Joe Ferguson, Chicago Inspector General, be a genteel man of Old World manners and sensibilities; however, a man taxed by the fiscal insensibilities that dominate Progressive Nodders like Alderman Joe Moore must act.
Payrolled Pretend Grannies are fixed into Chicago's Budget!
Wilco Concerts for more CPS Taxes!
Salaries and Pensions for Brahmins!
Cultural & Diversity Affairs All Year!
Pandering Via Race Giveaways! Free Back to Skool Buskins for the Bairns!
Forrest Claypool!
Chicago can not do without these! Stand and Deliver! On the Lakeshore! On Untolled Highways! Swag and Plunder for the Lord Mayor!
Lay off the Watch (cops), the Bucketeers (firemen) the Varlets and Louts ( Ward-bound Vassels and Laborers)!
Lay on with Sword and Cutlass! Thunder Blunderuss and Pistol Brace! Stand and Deliver! Give Over!
Who 'neath the gloom of October's looming lowering clouds dons the mask of Taker General; spreads the wealth? Joe Ferguson's Dragoons?
Nay, he NOW bee Captain Rakehell and his Revenue Riders - MossTroopers and Tax Preying Embargo Agents of the Lord Mayor.
Captain Rakehell Gives Fair Warning!
"Citzens and small purses, give ear! This lesson shall you learn. Healths and Bon Peres, My Lord Mayor's task is to tax you!
Give ears on this lesson and favor redistribution of wealth!
There be in this City a Master Peril there in the City Office of Budget. This Worthie had a great lusty man-servant, but, as appears by the sequell of the discourse, not of very much witt.
About two months ago, there comes a maggot into his head to turn padder upon the highway; so he acquaints his master with his resolution.
“Master,” says he, “I have been two years in your service, and what I get is inconsiderable, and will scarce suffice my expenses; and I work very hard. I fancy,” says he, “that I could find out a better way to live, and by which I should have more ease and more money.”
“Ey,” says his master, “pray what is that?”
“It is,” says he, “by turning padder.”
“Alass! John,” says he, “that will not do; take my word,” says he, “you’ll find that a harder service than mine.”
“Well, but I’ll try,” says the man.
And so, next morning, away he went, with a good clubb in his hand; and being got in the Lake Shore Road, somewhere about Grand or Randolph, there overtook him on the road a genteel man on horseback, as foreign borne gas is too dear a fuell.
John letts him come up to him, and taking his advantage, he catches hold of his briddle, and bidds him stand and deliver.
Upon which he un-whealed, being a highwayman himself, he began to laugh that a thief should pretend to rob a thief.
“But,” says he, “harken, thou padder, I’m one of thy trade; but surely, thou’rt either a fool or one that was never at the trade before.”
“No sir,” says John, “I never was at this trade in my life before.”
“I thought so,” says the genteel highwayman; “therefore, take my advice, and mind what I say to you. When you have a mind to robb a man, never take hold of his briddle and bid him stand, but, the first thing you do, knock him down, and, if he talk to you, hit him another stroke, and say, ‘Sirrah! you rogue, do you prate?’
And then,” says the highwayman, “you have him at your will,” etc.
Thus they walk’d on for about a mile, the highwayman teaching the other his art; and as they were going a by way to a certain vicinity - Bridporte, they comes to a badd lane.
Says the padder to the other on horsback “Sir, I am better acquainted with this country than perhaps you are, this lane is very badd, and you’ll indanger [of] lying fast, therefore you may go through this yate, and along the field side, and so miss all the ill way.”
So he took his advice, and going that way the padder went the other way, and coming to the place where the highwayman should ride through a gapp into the lane again, this rogue, this padder, stands under the hedge, and as soon as ever he sees the highwayman near him, he lends him such a knock over the head that he brought him down immediately.
Upon which he began to say, “Sarrah, you rogue, is this your gratitude for the good advice that I gave you?”
“Ah! you villain, do you prate?”
And with that gave him another knock. And so, having him wholy at his mercy, he takes almost a yard ($100) from him and gets upon his horse, and away he rides home to his master at Budget, by another way, as fast as he could go, and being got home he goes to his master and tell’s him, saying — “Tash! master, I find this a very hard trade that I have been about, as you sayd it would prove, and I am resolved to go no more, but be contented with what I have gott. I have got a good horse here, and a yard in my pocket, from a highwayman, and I have consider’d that I cannot be prosecuted for it, therefore I’ll live at ease,” etc.
At Which, Master Perill drew a brace of cap'n ball pistolles from 'neath his westkit and coat -" Stand and Deliver, Lout! The Lord Mayor's Swag You Hold! Give over, John, or a Ball in your Brainpan!"
Stand and Deliver, Chicago!
. . .and like it.
Notes:
1.padder: footpad, mugger.
3.yate: gate; northern dialect form
Yarn taken from The Diary of Abraham de la Pryme, (Durham, Surtees Society, 1870), pp. 76–77
December 1695
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