Way to get a good Fare.
[3]I.
I AM a bold Coachman and drive a good Hack,
With a coat of five capes that quite covers my back;
And my wife keeps a ſauſage-ſhop not many miles
From the narroweſt alley in all Broad St. Giles.
[4] Tho' poor we are honeſt and very content,
We pay as we go for meat, drink, and for rent;
To work all the week I am able and willing,
I never get drunk, and I waſte not a ſhilling.
III.
What tho' at a tavern my gentleman tarries,
Why the coachman grows richer than he whom he carries;
And I'd rather (ſay I) ſince it ſaves me from ſin,
Be the Driver without than the Toper within.
IV.
For the dram-ſhop I hate and the dram-drinking friend,
Yet I'm not quite ſo good but I wiſh I may mend;
I repent of my ſins ſince we all are deprav'd,
For a Coachman, I hold, has a ſoul to be ſav'd.
V.
When a riotous multitude fills up a ſtreet,
And the greater part know not, boys, wherefore they meet;
[5] If I ſee there is miſchief I never go there,
Let others get tipſy, ſo I get my fare.
VI.
Now to church if I take ſome good lady to pray,
It grieves me full ſore to be kept quite away;
So I ſtep thro' the door-way, for here 'tis the ſin,
To loiter without when one might enter in.
VII.
Then my glaſſes are whole, and my coach is ſo neat,
I am always the firſt to be call'd in the ſtreet;
And I'm known by the name ('tis a name rather rare)
Of the Coachman that never aſks more than his fare.
VIII.
Tho' my beaſts ſhould be dull yet I don't uſe them ill;
Tho' they ſtumble I ſwear not, nor cut them up hill;
For I firmly believe there's no charm in an oath
That can make a Nag trot when to walk he is loth.
[6]IX.
And tho' I'm a Coachman, I'll freely confeſs,
I beg of my Maker my labors to bleſs;
I praiſe him each morning, and pray every night,
And 'tis this makes my heart feel ſo cheerful and light.
X.
When I drive to a Fun'ral I care not for drink,
That is not the moment to guzzle, but think;
And I wiſh I cou'd add both of Coachman and Maſter,
That both of us ſtrove to amend a bit faſter.
Z.
THE END.