When Late I wander'd/When the Wars are all o'er
When the Wars are all o'er.
As I was travelling th' country up and down,
At length I arrived at a little market town
Where the drums were a beating for ſoldiers I'm ſure,
Which made me conclude that the wars were not o'er.
O but in came the barber with baſon and ball.
Baying, Do you want to be ſhav'd kind gentlemen all,
But the people wear their old wigs, they're all turn'd ſo poor,
And they can't get thəm dreſt till the wars are bli o'er.
O then in came the taylor, and this he did ſay,
They have lower'd all our wages to ſixpence a-day:
For the people wear their old clothes they're now turn'd ſo poor.
They can't afford new ones till the wars are all o'er.
O then in came the tanner, and this he did ſay,
I've truſted my leather to a ſhoe-maker to day,
He is gone for a ſoldier, which grieves me full ſore;
And he can't pay my leather, till th' wars are all o'er.
O but in came the blackſmith, whoſe trade's worſt of all,
He's pledg'd his bed from under him for whiſky & ale
And he's ta'en up his lodging on the cold floor,
Ad there he must remain till the wars are all o'er.
O but in came the lanlady, ſo meek and ſo fine,
With ruffles at her hands, and thus ſhe did begin,
I have truſted all my ale upon an ill ſcore,
And can't day the maltman till the wars are all o'er.
But in came the devil with a malt-ſack on his back,
At the ending of my ſong, and filling of the pack
And he's carried of the landlady, on an old ſcore,
And ſaid he'd return her when the wars were all o'er.