The cunning Northerne Begger, VVho all the By-standers doth earnestly pray,
To bestow a penny upon him to day.
To the tune of Tom of Bedlam.
I Am a lusty begger,
and live by others giving,
I scorne to worke,
But by the highway lurke,
And beg to get my living:
I'le 'ith wind and weather,
And weare all ragged Garments.
Yet though I'm bare,
I'm frée from care,
A fig for high preferments.
For still will I cry good your worship good sir,
Bestow one poore denier sir:
Which when I've got
At the Pipe and Pot,
I soone will it casheere sir.
I have my shifts about me,
Like
Proteus often changing
My shape when I will,
I alter still,
About the Country ranging:
As soone as I a Coatch sée,
Or Gallants by come riging,
I take my Crutch,
And rouse from my Couch,
Whereas I lay abiding.
And still doe I cry, &c.
Now like a wandring Souldier
(That has 'ith warres bin maymed
With the shot of a Gunne)
To Gallants I runne,
And begg sir helpe the lamed,
I am a poore old Souldier,
And better times once viewed,
Though bare now I goe,
Yet many a foe,
By my hath bin subdued.
And therefore I cry, &c.
Although I nere was further
Then Kentish street in Southwarke,
Nor ere did see
A Battery
Made against any Bulwarks,
But with my Trulis and Doxes,
Lay in some corner lurking,
and nere went abroad
But to beg on the road,
To kéepe my selfe from working.
And alwaies to cry, &c.
Anon I'm like a saylor,
And weare old Canvas cloathing,
And then I say
The Dunkerks away,
Tooke all and left me nothing:
Sixe ships set all upon us,
'Gainst which wée bravely ventur'd,
And long withstood,
Yet could doe no good,
Our ship at length they enter'd.
And therefore I cry good your worship good sir
Bestow one poore denier sir:
which when I've got,
at the pipe and pot, &c.
The second part,
To the same tune.
SOmetime I like a Criple
Vpon the ground lye crawling,
for money I begge,
as wanting a legge
To beare my corps from falling,
Then seeme I weake of body,
And long t'have béene diseased,
And make complaint,
As ready to faint,
And of my griefes increased,
And faintly I cry good your worship good, sir.
Bestow one poore desire sir,
which when I've got,
at the Pipe and Pot,
I soone will it casheere sir.
My flesh I so can temper,
That it shall séeme to feister,
And looke all or'e,
Like a raw sore,
Whereon I sticke a plaister.
With blood I daub my face then,
To faigne the falling sicknesse,
That in every place
They pitty my case,
As if it came through weakenesse.
And then I doe cry, &c.
Then as if my sight I wanted,
A Boy doth walke beside me,
Or else I doe
Grope as I goe,
Or have a Dog to guide me:
And when I'm thus accounted,
To th' highway side I hye me,
and there I stand
with cords in my hand,
And beg of all comes nye me.
And earnestly, cry good your worship good sir
Bestow one poore denier, &c.
Next to some Country fellow,
I presently am turned,
And cry alacke
With a child at my back,
My house and goods were burned:
Then me my Doxes followes,
Who for my wifes believed,
and along wee two
together goe,
With such mischantes grieved.
And still we doe cry good your worship, &c.
What though I cannot labour,
Shall I therefore pine with hunger
No, rather then I
Will starve where I lye?
I'le beg of the money monger,
No other care shall trouble
My minde, nor griefe disease me,
Though sometime the slash
I get, or the lash,
'Twill but a while displease me,
And still I will cry good your worship good sir
Bestow one, &c.
No tricks at all shall scape me,
But I will by my maunding,
Get some reliefe
To ease my griefe,
When by the highway standing:
Tis better be a Begger,
And aske of kind good fellowes,
And honestly have
What we doe crave,
then steale and goe to' th'Gallowes:
Therefore 'Ile cry good your worship good sir,
Bestowe one poore denier sir.
Which when I've got
At the Pipe and Pot,
I soone will it casheere sir.
FINIS.
Printed at London for F. Coules.