The Childrens Cryes
Against
Their Barbarous & Cruel Father,
BEING
A Relation of a most inhumane Act committed by a Grave-
maker of Marybone, upon his own Children, by endeavouring to Drown them; and like-
wise a strange Boy, whom he flung in a Pond that is about two Fields from Marybone, on
Monday the 25th. of May, 1696. and of his being siezed and sent to Prison.
To the Tune of, You Pritty Maidens all.
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CHildren both far and near, hear the sad fate,
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That had like to befell upon us late,
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By a father unkind,
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As by and you'll find,
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Who wickedly design'd that we should dye,
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Our father tother day askt us to walk,
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Into the fields where of Birds nests we talkt,
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Brother and Sister we
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Walked most harmlesly,
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For we did not foresee death was design'd.
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But in the Fields as we walked along,
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Coming just at the brink of a great Pond,
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Straightways my Father there
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Strangely on us did stare,
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Which made us dread and fear what he would do.
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My little Sister he presently flung
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From a bank headlong into the said Pond,
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Though she cry'd father dear,
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And shedded many a tear,
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Yet her cries would not hear, but flung her in.
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Then a strange boy that was near the Pond side,
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Seeing what mischief the Girl did betide;
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Straightways began to run,
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But was too overcome,
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For soon my father flung him in the Pond.
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Then I began for to beg and to pray,
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Crying, Oh do not take my Life away;
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I'll beg from door to door,
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And not come near you more,
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Yet bitterly he swore he'd drown me too.
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At which I Murder did out aloud cry,
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Which brought in people that were walking by;
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When he perceiv'd the throng,
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That to assistance come,
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In the Pond straight he run to save himself.
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And he laid hold upon my Sisters coat,
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Which caus'd the Girl on the water to float;
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Then he held up her head,
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she being almost dead,
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And to a Post he fled, plac'd in the Pond.
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There for some time he staid in spight of all,
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By the Hair of the Head, holding the Girl,
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Till at length he was took,
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Fast hold with a Well-hook,
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Which made him soon forsook the Post he held.
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After they took my Father from the Pond,
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With my young Sister that was almost drown'd
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Then they lookt for tho Lad,
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Whom indeed was quite dead,
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He being knockt oth' head by cruel blows.
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Now for to see the Mother of this Lad,
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How destracted she's run since he is dead;
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Cruel hearts must shed tears
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To see her in dispiar,
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Raving and pull her hair for her dead son.
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Oh Cruel Father, why would you us kill,
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And our innocent blood thus would spill;
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And now in prison lie,
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And perhaps come to die,
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For Acting Bleodily on your Children.
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