A New Balled, Intituled, The stout Cripple of Cornwall, Wherein is shewed his desso- lute life and deserved Death. The Tune is, The Blind Beggar.
|
OF a stout Cripple that kept the high-way,
|
And beg'd for his living all time of the day,
|
A story I'll tell you that pleasant shall be,
|
The Cripple of Cornwall sirnamed was he.
|
He crept on his hands and knees up and down,
|
In a torn Jacket and a ragged torn Gown,
|
For he had never a Leg to the Knee,
|
The Cripple of Cornwall sirnamed was he.
|
He was of stomach couragious and stout,
|
For he had no cause to complain of the Gout,
|
To go upon stilts most cunning was he,
|
With a staff on his neck most gallant to see.
|
Yea, no good fellowship would he forsake,
|
Were it in secret a Horse for to take,
|
His help was as good as any might be,
|
The Cripple of Cornwall sirnamed was he.
|
When he upon any service did go,
|
The crafty young Cripple provided it so,
|
His stool he kept close in an old hollow tree,
|
That stood from the City a mile, two, or three.
|
Thus all the day long he beg'd for relief,
|
And all the night long he plaid the false thief;
|
For seven years together this custom kept he,
|
And no man knew him such a person to be.
|
There were few Grasiers went on the way,
|
But unto the Cripple for passage did pay;
|
And every brave Merchant that he did discry,
|
He emptied their purses e're they passed by.
|
The noble Lord Courtney both gallant & bold,
|
Rode forth with great plenty of silver and gold,
|
At Exeter there a purchase to pay,
|
But that the false Cripple his journey did stay.
|
For why the false Cripple heard tydings of late,
|
As he sat for Alms at the Noble-mans Gate,
|
This is (quoth the Cripple) a booty for me,
|
And i'le follow't closely, as closey may be.
|
Then to his companions the matter he moved,
|
Which their false actions before time had proved,
|
They make themselves ready & deeply they swear
|
The Moneys their own before they come there.
|
Upon his two stilts the Cripple did mount,
|
To have the best share it was his full account,
|
All cloathed in Canvas down to the ground,
|
He took up his place his mates with him round.
|
Then came the Lord Courtney with half a score men
|
Yet little suspecting these thieves in their Den,
|
And they perceiving them come to their hand,
|
In a dark evening bid them to stand.
|
Deliver thy purse, quoth the Cripple with speed,
|
We be good fellows, and thereof have need;
|
Not so, quod Lord Courtney but this I'll tell ye,
|
Win it and wear it, else get none of me.
|
With that the Lord Courtney stood in his defence,
|
And so did his Servants, but e're they went hence
|
Two of the true men were slain in this fight,
|
And four of the thieves were put to the flight.
|
And while for their safeguard they run thus away,
|
The jolly bold Cripple did hold them in play,
|
And with his Pike-staff he wounded them so,
|
As they were unable to run or to go.
|
With fighting the Lord Courtney was out of breath,
|
And most of his servants were wounded to death,
|
Then came other Horse-men riding so fast,
|
The Cripple was forced to flye at the last.
|
And over a River that run there beside,
|
Which was very deep, and eighteen foot wide;
|
With his long staff and stilts leaped he,
|
And shifted himself in on old hollow tree.
|
Then throughout the City was hue and cry made,
|
To have these theives apprehended and staid,
|
The Cripple he creeps on his hands and his knees,
|
And in the high-way great passing he sees.
|
And as they came riding, he begging doth say,
|
O give me one penny good Masters I pray,
|
And thus unto Exeter creeps he along,
|
No man suspecting that he had done wrong.
|
Anon the Lord Courtney he spies in the street,
|
He comes unto him, and kisses his feet,
|
Saying, God save your honour, & keep you from ill
|
And from the hands of your Enemies still.
|
Amen, quod Lord Courtney, & therewith threw down,
|
Unto the poor Cripple an English Crown,
|
Away went the Cripple, and thus he did think,
|
Five hundred pound more will make me to drink.
|
In vain that hue and cry it was made,
|
They found none of them through the Country was laid
|
But this griev'd the Cripple night & day,
|
That he so unluckily mist of his prey.
|
Nine hundred pound this Cripple had got,
|
By begging and theiving so good was his lot,
|
A thousand pound he would make it he said,
|
And then he would give over his trade.
|
But as he striv'd his mind to fulfill.
|
In following his actions so lewd and so ill,
|
At last he was taken the Law to suffice,
|
Condemned and Hanged at Exeter size.
|
Which made all men amazed to see,
|
That such an impudent Cripple as he,
|
Should venture himself to such actions as they,
|
To Rob in such sort upon the High-way.
|
|
|
|
|
|