THE
GOLDEN Farmer's
Last FAREWEEL
Who was arraigned and found Guilty of wilfull Murther, and likewise many noto-
rious Robberies; for which he received a due Sentance of Death, and was ac-
cordingly Executed on the 22d. of December, 1690 in Fleetstreet.
To the Tune of The Rich Merchant-man.
Licensed according to Order.
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UNto you all this day,
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my Faults I do declare,
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Alas! I have not long to stay,
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I must for Death prepare;
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A most notorious Wretch,
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I many years have been,
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For which I now at length must stretch,
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a just Reward for Sin:
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No Tongue, nor Pen can tell
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what Sorrows I conceive;
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Your Golden Farmer's last Farewell,
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unto the World I leave
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A Gang of Robbers then
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myself did entertain;
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Notorious hardy Highway-men,
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who did like Ruffians reign:
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We'd rob, we'd laugh, and joke,
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and revel night and day;
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But now the knot of us is broke,
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I that leads the way:
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No Tongue nor Pen can tell
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what Sorrows I conceive,
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Your Golden Farmer's last Farewell
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unto the World I leave.
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We Houses did beset,
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and robb'd them night and day,
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Making all Fish that came to Net,
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for still we clear'd the way;
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Five Hundred Pounds and more,
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in Money, Gold, and Plate,
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From the right Owner we have bore,
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but now my wretched State,
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No Tongue nor Pen can tell, etc.
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We always gagg'd and bound
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most of the Family,
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That we might search untill we found
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their hidden Treasury;
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Which if we could not find,
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a Pistol cock'd streightway,
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Presented at their Breast, to make
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them shew us where it lay:
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No Tongue nor Pen can tell, etc.
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I having run my Race,
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I now at last do see,
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That in much shame and sad disgrace,
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my Life will ended be:
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I took Delight to rob,
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and rifle rich and poor,
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But now at last, my Friend Old Mob,
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I ne'r shall thee more:
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No Tongue, nor Pen can tell;
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what Sorrows I conceive;
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Your Golden Farmer's last Farewell,
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unto the World I leave.
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The Bloud which I have spilt,
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now on my Conscience lies,
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The heavy dreadfull thought of Guilt
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my Senses do's surprize;
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The thoughts of Death I fear,
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although a just Reward,
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As knowing that I must appear,
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before the living Lord,
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No Tongue nor Pen can tell, etc.
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I solemnly declare,
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who am to Justice brought,
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All kind of wicked Sins that are,
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I eagerly have wrought;
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No Villains are more rife,
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than those which I have bred;
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And thus a most perfidious Life
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I in this World have led:
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No Tongue nor Pen can tell, etc.
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Long have I liv'd you see,
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by this unlawful Trade,
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And at the length am brought to be
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a just Example made:
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Good God my Sins forgive,
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whose Laws I did offend,
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For here I may no longer live,
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my Life is at an end:
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No Tongue nor Pen can tell
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what Sorrows I conceive;
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Your Golden Farmer's last Farewell,
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unto the World I leave.
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