# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 7/A New Song on Wood's Halfpence

This is the sixth of seven poems about William Wood’s proposal for Ireland: 1. Epigram on Wood's Brass Money; 2. A Simile on our Want of Silver; 3. Wood an Insect; 4. On Wood the Ironmonger; 5. Will Wood's Petition; 6. A new Song on Wood's Halfpence; and 7. A serious Poem upon Will Wood.
A NEW SONG ON WOOD'S HALFPENCE.
Come listen with patience, and hear out my ditty: At this time I'll choose to be wiser than witty.
Which nobody can deny.
The halfpence are coming, the nation's undoing, There's an end of your ploughing, and baking, and brewing; In short, you must all go to rack and to ruin.
Which, &c.
Both high men and low men, and thick men and tall men, And rich men and poor men, and free men and thrall men, Will suffer; and this man, and that man, and all men.
Which, &c.
​The soldier is ruin'd, poor man! by his pay; His fivepence will prove but a farthing a day, For meat, or for drink; or he must run away.
Which, &c.
When he pulls out his twopence, the tapster says not, That ten times as much he must pay for his shot; And thus the poor soldier must soon go to pot.
Which, &c.
If he goes to the baker, the baker will huff, And twentypence have for a twopenny loaf, Then, dog, rogue, and rascal, and so kick and cuff.
Which, &c.
Again, to the market whenever he goes, The butcher and soldier must be mortal foes, One cuts off an ear, and the other a nose.
Which, &c.
The butcher is stout, and he values no swagger; A cleaver 's a match any time for a dagger, And a blue sleeve may give such a cuff as may stagger.
Which, &c.
The, beggars themselves will be broke in a trice, When thus their poor farthings are sunk in their price; When nothing is left, they must live on their lice.
Which, &c.
The squire possessed of twelve thousand a year, O Lord! what a mountain his rents would appear! Should he take them, he would not have houseroom, I fear.
Which, &c.
​Though at present he lives in a very large house, There would then not be room in it left for a mouse; But the squire's too wise, he will not take a souse.
Which, &c.
The farmer, who comes with his rent in this cash, For taking these counters, and being so rash, Will be kick'd out of doors, both himself and his trash.
Which, &c.
For, in all the leases that ever we hold, We must pay our rent in good silver and gold, And not in brass tokens of such a base mould.
Which, &c.
The wisest of lawyers all swear, they will warrant No money but silver and gold can be current; And, since they will swear it, we all may be sure on't.
Which, &c.
And I think, after all, it would be very strange, To give current money for base in exchange, Like a fine lady swopping her moles for the mange.
Which, &c.
But read the king's patent, and there you will find, That no man need take them but who has a mind, For which we must say that his Majesty's kind.
Which, &c.
Now God bless the Drapier who open’d our eyes! I'm sure, by his book, that the writer is wise: He shows us the cheat, from the end to the rise.
Which, &c.
Nay, farther he shows it a very hard case, That this fellow Wood, of a very bad race, Should of all the fine gentry of Ireland take place.
Which, &c.
​That he and his halfpence should come to weigh down Our subjects so loyal and true to the crown; But I hope, after all, that they will be his own.
Which, &c.
This book, I do tell you, is writ for your goods, And a very good book 'tis against Mr. Wood's; If you stand true together, he's left in the suds.
Which, &c.
Ye shopmen and tradesmen and farmers, go read it, For I think in my soul at this time that you need it; Or egad, if you don't, there's an end of your credit.
Which nobody can deny.