The Bankrupt; Or, Advice to the Insolvent. / A Poem, addressed to a friend, with other pieces

Transcribed from the 1806 S. Kitton edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org. Many thanks to Norfolk and Norwich Millennium Library, UK, for kindly supplying the images from which this transcription was made.
ADVICE TO THE INSOLVENT ,
A POEM,
addressed to a friend:
with
OTHER PIECES.
BY JAMES PARKERSON , Jun. late of yarmouth.
norwich : printed and sold for the author by s. kitton, white-lion-lane; sold also by crosby and co. london; keymer, yarmouth: and all other booksellers.
price one shilling. 1806.
Oft have you pray’d me, when in youth, Never to err from paths of truth; But youth to vice is much too prone, And mine by far too much, I own. Induced to riot, swear, and game, I thought in vice t’acquire a fame; But found the pois’ning scenes of riot Soon robb’d my mind of joy and quiet. The usual course of rakes I ran, The dupe of woman and of man. Careless of fortune’s smile or frown, My desk I left t’enjoy the town, At folly dash’d in wisdom’s spite, Idled by day, revell’d by night:
But short was the delusive scene, And I awoke to sorrow keen. Debt press’d on debt: I could not pay, And found that credit had its day. No friend to aid, what should I do? I made bad worse: to liquor flew: For when my bill-book I survey’d, I shrunk, as if I’d seen my shade; And to drive terror from my mind, Drank on, and care gave to the wind: But wine nor words can charm away The banker’s clerk who comes for pay. Payment is press’d, the cash is gone: Too late I cry, ‘What must be done?’ Horror! a docket struck appears: I look aghast, my wife’s in tears. The naked truth now stares me in the face, And shows me more than one disgrace. My keys a messenger demands; While, as a culprit often stands, The humbled bankrupt lowers his view, And sees the law its work pursue. Soon comes of all his goods the sale, Which, like light straw before a gale,
The hammer-man puffs clean away, And cries, ‘They must be sold this day.’ They are so, and I’ll tell you how: At loss you’ll readily allow. Then comes the tedious, humbling task, To answer all commiss’ners ask; And those who mean to act most fair Will at first meeting e’er appear, To questions ask’d will answer true, And clearly state accounts to view. A second he need not attend, But if not may perhaps offend. Happy the man who then can lay His hand upon his heart, and say, ‘You all my books and deeds may scan: I’m honest, though distressed man. My own just wants, and losses great, Have brought me to this low estate.’ Then comes the last dread meeting on, Dreadful to such as will act wrong, And through dishonesty or shame Evasive answers ’tempt to frame: For vain his shifts; howe’er he try, He can’t elude the searching eye Of lawyers, who’ll in all things pry: