Alack-a-day! on life's uncertain road How many plagues, what evils must befal;-- Jove has on none unmingled bliss bestow'd, But disappointment is the lot of all: Thieves rob our stores, in spite of locks and keys, Cats steal our cream, and rats infest our cheese, The gayest coat a grease-spot may assail, Or Susan pin a dish-clout to its tail,-- Our village-merchant (trust me) had his share Of vile mis-haps--for now, the goods unpackt, Discover'd, what might make a deacon swear, Jugs, cream-pots, pipes, and grog-bowls sadly crackt-- A general groan throughout the crowd was heard; Most pitied him, and some his ruin fear'd; Poor wight! 'twas sad to see him fret and chafe, While each enquir'd, "Sir, is the rum-cask safe?" Alas! even that some mischief had endured;-- One rascal hoop had started near the chine!-- Then curiously the bung-hole they explored, With stem of pipe, the leakage to define-- Five gallons must be charged to loss and gain!-- "--Five gallons! (cry'd the merchant, writh'd with pain) "Now may the cooper never see full flask, "But still be driving at an empty cask-- "Five gallons might have mellowed down the 'squire "And made the captain strut a full inch higher; "Five gallons might have prompted many a song, "And made a frolic more than five days long: "Five gallons now are lost, and--sad to think, "That when they leak'd--no soul was there to drink!" Now, slightly treated with a proof-glass dram, Each neighbour took his leave, and went to bed, All but our merchant: he, with grief o'ercome, Revolv'd strange notions in his scheming head-- "For losses such as these, (thought he) 'tis meant, "That goods are sold at twenty-five per cent: "No doubt these trading men know what is just, "'Tis twenty-five times what they cost at first!" So rigging off his shelves by light of candle, The dismal smoke-house walls began to shine: Here, stood his tea-pots--some without a handle-- A broken jar--and there his keg of wine; Pipes, many a dozen, ordered in a row; Jugs, mugs, and grog-bowls--less for sale than show: The leaky cask, replenish'd from the well, Roll'd to its birth--but we no tales will tell.-- Catching the eye in elegant display, All was arranged and snug, by break of day: The blue dram-bottle, on the counter plac'd, Stood, all prepared for him that buys to taste;-- Sure bait! by which the man of cash is taken, As rats are caught by cheese or scraps of bacon. Now from all parts the rural people ran, With ready cash, to buy what might be bought: One went to choose a pot, and one a pan, And they that had no pence their produce brought, A hog, a calf, safe halter'd by the neck; Potatoes (Ireland's glory) many a peck; Bacon and cheese, of real value more Than India's gems, or all Potosi's ore. Some questions ask'd, the folks began to stare-- No soul would purchase, pipe, or pot, or pan: