Friendly Advice to
EXTRAVAGANTS
Shewing the Vanity of those,
Who to themselves are cruel foes,
By their delays for to prepare,
grim Death he will not long forbear
But unawares will give the blow,
They'l mourn when they do find it so
Tune of, The rich Merchant man.
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O What a sinful Age
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is this that we live in,
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When men delight in extreams,
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and take a pride in sin.
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Time's wing'd says one and flies:
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therefore let us be merry,
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Perhaps this may be our last day,
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then let us drink our Sherry.
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It is a motion strange
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to call for men to drink,
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But do not say let us go pray,
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for 'tis high time I think.
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Instead of good advice
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they should give one another,
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They give advice that in a trice
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they may all virtue smother.
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Wicked devices now
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seem to be so common,
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There's few that do the same eschew,
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it is forsook by no man,
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Oh pitty it is then
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that sin should be the fashion,
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Be sure they do bring shame unto
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this poor distressed Nation.
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Who by their wickedness
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promote the Devils cause,
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They urge our God to send his Rod,
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by breaking of his Laws.
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While yet we leisure have
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and time for to repent,
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Make no delay for fear you may
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into the Grave be sent.
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Before you are prepar'd
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and fitted for to dye,
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Oh then make haste and no time waste
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repent immediately.
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It can do you no harm
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for to repent in time,
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Many I say are snatcht away,
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and dye just in their prime.
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We have no lease of life,
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no more than those who died,
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And met with death who stop'd their breath
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and would not be deny'd.
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When death doth us assaile
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we cannot him oppose,
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Certain it is we must not miss
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the Hour, yet no man knows.
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It will be very sad
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for those who die in sin,
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Oh then take care for death prepare,
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and think how slack you've been.
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We shall not alwaies find
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God will with sinners bear,
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Then while you may make no delay
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but for your death prepare.
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Think not that when you please
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you shall have time to do it,
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If you prolong time, you do wrong
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yourselves; then now fall to it.
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And say not with the wretch
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let's drink, laugh, and be merry,
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Time will not stay but flies away,
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then do not mind your Sherry.
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But that which will do good
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to your immortal souls,
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Mind that alone, and ev'ry one
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leave quaffing of your Bouls.
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That drink which now in waste
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you down your throats do throw,
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Where drink is scant the same you'l want
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& crave for ought I know.
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