The Seamans Song of Captain ward the famous Pyrate of the world, and an
Englishman born,
The tune is, The Kings going to Bulloign,
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GAllants you must understand,
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Captain Ward of England,
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a Pyrate and a Rover on the Sea,
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O late a simple Fisherman
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In the merry town of Feversham,
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grows famous in the world now every day
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From the Bay of Plimouth
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Sailed he toward the south,
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with many more of courage and of might
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Christian Princes have but few
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Such Seamen, if that he were true,
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and would but for his King & Country fight,
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Lusty Ward adventrously,
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In the straights of Barbary
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did make the Turkish Gallies sore to shake
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Bouncing Canons fiery hot,
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Spared not the Turks one jot,
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but of their lives great slaughter he did make
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The Ilanders of Malta,
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With Argosies upon the Sea,
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most proudly braved Ward unto his face
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But soon their pride was overthrown
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And their treasures made his own,
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and all their men brought to a woful case
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The wealthy ships of Venice
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Afforded him great riches
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both gold & silver won he with his sword
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Stately Spain and Portugal
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Against him dare not bare up sail,
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but gave him all the title of a Lord.
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Golden seated Candy
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Famous France and Italy
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with all the Countries of the Eastern parts,
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If once their Ships his pride withstood
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They surely all were clothd in blood,
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such cruelty was placd within their hearts,
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The riches he hath gained.
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And by blood-shed obtained
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may well suffice for to maintain a King
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His fellows all are valiant Wights
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Fit to be made Princes Knights,
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but that their lives do base dishonours bring.
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This wicked gotten treasure,
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Doth him but little pleasure,
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the land consumes what they have got by sea
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In drunkennesse and letchery,
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Flthy sins of Sodomy.
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these evill gotten Goods do wast away,
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Such as live by theeving,
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Have seldom times good ending,
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as by the deeds of Captain Ward is shown
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Being drunk amongst his Drabs
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His nearest friends he sometimes stabs,
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such wickedness within his heart is grown
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When stormy tempest riseth
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The causer he despiseth,
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still denies to pay unto the Lord
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He feareth neither God nor the Divel,
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His deeds are bad his thoughts are evil;
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his only trust is still upon his sword.
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Men of his own Countrey,
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He still abused vilely,
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some back to back are cast into the waves
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Some are hewen in pieces small,
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Some are shot against a wall,
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a slender number of their lives he saves
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Of truth it is reported
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That he is strongly guarded,
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by Turks that are not of a good belief,
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Wit and reason tells them
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He trusteth not his Countrey-men,
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but shews the right condition of a theif,
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At Tunis in Barbary
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Now he buildeth stately,
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a gallant Palace and a Royal place,
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Decked with delights most trim,
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Fitter for a Prince then him.
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the which at last will prove to his disgrace.
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To make the world to wonder,
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This Captain is Commander
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of four and twenty ships of sail,
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To bring in treasure from the sea,
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Into the Markets every day.
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the which the Turks do buy up without fail,
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His name and state so mounteth
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These Countrey men accounteth
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him equal to the Nobles of that Land
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But these his honours we shall find
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Shortly blown up with the wind,
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or prove like letters written in the sand.
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