Ragged, and Torne, and True.
Or. the poore mans Resoltion,
To the tune of Old Simon the King.
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I Am a poore man, God knowes,
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and all my neighbours can tell.
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I want both money and clothes,
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and yet I live wondrous well:
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I have a contented mind,
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and a heart to beare out all,
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Though Fortune (being unkind)
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hath given me substance small.
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Then hang up sorrow and care,
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it never shall make me rue:
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What though my backe goes bare:
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Ime ragged, and torne, and true.
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I scorne to live by the shift,
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or by any sinister dealing.
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Ile flatter no man for a gift,
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nor will I get money by stealing,
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Ile be no Knight of the Post;
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to sell my soule for a bribe,
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Though all my fortunes be crost,
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yet I scorne the Cheaters tribe.
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Then hang up sorrow and care,
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it never shall make me rue,
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What though my cloake be thred-bare,
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Ime ragged, and torne, and true.
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A Boote of Spanish leather.
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I have seene set fast in the stockes,
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Exposed to wind and weather,
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and foule reproach and mock[e],
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While I in my poore ragges,
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can passe at liberty still:
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O fie on these brawling bragges,
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when the money is gotten so ill,
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O fie on these pelfering knaves,
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I scorne to be of that crue.
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They steale to make themselves brave,
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Ime ragged, and torne, and true.
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I have seene a Gallant goe by,
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woth all his wealth on his backe,
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He lookt as loftily,
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as one that did nothing lacke,
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And yet he hath no meanes,
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but what he gets by the sword,
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Which he consume on Queanes,
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for it thrives not take my worde
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Oh fie on these high-way theeves,
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the Gallowes will be then due:
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Though my doublet be rent ith sleeves
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Ime ragged, and torne, and true.
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The Second Part. To the Same Tune.
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SOme do themselves maintaine,
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with playing at cardes and Dice,
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O fie on that lawlesse gaine,
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got by such wicked vice:
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They coozen poore Countrey-men,
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with their delusions vilde,
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Yet it happens now and then,
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that they are themselves beguilde:
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For if they be caught in a snare,
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then the Pillery clames its due,
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Though my Jerkin be worne and bare
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Ime ragged, and torne, and true.
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I have seene some gallants brave,
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up Holborne ride in a Cart,
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Which sight much sorrow gave
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to every tender heart:
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Then have I said to my selfe,
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what pity is it for this,
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That any man for pelfe,
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should do such a foule amisse:
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O fie on deceit and theft,
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it makes men at the last rue,
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Though I have but little left,
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Ime ragged, and torne, and true.
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The Pick-pockets in a throng,
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at a Market or a Faire.
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Will try whose purse is strong
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that they may the money share:
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But if they are caught ith action,
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they are carried away in disgrace.
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Either to the house of Correction,
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or else to a worser place:
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O fie on these pelfering Theeves,
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the Gallowes will be their due,
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What need I suee for a repreeve[?]
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Ime ragged, and torne, and true.
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The Hostler, to maintaine
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himselfe with money ins purse,
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Approves the Proverbe true,
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and sayes Gramercy Horse:
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He robs the travelling beast,
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that cannot divulge his ill,
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He steales a whole handfull at least,
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from every halfe peck he should fill,
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O fie on those coozening scabs,
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that rob the poore Jades of their due
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I scorne all theeves and Drabs:
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Ime ragged, and torne, and true.
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Tis good to be honest and just,
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though a man be never so poore,
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False dealers are still in mistrust,
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thare afraid of the officers doore:
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Their conscience doth them accuse
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and the quake at the noise of a bush:
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While he that doth no man abuse,
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For the law needs nat care a rush,
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Then welfare the man that can say,
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I pay every man his due,
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Although I go poore in aray,
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Ime ragged, and torne, and true.
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