A Cock, not very nicely fed,
A Dunghill raker by his Trade,
Whilst scraping in the dirt, had found
A Pearl worth Five and Twenty Pound:
He goes hard by t' a Jeweller,
And like a silly Dog, says Sir,
In yonder Rubbish lay a bit
Of something that in't good to eat,
If you think it will serve your turn,
I'll change it for a grain of Corn.
Nay sometimes Men will do as bad,
I've known a foolish Heir, that had
A Manuscript of Wit and Labour,
Say to a Bookseller his Neighbour,
I've got some Sheets my Uncle writ,
They say he was a Man of Wit,
But Books are things I don't much matter,
A Crown would do my Business better.