Against Wood'S Halfpence To The Tune Of "London Is A Fine Town," & C. O Dublin Is A Fine Town And A Gallant City, For Wood'S Trash Is Tumbled Down, Come Listen To My Ditty, O Dublin Is A Fine Town, & C. In Full Assembly All Did Meet Of Every Corporation, From Every Lane And Every Street, To Save The Sinking Nation. O Dublin, & C. The Bankers Would Not Let It Pass For To Be Wood'S Tellers, Instead Of Gold To Count His Brass, And Fill Their Small-Beer Cellars. O Dublin, & C. And Next To Them, To Take His Coin The Gild Would Not Submit, They All Did Go, And All Did Join, And So Their Names They Writ. O Dublin, & C. The Brewers Met Within Their Hall, And Spoke In Lofty Strains, These Halfpence Shall Not Pass At All, They Want So Many Grains. O Dublin, & C. The Tailors Came Upon This Pinch, And Wish'D The Dog In Hell, Should We Give This Same Wood An Inch, We Know he'd Take An Ell. O Dublin, & C. But Now The Noble Clothiers Of Honour And Renown, If They Take Wood'S Halfpence They Will Be All Cast Down. O Dublin, & C. The Shoemakers Came On The Next, And Said They Would Much Rather, Than Be By Wood'S Copper Vext, Take Money Stampt On Leather. O Dublin, & C. The Chandlers Next In Order Came, And What They Said Was Right, They Hoped The Rogue That Laid The Scheme Would Soon Be Brought To Light. O Dublin, & C. And That If Wood Were Now Withstood, To His Eternal Scandal, That Twenty Of These Halfpence Should Not Buy A Farthing Candle. O Dublin, & C. The Butchers Then, Those Men So Brave, Spoke Thus, And With A Frown; Should Wood, That Cunning Scoundrel Knave, Come Here, We'd Knock Him Down. O Dublin, & C. For Any Rogue That Comes To Truck And Trick Away Our Trade, Deserves Not Only To Be Stuck, But Also To Be Flay'D. O Dublin, & C. The Bakers In A Ferment Were, And Wisely Shook Their Head; Should These Brass Tokens Once Come Here We'd All Have Lost Our Bread. O Dublin, & C. It Set The Very Tinkers Mad, The Baseness Of The Metal, Because, They Said, It Was So Bad It Would Not Mend A Kettle. O Dublin, & C. The Carpenters And Joiners Stood Confounded In A Maze, They Seem'D To Be All In A Wood, And So They Went Their Ways. O Dublin, & C. This Coin How Well Could We Employ It In Raising Of A Statue, To Those Brave Men That Would Destroy It, And Then, Old Wood, Have At You. O Dublin, & C. God Prosper Long Our Tradesmen Then, And So He Will I Hope, May They Be Still Such Honest Men, When Wood Has Got A Rope. O Dublin Is A Fine Town, & C.