%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Rich FARMERS Ruine; / VVho Murmured at the Plenty of the Seasons, because he / could not Sell Corn so Dear as his Covetous heart / desired. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1685-1685 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 03/14/2012 31912

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

R227348 1 Why are my Eyes still flowing, As it is play'd on the Violin Why Are My Eyes Still Flowing Why are my Eyes still flowing, As it is played on the Violin A Wealthy Man a farmer, who had Corn great store / Yet he was Cruel always to the Poor; Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 298 The Rich FARMERS Ruine; / VVho Murmured at the Plenty of the Seasons, because he / could not Sell Corn so Dear as his Covetous heart / desired. The Rich FARMERS Ruine; Who Murmured at the Plenty of the Seasons, because he could not Sell Corn so Dear as his Covetous heart desired. The Rich FARMER'S Ruin; Who Murmured at the Plenty of the Seasons, because he could not Sell Corn so Dear as his Covetous heart desired. 1685-1685 J. Back

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 3/14/2012 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America economics/ commerce punishment rural life vice Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 3/14/2012 10:04:02 AM XBallad Kroeze, Kathryn Created XML Version of Ballad 3/14/2012 10:04:02 AM Transcription Supervisor Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/14/2012 10:04:02 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Palmer Browne, Megan Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/14/2012 10:04:02 AM Transcriptionist Two Lee, Jennifer J Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/14/2012 10:04:02 AM Transcriptionist One Persico, Eryn Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/11/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/4/2011 Bibliographer Charlotte Becker Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 2/24/2011 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/24/2011 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/24/2011 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/24/2011 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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A Wealthy Man a Farmer, who had Corn great store Yet he was Cruel always to the Poor; And as the truth of him does very well appear, He thought he ner sold his Corn too dear; As to the Market one day he did go Finding the Prizes of Corn to be low; Sa[i]d he, before I will sell ought of mine, Ile carry it home for to fatten my Swine. In former days, as I can make it well appear, By my own Farm I got hundreds a Year; I sold for Ten the Corn that will not now fetch Five, Is this the way for a Farmer to Thrive?
Yet I will now sell no more at this Price, But am resolved to stay for a Rise: Thus he resolved to hoard up his store, That he might then make a Prey of the Poor. Another Farmer likewise then was standing by, Who when he heard him he thus did reply; You have a Farm and likewise Land, which is your own What cause have you then to make this sad moan? I that have nothing but what I do Rent, With Years of plenty, rejoyce in content: Give him the praise who such plenty does send, Lest when you murmur you highly offend.
Said the Miser, what tho I have got House and Land; Yet I would have you now well understand, I am not free to see the wasting of it all, And after that into Poverty fall: Have we not reason, alas! to Complain, To see the Cheapness of all sorts of Grain? If it continue, as sure as the Sun, I shall be ruind and clearly undone. I, but Neighbour, pray tell me wherefore do you grieve Does not a plenty the poor Men relieve? Here do I find, had you your will in sel[l]ing Grain, Then m[i]ght the Poor soon have cause to complain: For you are cruel, most harsh and severe, And think you can never sell it too dear: Why, says the other, whats poor Men to me? Ile keep my Corn till one Peck will fetch three. Then home he went, and bitterly he did repine, And in his Substance he soon did decline; For he was soon as Poor as any Man alive, For after this he by no means could Thrive: As he was walking one day round his Ground, His House was Robbd of five hundred pound; Yet this was but the beginning of Woe, For in two Years he was brought very low. His Corn did waste, and many of his Cattle dyd, Also great Losses and Crosses beside; Both House and Land through perfect need, at length he sold, Nothing but Ruine he then could behold: Tho all was blasted and clearly decayd, Yet none would pitty him, but thus they said: Seeing the Poor he did thus Circumvent, This is no more then a just Punishment. Like one forlorn and desolate, he then did Roam, Having no Dyet, Apparel, or Home, But his poor Life he ended Lodging in a Barn, From whence all Covetous Farmers may learn, How to give thanks for a Plentiful Year, And not to murmur that Corn is not dear: For those that shall do it most highly offend, Think of this Farmers Unprosperous End.
FINIS. Printed for J. Back, at the Black Boy on London-Bridge; near the Draw-Bridge.