New Mad Tom of Bedlam
OR,
The Man in the Moon drinks Claret,
With Powder'd-Beef, Turnip and Carret.
To the Tune of, Grays Inn-Mask.
|
FOrth from my sad and darksome Cell,
|
Or from the deep Abiss of Hell,
|
Mad Tom is come to view the World again,
|
To see if he can ease his distemper'd Brain;
|
Fear and Care doth pierce my Soul:
|
Hark! how the angry Furies howl;
|
Pluto laughs, and Proserpine is glad,
|
To see poor naked Tom of Bedlam mad.
|
Through the World I wander Night and Day,
|
to find my straggling Senses.
|
In an angry Mood I found old Time,
|
with 's Pentarchy of Tences;
|
When me he 'spies,
|
Away he flies,
|
For time will stay for no Man:
|
In vain with Cries,
|
I rend the Skies,
|
For Pity is not common.
|
Cold and comfortless I lie,
|
Help, O help, or else I die.
|
Hark! I hear
|
Apollos team,
|
The Carman 'gins to whistle;
|
Chaste Diana
|
Bends her Bow:
|
The Boar b[e]gins to bristle:
|
Come Vulcan with tools and tackle,
|
And knock of my troublesome Shackle;
|
Let Charles make ready his wane,
|
To bring me my Senses again.
|
Last Night I heard the Dog-star bark,
|
Mars met Venus in the dark;
|
Limping Vulcan het an Iron-bar,
|
And furiously run at the God of war;
|
Mars with his weapon laid about,
|
But Vulcans temples had the Gout,
|
His broad horns did so hang in his sight,
|
He could not see to aim his blows aright:
|
Mercury, the nimble Post of heaven,
|
stood still to see the Quarrel;
|
Correl bellied Bacchus, Giant like,
|
bestrid a strong Beer-barrel:
|
To me he drank,
|
I did him thank,
|
But I could get no Syder;
|
He drank whole Butts,
|
Till he crackt his Guts;
|
But mine were ne'er the wider.
|
Poor naked Tom is very dry,
|
A little drink for Charity:
|
Hark! I hear
|
Acteons hounds,
|
The huntsman whoops and hollows,
|
Ringwood, Royster,
|
Bowman, Jowler,
|
At the Chase now follows,
|
The Man i' th' Moon drinks Claret,
|
Eats Powder'd-beef, turnip and Carret,
|
A Cup of old Malaga Sack,
|
We'll fire the bush at his back.
|
|
|
|
|
|