A new Ballad, shewing the great misery sustained by a poore man in Essex, his Wife
and Children: with other strange things done by the Devill.
To the tune of, The rich Merchant man.
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A poore Essex man
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that was in great distresse,
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Most bitterly made his complaint,
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in griefe and heavinesse:
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Through scarcity and want,
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he was oppressed sore,
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He could not find his children bread,
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he was so extreme poore.
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His silly wife God wot,
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being lately brought to bed,
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With her poore Infants at her brest
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had neither drinke nor bread.
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A wofull lying in
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was this, the Lord doth know,
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God keep all honest vertuous wives
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from feeling of such woe.
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Oh Husband deare, she said,
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for want of food I die,
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Some succour doe for me provide,
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to ease my misery.
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The man with many a teare,
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most pittiously replyde,
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We have no means to buy us bread;
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with that the children cryd.
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They came about him round,
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upon his coat they hung:
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And pittiously they made their mone
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their little hands they wrung.
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Be still my boyes, said he,
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and Ile goe to the wood,
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And bring some Acornes for to rost,
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and you shall have some food.
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Forth went the wofull man,
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a Cord he tooke with him,
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Wherewith to bind the broken wood
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that he should homewards bring:
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And by the way as he went,
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met Farmers two or three,
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Desiring them for Christ his sake,
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to helpe his misery.
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Oh lend to me (he said)
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one loafe of Barley bread,
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One pint of milke for my poore wife
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in Child-bed almost dead:
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Thinke on my extreme need,
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to lend me have no doubt,
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I have no money for to pay,
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but I will worke it out.
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But they in churlish sort,
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did one by one reply,
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We have already lent you more
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than we can come well by.
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This answere strooke his heart
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as cold as any stone:
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Unto the wood from thence he went,
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with many a grievous groane.
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Where at the length (behold)
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a tall man did him meet,
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And cole-black were his garments all
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from head unto his feet.
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Thou wretched man (said he)
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why dost thou weep so sore?
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What is the cause thou makst this mone
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tell me and sigh no more.
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Alas, good Sir (he said)
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the lack of some reliefe,
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For my poore wife & children small,
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tis cause of all my griefe:
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They lie all like to starve
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for want of bread (saith he)
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Good Sir, vouchsafe therfore t[o] give
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one peny unto me.
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Hereby this wretched man
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committed wondrous evill,
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He begd an almes and did not know
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he askt it of the Devill:
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But straight the hellish Fiend,
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to him replyd againe,
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An odious sinner art thou then,
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that dost such want sustaine.
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Alack (the poore man said)
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this thing for truth I know,
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That Job was just, yet never man
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endured greater woe.
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The godly oft doe want,
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and need doth pinch them sore,
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Yet God will not forsake them quite
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but doth their states restore.
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If thou so faithfull be,
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why goest thou begging then?
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Thou shalt be fed as Daniel was,
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within the Lyons Den,
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If thus thou doe abide,
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the Ravens shall bring thee food,
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As they unto Elias did,
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that wandred in the Wood.
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Mocke not a wofull man,
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good Sir, the poore man said,
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Redouble not my sorrowes so,
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that are upon me laid:
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But rather doe extend
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unto my need, and give
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One penny for to buy some bread,
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my children poore may live.
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With that he opened straight,
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the fairest purse in sight,
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That ever mortall eye beheld,
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fild up with crownes full bright,
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Unto the wofull man
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the same he wholly gave,
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Who very earnestly did pray,
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that Christ his life might save.
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Well (quoth the damned spirit)
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goe ease thy childrens sorrow,
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And if thou wantest any thing,
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com meet me here to morrow:
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Then home the poore man went,
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with cheerefull heart and mind,
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And comforted his wofull wife
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with words that were most kind.
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The second part, To the same tune.
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TAke comfort Wife he said,
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I have a purse of Gold
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Now given by a Gentleman,
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most faire for to behold.
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And thinking for to pull
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his purse from bosome out,
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He found nothing but Oken leaves,
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bound in a filthy clout.
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Which when he did behold,
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with sorrow pale and wan,
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In desperate sort to seeke the purse,
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unto the Wood he ran,
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Supposing in his mind,
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that he had lost it there:
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He could not tell then what to think,
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he was twixt hope and feare.
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He had no sooner come
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into the shady Grove,
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The Devil met with him againe,
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as he in fancy strove:
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What seekst thou here he said?
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the purse (quoth he) you gave:
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Thus fortune she hath crossed me,
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and then the Devill said,
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Where didst thou put the purse?
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tell me, and doe not lye,
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Within my bosome said the man,
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where no man did come nigh.
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Looke there againe (quoth he)
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then said the man I shall,
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And found his bosome full of Toads,
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as thicke as they could crawle.
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The poore man at this sight,
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to speake had not the power,
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See (quod the Devill) vengeance doth
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pursue thee every houre:
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Goe cursed wretch (quoth he)
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and rid away thy life,
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But murther first thy children yong,
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and miserable Wife.
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The poore man raging mad,
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ran home incontinent,
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Intending for to kill them all,
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but God did him prevent.
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For why the chiefest man,
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that in the Parish dwelt,
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With meat and mony thither came,
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which liberally he dealt.
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Who seeing the poore man
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come home in such a rage,
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Was faine to bind him in his bed,
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his fury to asswage:
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Where long he lay full sicke,
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still crying for his Gold,
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But being well, this whole discourse
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he to his neighbours told.
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From all temptations,
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Lord blesse both great and small:
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And let no man, O heavenly God,
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for want of succour fall:
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But put their speciall trust
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in God for evermore,
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Who will no doubt from misery,
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each faithfull man restore.
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