DEVOL's last Farewel: Containing an Account of many frolicksom Intreigues and notorious Robberies, which he committed: Concluding vvith his mournful Lamentation, on the Day of his Death.
To the Tune of,
Ʋpon the Chnnge.
Licens'd according to Order.
YOu bold undaunted Souls attend
To me, who did the Laws offend;
For now I come to let you know
What prov'd my fatal overthrow,
And brought my Glory to decay;
it was my Gang, for whom I hang,
Well-a-day, well-a-day.
Vnto a Duke I was a Page,
And succour'd in my tender Age,
Vntil the Devil did me intice,
To leave of Vertue, and follow Vice;
No sooner was I led astray,
but Wickedness, did me possess,
Well-a-day, well-a-day.
If I my Crimes to mind shou'd call,
And lay them down before you all,
They would amount to such a Sum,
That there is few in Christendom,
So many wanton Pranks did play;
but now too late, I mourn my fate,
Well-a-day, well-a-day.
Vpon the Road, I do declare,
I caus'd some Lords and Ladies fair,
To quit their Coach, and dance with us;
This being done, the Case was thus,
They for their Musick needs must pay;
but now at last, those Ioaks are past,
Well-a-day, well-a-day.
Another time, I and my Gang,
We fell upon a Noble-man;
In spite of all that he could do,
We took his Gold and Silver too
And with the same we rid away;
but being took, for death I look,
Well-a-day, well-a-day.
When I was mounted on my Steed,
I thought myself a Man indeed;
With Pistol cock'd and glittering Sword,
Stand and deliver, was the word,
Which makes me now lament and say,
pity the Fall of great
Devol,
Well-a-day, well-a-day.
I did belong unto a Crew,
Of as swaggering Blades as ever drew,
Stout
Whitherington and
Dowglis both,
We were all three engag'd by Oath,
Vpon the Road to take our way;
but now
Devol, must pay for all,
Well-a-day,
&c.
Because I was a Frenchman born,
Some Persons treated me with scorn;
But being of a daring Soul,
Although my Deeds was something foul,
My gaudy Plumes I did display,
but now my Pride, is laid aside,
Well-a-day,
&c.
I reign'd with an undaunted mind
Some years, but now at last I find,
The Pitcher that so often goes
Vnto the Well, as Proverb shows,
Comes broken home at last we say;
for now I see, my Destiny,
Well-a-day,
&c.
Then being brought to Iustice-hall,
Try'd and condemn'd before them all;
Where many noble Lords did come,
And Ladies for to hear my Doom,
Then Sentence pass'd, without delay,
the Halter fast, and
Tybourn last,
In one Day, in one Day.
London: Printed for C. Bates, in Pye-c [...]