Good people, give ear, whilst a story I tell,
Of twenty black tradesmen who were brought up in hell,
On purpose poor people to rob of their due;
There's none shall be nooz'd if you find but one true. [1]
The first was a coiner, that stampt in a mould;
The second a voucher to put off his gold, [2]
Toure you well; hark you well, see [3]
Where they are rubb'd, [4]
Up to the nubbing cheat where they are nubb'd. [5]


II


The third was a padder, that fell to decay, [6]
Who used for to plunder upon the highway;
The fourth was a mill-ken to crack up a door, [7]
He'd venture to rob both the rich and the poor,
The fifth was a glazier who when he creeps in, [8]
To pinch all the lurry he thinks it no sin. [9]
Toure you well, etc.




III

The sixth is a file-cly that not one cully spares,[10]
The seventh a budge to track softly upstairs; [11]
The eighth is a bulk, that can bulk any hick, [12]