You vilest of the human race,
A traitorous fiend with double face;
A fawning sycophant from youth,
Who never spoke a word of truth:
Who shed thy tears like crocodile;
Apparent virtue prov’d all vile:
You ask’d for cash the other day;
And for your coach hire home to pay.
Poor needy wretch I lent you gold,
You in return my credit sold:
But vile ingrate, the world shall know,
You’ve prov’d my base ungenerous foe.
From watchmen who protect the laws,
Did I not screen you from their paws;
Said that at home I soon should be,
Soon as arriv’d you came to me.
Said that you wanted forty pounds,
You stamp’d, and swore, and struck the ground.
Tho’ press’d myself I lent it you,
With blessings on me bade adieu:
’Twas Sunday night that we did part,
I thought ’twas with an honest heart;
You said my brothers here would be,
To lend me aid and set me free:
Instead of brothers, bailiffs came
To caption me and hurt my name.
They had a writ from Mr Blake,
My body into prison take;
Vile wretch you’ll have the public scorn,
To curse the day that you were born:
I’ll publish to the world your knavery,
And write my name the injur’d, Savory.
Interest leads mankind to stray,
From honesty both night and day;
When fortune smiles, friends we do meet,
That greet us kindly in the street;
But when they see us in distress,
You’ll frequent find their number less.
Too well I know this to be true,
And worthy neighbours so do you;
When you can spend a pound-note free,
A clever fellow you will be;
But when your purse is empty grown,
Those compliments from you are flown;
Its not dear sir I wish to see,
You at my house to dine and tea;
Do but just say you’ll to them roam,
They’ll say they cannot be at home.