The Children in the Wood.
OR, THE
Norfolk Gentleman's Last Will and
Testament.
I can by no means join in opinion with
those who believe this song written on the murder
of King Edward V. and his brother in the tower.
Richard III. was succeeded by his inveterate foe,
King Henry VII. whose descendants have ever
since swayed the scepter; and a poet need not
have had recourse to fiction to have recorded his
story. He might safely have named the tyrant,
and had it been shortly after his reign, it would
have been a compliment to the sovereign. The
blaeker King Richard appeared, the more the
nation thought themselves obliged to their great
deliv[e]rer Henry. They have but one plea then
left, which is, This Old Ballad may perhaps have
been wrote in the reign of Richard; but I can
assure them, from the little knowledge I have of
Old Songs, That it was not wrote of a hundred
years after his death; and I am apt to think the
poet had some private story in view, and no pub-
lick one, I dare swear.
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NOW ponder well, ye parents dear,
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these words that I shall write:
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A doleful story you shall hear,
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in time brought forth to lig[h]t.
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A gentleman of good account
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in Norfolk dwelt of late,
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Whose d[i]d in honour far surmount
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most men of his estate
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Sore sick he was, and like to die,
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no help his life could save.
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His wife by him as sick did lie,
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and both possess'd one grave.
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No love between these two was lost,
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Each was to the other kind.
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In love they liv'd, in love they dy'd,
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And left two babes behind.
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The one a fine and pretty boy,
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not passing five years old;
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The other a girl more young than he,
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and fram'd in beauty's mold.
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The father left his little son,
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as plainly doth appear,
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When he to perfect age should come,
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three hundred pounds a year.
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And to his little daughter Jane
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six hundred pounds in gold,
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To be paid on the marriage day,
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which might not be controul'd:
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But if these children chanc'd to die,
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ere they to age should come,
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Their uncle should possess their wealth;
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for so the will did run.
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Now brother, said the dying man,
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look to my children dear;
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Be kind unto my boy and girl,
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no friend else have they here.
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To God and you I recommend
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my children dear this day;
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But little time we have, be sure,
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within this world to stay.
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You must be father and mother both
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and uncle all in one:
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God knows what will become of them,
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when we are dead and gone.
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With that bespoke the mother dear,
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Oh! brother kind, quoth she,
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You are the man must bring our babes
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to wealth or misery.
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If you do keep them carefully,
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then God will you reward;
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But if you otherwise should deal,
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God will your deeds regard.
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With lips as cold as any stone
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they kiss'd their children small:
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God bless you both, our Children dear.
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Then down the tears did fall.
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These speeches then the brother spake
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to this sick couple there:
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The keeping of your children small,
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sweet sister, do not fear.
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God never prosper me nor mine,
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nor ought else that I have,
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If I do wrong your children dear,
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when you are laid in grave.
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The parents being dead and gone,
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the children home he takes,
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And brings them strait unto his house,
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where much of them he makes.
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He had not kept these pretty babes
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a twelvemonth and a day,
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But for their wealth he did devise
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to take their lives away.
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He bargain'd with two ruffians strong,
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which were of furious mood,
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That they should take these children,
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and slay them in a wood
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Then told his wife, and all he had,
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he did the children send,
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For to be brought up in fair London,
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with one that was his friend.
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Away then went these pretty babes,
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rejoicing at that tide,
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Rejoicing with a merry mood,
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they should on horseback ride.
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They prate and prattle pleasantly,
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as they rode on the way,
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To those that should their butchers be,
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and work their lives decay.
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So that the pretty speech they made,
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made murderers hearts relent.
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And they which undertook the deed,
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full sorely did repent.
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Yet one of them, more hard of heart,
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did vow to do his charge,
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Because the wretch who hired him
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had paid him very large.
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The other won't hereto agree,
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so here they fell to strife;
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With one another they did fight
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about the childrens life.
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And he that was of mildest mood
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did slay the other there,
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Within an unfrequented wood,
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while babes did quake for fear.
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He took the children by the hand,
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while tears stood in their eyes,
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And bid them straitway follow him,
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and look they d[i]d not cry.
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And two long miles he led them thus,
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while they for bre[a]d complain.
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Stay here, quoth he, I'll bring you bread,
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when I come back again.
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These pretty babes went hand in hand,
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and wander'd up and down;
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But never more d[i]d see the man
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approaching from the town.
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Their pretty lips with blackberries
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were all besmear'd and dy'd;
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And when they saw the darksome night,
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they sat them down and cry'd.
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Thus wander'd these two pretty babes,
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till death did end their grief;
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In one another's arms they dy'd,
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as babes wanting relief.
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No burial these pretty babes
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of any man receives,
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Till Robin-red-breasts painfully
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did cover them with leaves.
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And now the heavy wrath of God
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upon their uncle fell;
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Yea frightful fiends did haunt his house,
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his conscience felt an hell.
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His barns were fir'd, his goods consum'd,
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his lands were barren made,
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His cattle dy'd within the field,
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and nothing with him stay'd.
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And in a voyage to Portugal
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two of his sons did die.
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And to conclude, himself was brought
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to want and misery
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He pawn'd and mortgaged his land,
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ere seven years came about.
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So now at length this wicked deed
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by this means was found out.
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The fellow that did take in hand
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the children for to kill,
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Was for a murder judg'd to die,
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as was God's blessed will,
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He did confess the very truth,
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the which is here express'd
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Their uncle dy'd, when he for debt
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did long in Prison rest.
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You that executors be made,
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and overseers eke,
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Of children that be fatherless,
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and infants mild and meek.
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Take you example by this thing,
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and yield to each his right,
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Lest God for such like cruelty
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your wicked minds requite.
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