A Ballad Intituled, The Old Mans Complaint against his
Wretched Son, who to Advance his Marriage, did undo himself.
To the same Tune.
|
ALL you that fathers be,
|
look on my misery,
|
Let not affection fond
|
work your extremity,
|
For to advance my son
|
in marriage wealthily,
|
I have my self undone
|
without all remedy.
|
I that was wont to live
|
uncontrould any way,
|
With many checks & taunts
|
am grieved every day:
|
Alack and woe is me
|
I that might late command,
|
Cannot have a bit of bread
|
but at my Childrens hand,
|
While I was wont to sit
|
chief at the tables end,
|
Now like a Servant slave
|
must I on them attend,
|
I must not come in place
|
where their friends merry be,
|
Lest I should my son disgrace
|
with my unreverency,
|
my Coughing in the night
|
offends my daughter in law,
|
my Deafness and ill sight
|
doth much disliking draw.
|
Fye on this doting fool,
|
this crooked Churl (quoth she)
|
The Chimney corner still
|
must with him troubled be,
|
I must rise from my Chair
|
to give my children place.
|
I must speak servants fair,
|
this is my woful case.
|
Unto their friends they tell
|
(I must not say they lie)
|
That they do keep me here
|
even of meer charity.
|
When I am sick in bed
|
they will not come me nigh,
|
Each day they wish me dead
|
yet say ill never die:
|
O Lord ant be thy will
|
look on my woful case,
|
No honest man before
|
ever took such disgrace.
|
This was the Old-mans plaint
|
every night & day,
|
With woe he waxed faint,
|
but mark what I shall say.
|
This rich and dainty pair,
|
the young-man and his wife,
|
Tho clogd with golden coin,
|
yet led a grievous life.
|
Seven years they married were,
|
and yet in all that space,
|
God sent them neer an heir
|
their Riches to embrace:
|
Thus did their sorrow breed,
|
joy was from them exild,
|
Quoth she, a hundred pound
|
would I give for a Child,
|
to have a joyful Child
|
of my own body.
|
Full oft I am revild
|
of this my barren womb,
|
much Physick did she take
|
to make a fruitful Soil,
|
And with access thereof
|
her body she did spoil.
|
Full of grief, full of pain,
|
full of each grew she then,
|
that she cries out amain,
|
seek for some cunning men,
|
that I my health may have,
|
I will no money spare.
|
But that which she did crave
|
never fell to her share.
|
Alack alack, she said,
|
what torments I live in,
|
How well are they apaid
|
that truly ease can win:
|
So that I had my health,
|
and from this pain was free,
|
I would give all my wealth
|
that blessed day to see.
|
O that my health I had,
|
tho I were neer so poor,
|
I card not tho I went
|
begging from door to door,
|
fie on this muck, quoth she,
|
it cannot pleasure me,
|
in this my woful case
|
and great extremity.
|
thus lived she long in pain,
|
all comfort from her fled,
|
She strangled at the last
|
her self within the bed.
|
Her husband full of grief
|
consumed wofully,
|
His body pind away,
|
suddenly he did die.
|
Ere thirteen years was past
|
dyd he without a will,
|
And by this means at last
|
the Old man, living still,
|
Enjoyd his Land at last,
|
after much misery,
|
Many Years after that
|
livd he most happily,
|
far richer than before,
|
by this means was he known
|
He helpt the sick and sore,
|
the poor man overthrown.
|
But this was all his Song,
|
let all men understand,
|
those Parents are accurst,
|
lives on their childrens hand.
|
|
|
|
|
|