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EBBA 33203

National Library of Scotland - Crawford
Ballad XSLT Template
A new Ballad, Intituled, The stout Cripple of Cornwall,
Wherein is shewed his dessolute Life and deserved Death.
The Tune is, The Blind Beggar.

OF a stout Cripple that kept the high way,
And beg'd for his living all time of the day,
A story I'll you that pleasant shall be,
The Cripple of Cornwall sirnamed was he.

He crept on his hands and knees up and down,
In a torn Jacket and a ragged torn gown,
For he had never a Leg to the Knee.
The Cripple of Corn-wall sirnamed was he.

He was of stomach couragious and stout,
For he had no cause to complain of the Bout,
To go upon stilts most cunning was he,
With a staff on his neck most gallant to see.

Yea no good fellowship would he forsake,
Were it in secret a Noise for to take,
His help was as good as any might be,
The Cripple of Corn-wall sirnamed was he.

When he upon any service did go,
The crafty young Cripple provided it so,
His stool he kept close in an old hollow tree,
That stood from the City a mile, two, or three.

Thus all the way long he beg'd for relief,
And all the night long he plaid the false thief;
For seven years together this custom kept he,
And no man knew him such a person to be.

There were few Grasiers went on the way,
But unto the Cripple for passage did pay;
And every brave Merchant that he did descry,
He emptied their purses e're they passed by.

The noble Lord Courtney both gallant & bold,
Rode forth with great plenty of silver and gold,
At Exeter there a purchase to pay,
But that the false Cripple his journey did stay.

For why the false Cripple heard tydings of late,
As he sat for alms at the Noble-mans Gate,
This is (quoth the Cripple) a booty for me,
And i'le follow 't closely, as closely may be.

Then to his companions the matter he moved
which their false actions before time had proved,
they make themselves ready & deeply they swear
The Moneys their own before they come there.

Upon his two stilts the Cripple did mount,
To have the best share it was his full account,
All cloathed in Canvas down to the ground,
He took up his place his mates with him round.

Then came the L. Courtney with half a score men
Yet little suspecting these thieves in their Den,
And they perceiving them come to their hand,
In a dark evening bid them to stand.

Deliver thy purse, quoth the Cripple with speed,
For we be good fellows, and thereof have need;
Not so, quod L. Courtney, but this I'll tell ye,
Win it and wear it, else get none of me.

With that the Lord Courtney stood in his defence,
And so did his Servants, but e're they went hence,
Two of the true men were slain in this fight,
And four of the thieves were put to the flight.

And while for their safeguard they run thus away,
The jolly bold Cripple did hold them in play,
And with his Pike-staff he wounded them so,
As they were unable to run or to go.

With fighting the L. Courtney was out of breath,
And most of his servants were wounded to death,
Then came other Horse-men riding so fast,
The Cripple was forced to flye at the last.

And over a River that run there beside,
Which was very deep, and eighteen foot wide;
With his long staff and stilts leaped he,
And shifted himself in an old hollow tree.

Then throughout City was hue and cry made,
To have these thieves apprehended and stain,
The Cripple he creeps on his hands and his knees,
And in the high-way great passing he sees.

And as they came riding, he begging doth say,
O give me one penny good Masters I pray,
And thus unto Exeter creeps be along,
No man suspecting that he had done wrong:

Anon the Lord Courtney he spies in the street,
He comes unto him, and kisses his feet,
Saying, God save your honour, & keep you from ill,
And from the hands of your Enemies still.

Amen, quod L Courtney, and therewith threw down
Unto the poor Cripple an English Crown,
Away went the Cripple, and thus he did think,
Five hundred pound more will make me to drink.

In vain that hue and it was made,
They found none of them though the Country was laid,
But this griev'd the Cripple night and day,
That he so unluckily mist of his prey.

Nine hundred pound this Cripple had got,
By begging and thieving so good was his lot,
A thousand pound he would make it he said,
And then he would give over his trade.

But as he striv'd his mind to fulfill,
In following his actions so lewd and so ill,
At last he was taken the law to suffice,
Condemned and hanged at Exeter size.

Which made all men amazed to see,
That such ad impudent Cripple as he,
Should venture himself to such actions as they,
To rob in such sort upon the high way.


FINIS.
Printed for W. Thackeray, at the Angel in Duck-Lane,
J. M. and A. M.

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