A Warning to all Lewd Livers.
By the Example of a disobedient Child, who Riotously wasted and consumed his Fathers
and Mothers goods, and also his own, amongst Strumpets and other Lewd Livers, and dyed most miserably on a Dunghill.
The Tune is, Sir And[r]ew Barton.
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MY bleeding heart with grief and care,
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Doth wish all young-men to beware,
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That they no such like steps may tread,
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Nor lead the life which I have led.
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My Father was a Gentleman,
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As many Gallants witness can:
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He had had no Son but only I,
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Which made his Gold and Silver flye.
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When as my Father had me sent
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To sell his goods, or take up rent:
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I did consume and waste the same,
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In drinking, or unlawful Game.
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The Cards and Dice were my delight,
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I haunted Taverns day and night:
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Lewd women were my chiefest joys,
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And my Consorts were Cutpurse boys.
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Gods Holy word I disobey'd,
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I car'd not what the Preacher said:
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For quaffing Cans of Ale and Beer,
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Wa[s] all the Service I would hear.
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Then acting my ungracious part,
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I broke my aged Fathers heart:
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When ghastly Death did on him seize,
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I thought my self in happy case.
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What he had left I thought well got,
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But now the shame falls to my lot:
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Five hundred pound of good red Gold,
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For wine and Beer I quickly sold.
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Then was I prest to serve the King,
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That way might my name honour bring;
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A Souldiers life I held it base,
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And always took it in disgrace.
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And having thus consum'd my store,
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I to my Mother went for more:
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Who sold and Mortgaged her Land,
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And put the money in my hand.
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And then with tears these words she said,
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Thou knowst my Son thy Father's dead[:]
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No more is left but I and thee,
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Therefore dear Son be good to me.
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IF that thy love from me should fall,
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I have no friend on earth at all:
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Therefore good Son to me prove kind,
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And thou reward in Heaven shalt find.
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Then on my bended knees fell I,
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Desiring of the Lord on high:
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A Shameful death might be his end,
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That would his Mother once offend.
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All you that do no reckoning make,
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Of swearing, when your words you speak:
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Give ear to that which I shall tell,
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Lewd Livers seldom dyeth well.
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You Disobedient Children all,
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Draw near and listen to my fall:
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Example take, repent in time,
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Least that your woes be like to mine.
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You Fathers dear, and Mothers kind,
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Bear you this Lesson in your mind:
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Trust not too much a wicked child,
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For oft times men are so beguild.
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When Twigs are green you may them ply,
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But let them grow while they be dry;
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They will so stiff and stubborn stand,
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You cannot bend them with your hand.
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So I that ran a wicked race,
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And to amend had not the grace:
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Sixteen score pound in good red gold,
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Into my hand my mother told.
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But in the compass of one year,
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I spent it all as may appear:
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And having left no means at all,
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I unto Robbing straight did fall.
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Thus did I steal my mothers Rings,
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Her Brass, her Pewter, and such things:
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The very Bed whereon she lay,
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I like a Villian stole away.
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Whatever I could get or take
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I thereof straight did money make:
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My flinty heart did feel no grief,
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To see my Mother want relief.
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At last she grew exceeding poor,
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And beg'd relief from door to door:
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No Infidel, nor Pagan vild,
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Could bring to light so bad a Child.
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At last my Mother lost her breath,
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As she constrained was by death:
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Who yields relief when friends grow scant,
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And ease to them that are in want.
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From place to place then was I tost,
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By every man and woman crost:
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No harbour could I get, whereby
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I might at night in safeguard lye.
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My dearest Kinsfolks do me chide,
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My dearest friends can't me abide:
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Those were my consorts of late,
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Their love is turned into hate.
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Those that have feasted many a time,
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And fed upon that which was mine:
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Dispise at me along the street,
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As if they should a Serpent meet.
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Both old and young, both great and small,
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Both Rich and poor despise me all:
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No friend to take my part have I,
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But was constrain'd in fields to lye.
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In this my extream misery,
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My grief and my necessity:
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No creature gave for my relief,
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One piece of bread to ease my grief.
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But like a poor despised wretch,
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His latest gasp that he did fetch,
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Was on a Dung-hill in the Night,
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When as no creature was in sight.
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But in the morning he was found,
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As cold as clay upon the ground:
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Thus was he born in shame to dye,
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And end his days in Misery.
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Take warning young men by this vice,
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Learn to avoid the Cards and Dice:
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Lewd womens company now forbear,
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They are the high-way unto care.
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All Parents whilst your Babes be young,
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Look to their ways in hand and tongue:
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Then wickedness will not abound,
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But grace in Children will be found.
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