A warning for all lewd livers,
By the example of a disobedient Childe, who riotously wasted and consumed his
Fathers and Mothers goods, and also his own, among strumpets, and other lewd
livers, and after dyed most miserably on a dung-hill.
To the tune of Sir Andrew Barton.
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MY bleeding heart with griefe 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 leade the life that I have led.
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My Father was a Gentleman,
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as many gallants witnesse can,
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He had no sonne but onely I,
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which made his gold and silver fly.
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When as my Father hath me sent,
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to sell his goodes or take up rent,
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I did consume and waste the same
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in drinking and unlawfull game.
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The Cards and Dice were my delight,
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I haunted tavernes day and night,
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Lewd women were my chiefest joyes,
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and my consorts were cutpurse boyes.
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Gods holy word I disobeyd,
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I cared not what the Preacher said,
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For quaffing cans of Ale and Beere,
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was all the service I would heare,
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Thus acting my ungratious part,
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I broke my aged Fathers heart,
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When gastly death did on him ceaze,
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I thought my selfe 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 in good red gold,
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for Wine and Beere I quickly sould.
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Then was I prest to serve the King,
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that might my name to honour bring,
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A Souldiers life I held it base,
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and alwaies tooke it in disgrace.
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And having thus consumd my store,
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I to my Mother went for more;
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Who sould and morgagd all her land,
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and put the money in my hand.
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And with these words with teares she said
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thou knowest my Son thy fathers dead
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No more is left but I and thee,
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therefore deare Sonne be good to mee.
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If that thy love from mee should fall,
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I have on earth no friend at all,
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Therefore good Son, to me prove kind,
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and thou in Heaven reward 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 shamefull death might be his end,
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that would his Mother once offend.
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All you that doe no reckoning make,
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of swearing when your words you speake,
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Give eare to this which will you tell,
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lewd livers seldome died well.
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You disobedient children all,
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draw neare 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 deare and Mothers kinde,
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beare you this lesson well in minde,
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Trust not too much a wicked child
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for oftentimes men are beguild.
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When twigs are greene you may them ply
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but let them grow till they be dry,
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They will so stiffe and stubborne 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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to mend my life had not the grace,
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Sixteene score pound in ready gold,
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into my hand my Mother told.
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But in the compasse of one yeare,
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I spent it all as may appeare,
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And having left no meanes at all,
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I unto robbing straight did fall.
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THen did I steale my Mothers rings,
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her brasse, her pewter, & such things,
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The very bed whereon shee lay,
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I like a villaine sould away.
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What ever I could get or take,
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I thereof straight would money make,
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My flinty heart did feele no griefe,
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to see my Mother want reliefe.
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At last shee grew exceeding poore,
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and begd her bread from doore to doore,
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No Infidell 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 yeelds reliefe when friends grow scant
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and easeth those that are in want.
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From place to place I then was 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 safegard lye.
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My dearest kinsfolkes doe me chide,
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my nearest friends mocke and deride,
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Those that were my consorte of late,
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their love is changed 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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Despise 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 poore, despise me all,
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No friend to take my part had I,
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but was constraind in fields to lye.
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In this my extreme mysery,
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my griefe and my necessity,
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No creature gave for my reliefe,
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one peece of bread to ease my griefe.
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But as a poore despised wretch,
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his latest gaspe that he did fetch,
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Was on a dounghill 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 borne in shame to die,
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and end his dayes in misery.
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Take warning young men by this vice,
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learne to avoid the Cards and Dice:
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Lewd womens company forbeare,
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they are the high way unto care.
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All Parents while your babes be young,
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looke to their waies in hand and tongue,
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Then wickednesse will not abound,
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but grace in children may be found.
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