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 and taunts,
|
am grievd 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 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 deafuess and ill sight,
|
doth much disliking draw,
|
Fie on this doting fool,
|
this crooked Churl (quod. they)
|
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 lye)
|
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 ile never dye,
|
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 and day,
|
With woe he waxed faint,
|
but mark what I shall say,
|
This rich and dainty pair,
|
the young-man and his wife,
|
Though clogd with golden coin
|
yet led a grievous life,
|
Seven years they married were
|
and yet in all that space,
|
God sent them ner an heir,
|
their Riches to imbrace,
|
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 born,
|
Full oft I am revild,
|
of this my barren Womb:
|
Much Physick did she take,
|
to make a fruitful soil,
|
And with acces thereof,
|
her body she did spoil,
|
Full of grief full of pain,
|
full of ach 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 I my health had,
|
though I were ner so poor,
|
I card not tho I went,
|
begging from door to door.
|
Fie on this muck, quod she,
|
it cannot pleasure me,
|
In this my woful case,
|
and great extremity,
|
Thus livd 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 dye:
|
Ere thirteen years were past,
|
dyd he without a will,
|
And by this means at last,
|
the old man living still;
|
Injoyd his Land at last,
|
after much misery.
|
Many years after that
|
livd he most happily.
|
Far richer then before,
|
by this means was he known
|
He help the sick and sore,
|
the poor man overthrown,
|
But this was still his Song,
|
let all men understand,
|
Those Parents are accurst,
|
live on their Childrens hand.
|
|
|
|
|
|