The Roaring Black-Smiths Resoution;
OR,
A merry Ditty compos'd on purpose to make you laugh.
There was a Black-smith liv'd in Cambridge-sheire,
As I lately for certaine truth did heare:
That had great meanes indeed but wasted all,
And then to Poverty he straight did fall,
His Passages in verse I here have writ
Hoping thereby that some will learne more wit,
He doth recant at last and bids adieu
To all his boone companions old and new.
To a Pleasant new Tune, cal'd Farwell to St. Gileses
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THe prettiest Jest that ere I heard
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to you I will declare,
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If you'l have but the patience
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to stay the same to heare,
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'Tis of a roaring Blacksmith,
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that blew old Vulcan's Bellowes,
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And this same tone be often us'd,
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amongst his boone good-fellowes,
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Let's drinke and rant,
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And sing a merry straine,
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And when the Flaggons out then fill it again
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Run Tap run Tapster
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this was all his note,
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Till almost all his substance,
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he had swallowed downe his throat,
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And all that ere he got beside,
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by his owne consent,
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Amongst his boone companions,
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as freely should be spent,
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Let's drinke, let's rant
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Let sing a merry straine
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And when the Flaggon's out then fill it again
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O fie upon the Tapster,
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what shall we sit and choake,
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Before that we will want Beere,
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I mean to pawne my cloake,
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Or what is the occasion
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that causeth all this strife
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Take away my Beere and company.
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and take away my life,
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Then drinke, and rant
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And sing a merry straine
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And when the Flaggons out then fill it againe
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Give me some tobacco
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and a pretty Wench
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Hang them that deserve it,
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for I will never flinch,
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As long as I have money,
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Ile vapour and roar,
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And when that all my stock is gone,
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Ile straight waies worke for more,
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Then drinke, and rant
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And sing a merry straine
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And when the Flaggons out then fill it again
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The Tapster he was ready
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to fill when they did call
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And thought he'd been some gallant,
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that would have paid for all
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And with all speed as might be,
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they for a Maiden sent,
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On purpose for to give this gallant
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Gentleman content,
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Then drinke, and rant
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And sing a merry straine
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And when the Flaggon's out then fil't again
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The second part, to the same tune.
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AT last the oyle of Barley
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did worke so gallantly,
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That it laid the youngster fast asleepe,
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amongst his company,
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The Tapster then did aske how,
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the reckoning should be paid,
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But all his guests was in a dump,
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and never a word was said,
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Then they left off their ranting
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I tell you very plaine
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The Flaggon it was out but was not fild again
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Then quoth the Maiden
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a trick I will devise
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I make no question of it,
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but we shall get a prize,
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We'l dive into his pocket,
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and take away his store,
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But they found but one poore groat;
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for he had nere a penny more,
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The Tapster then was sick
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In every vaine,
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Because he fild his Beere, and had nothing for his pain
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Then the Tapster tooke this Gentleman,
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and flung him out o'th doores,
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And bad a pox take all such Customers,
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that would not pay their scores,
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He likewise then made bold to take,
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his Coat from him away,
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Because he lov'd to call for Beere,
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and never meant to pay,
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The Tapster then was satisfied,
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For all his Beere and paine,
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But he vowd nere to fill to such Customers againe
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Here is the Black-smiths speech after his
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Recovery, having cast up his reckonings
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he bad adieu to all his old
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companions.
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BY this time the Black-smith
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began for to awake,
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He stard and look'd about him and
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his head began to ake,
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He cast up his reckonings,
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though nothing he did pay,
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And he fumbled in his pocket, and,
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these words began to say,
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Oh now my heart,
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Is full of griefe and paine,
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Give me my money & take your drink again
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Farewell to Cambridge
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and farewell the Hinde,
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And farewell me money since
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I can no favour find,
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Farwell my Mistriss
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and farwel her scores
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and farewell the Tapster,
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That flung me out o'th doore
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With Oh! my heart
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Is full of griefe and paine
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Give me my money & take your drinke againe
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Farwell my company,
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and farwell my Coat,
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Farwell my Customers
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that stole away my groat,
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Farwell Tobacco, and
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farewell the Ale,
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Farwell that bonny Lass
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that told me many a Tale,
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With Oh! my heart
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Is full of griefe and paine
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Give me my money and take your drink again
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Farwell all Ale-wives.
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where ever they be,
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And I wish all good fellowes
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for to be rul'd by me,
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To save their money
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and fuddle no more,
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Least poverty come in
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and fling them out o'th doores
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As it hath done me
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I tell you very plaine,
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But I am resolved nere to be drunke againe
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