Now three jolly blades with a sing-song we'll crown,
Who made a gay figure in Birmingham town.
We'll tell how much money they each of them made,
And then, if you please, you may follow their trade.

One of these could engrave without making a noise;
Another succeeded in making of toys;
But toys and engraving appear but a joke;
We'll find out a better, or have our head broke.

At the tavern our heroes dispute o'er the pot,
At which of their trades was the most money got;
For in all our contentions 'tis usually known,
A man speaks his best in support of his own.

The Engraver declar'd it was well in his power
To earn with his fingers three shillings an hour.
'A trifle!' says Palmer, 'I'll lay you a crown,
I'll pick up more money by begging in town.'

'And I'll lay a crown,' says the toyman, and drew,
'That I get more money than either of you,
By singing of ballads in Birmingham Street.
He that wins, like the Pope, shall have three crown 'compleat.'

They farther agreed, that on Saturday night,
From seven to nine, each should try all his might;
Like a Courtier, a Breslau, no fear of detection,
Try which of them best could succeed by deception.

His tools the Engraver collected in hand;
The beggar perceiv'd there was no time to stand,
So he blufted an eye, and he tuck'd up a leg,
And like other beggars he set out to beg.

One crutch, and one leg, were expos'd to the view;
Then who can deny that he stood upon two?
But he was appriz'd, though you could not observe,
That, in case of assault, he had one in reserve.

His opponents the laurel must certainly yield,
When he, with three legs, was equipp'd for the field;
For who could be better prepar'd for a fray?
With one he could fight, or with two run away.

Brown walnut, black eye-brows, the shrewd toyman seeks,
And cover'd his chin with the growth of six weeks;
A few quires of ballads his hand did not lack,
Nor patches nor rags did the coat on his back.

The singer sung sweet, and the beggar bawl'd loud,
As beggars and singers when fleecing the crowd;
And like every beggar, and like every singer;
They laugh at the people whose money they finger.

When our three contenders two hours had gone through,
In graving and begging and Sol-faing too,
'Twas needful to state all their profit amounts,
So retreat to the tavern and settle accounts.

Seven and four-pence th' Engraver before them both spread,
And till some one oppos'd him was that much a-head;
But the Beggar immediately open'd his store,
And with eight and eleven-pence soon did him o'er.

The last gave a smile, and the Engraver a frown,
But the sweet singer instantly brought them both down;
For exclusive of capital, he by fair trade
Ten shillings and sixpence two farthings had made.

From henceforth, good people, the graver throw by,
And if you've ambition to climb pretty high,
You may traverse through begging, resume limbs and eyes,
And probably up to a ballad may rise.