New Mad Tom of Bedlam
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The Man in the Moon drinks Claret,
With Powder-Beef Turnip and Carret.
Tune is, Grays-Inn-Mask.
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FOrth from my sad and darksome Cell,
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Or from the deep Abiss of Hell,
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Mad Tom is come to view the World again,
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To see if he can ease his distemper'd Brain:
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Fear and Care doth pierce the Soul:
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Hark! how the angry Furies howl;
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Pluto laughs, and Proserpine is glad,
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To see poor naked Tom of Bedlam mad.
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Through the World I wander Night and Day,
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to find my stragling Senses.
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In an angry mood I found old Time,
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with's Pentarchy of Tences;
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When me he 'spies,
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Away he flies,
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For Time will stay for no Man:
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In vain with Cries,
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I rend the Skies,
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For Pitty is not common.
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Cold and comfortless I lye,
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Help, O help, or else I dye.
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Hark, I hear
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Appollos Team,
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The Carman 'gins to Whistle;
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Chaste Diana
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Bends her Bow;
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The Boar begins to bristle:
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Come Vulcan with Tools and with Tackle,
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Shake off my troublesome Shakle;
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Let Charles make ready his Wane,
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To bring me my Senses again.
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Last Night I heard the Dog-star bark,
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Mars met Venus in the dark;
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Limping Vulcan heat an Iron-bar,
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And furiously run at the God of War;
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Mars with his Weapon laid about,
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But Vulcans Temples had the Gout,
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His broad Horns did so hang in his sight,
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He could not see to aim his Blows aright:
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Mercury, the nimble Poast of Heaven,
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stood still to see the Quarrel;
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Gorrel bellied Bacchus, Gyant like,
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bestrid a strong Beer-barrel:
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To me he drank,
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I did him thank,
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But I could get no Cider;
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He drank whole Butts,
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Till he crackt his Guts;
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But mine were ne'r the wider.
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Poor naked Tom is very dry,
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A little Drink for Charity:
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Hark, I hear
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Acteons Hounds,
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The Huntsman whoops and hollows,
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Ringwood, Royster,
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Bowman, Jowler,
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At the Chase now follows.
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The Man i'th' Moon drinks Claret,
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Eats Powder'd-beef, Turnep and Carret,
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A Cup of old Malago Sack,
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Will fire his Bush at his Back.
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