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From ye hagg & hungry Goblin,
Yt into raggs would rend yee,
& ye spirit yt stand's by ye naked man,
in ye booke of moones defend yee
That of your fiue sounde sences,
you neuer be forsaken,
Nor wander from your selues with Tom,
abroad to begg your bacon
while I doe sing any foode any feeding,
feedinge drinke or clothing,
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
poore Tom will iniure nothing.
Of thirty bare yeares haue I
twice twenty bin enraged,
& of forty bin three tymes fifteene
in durance soundlie caged,
On ye lordlie loftes of Bedlam
with Stubble soft & dainty,
braue braceletts Strong, sweet whips ding dong
with wholsome hunger plenty,
& nowe I sing &c:
With a thought I tooke for Maudline
& a cruse of cockle pottage.
with a thing thus tall, skie blesse you all:
I befell into this dotage.
I slept not since the Conquest
till then I neuer waked,
Till ye rogysh boy of loue where I lay
mee found & strip't mee naked.
& nowe I sing &c:
When I short haue shorne my sowce face
& swigg'd my horny barrell,
In an oken Inne I pound my skin
as a suite of guilt apparrell,
The moon's my constant Mistresse
& the lowlie owie my morrowe.
The flaming Drake and ye Nightcrowe make
mee musicke to my sorrowe.
while I doe sing &c:
The palsie plagues my pulses
when I prigg yor: piggs or pullen
your culuers take, or matchles make
your Chanticleare or sullen,
When I want prouant th Humfrie
I sup, & when benighted,
I repose in Powles wth waking soules,
Yet neuer am affrighted.
But I doe sing &c:
I knowe more then Apollo,
for oft when hee ly's sleeping
I see ye starrs att bloudie warres
in ye wounded welkin weeping,
The moone embrace her shepheard
& ye queene of loue her warryer,
while ye first doth horne, ye star of morne:
& ye next ye heauenly Farrier.
While I doe singe &c:
The Gipsie snap & Pedro
are none of Toms Comradoes,
ye punck I skorne, & ye cutpurse sworn
& ye roring boyes brauadoes,
The meeke ye white the gentle,
mee handle touch, & spare not
but those yt crosse Tom Rynosseross
doe what ye Panther dare not.
Although I sing &c:
with an hoast of furious fancies
whereof I am comaunder,
with a burning speare, & a horse of aire,
to the wildernesse I wander.
By a knight of ghostes & shadowes,
I sumon'd am to Tourney.
ten leagues beyond the wide worlds end
mee thinke it is noe iourney.
yet will I sing &c:
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