Subject: Lyr Add: THE BABES IN THE WOODS (from Bodleian)
From:
Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 14 Dec 06 - 04:54 PM
At the Bodleian, the illustration is scanned with the text.
THE BABES IN THE WOODS
(Bodleian broadside)
Now ponder well you Parents dear,
These words which I shall write,
A dismal Story you shall hear,
In Time brought forth to Light:
A Gentleman of good Account,
In Norfolk dwelt of late,
Whose Wealth and Riches did surmount,
Most Men of his Estate.
Sore sick he was and like to die,
No Help that he could have,
His Wife as sick as him did lie,
And both possessed one Grave;
No Love between these two were lost,
Each was to the other kind,
In Love they lived, in Love they dy'd,
And left two Babes behind.
The one a fine and pretty Boy,
Not passing three years old,
The other a Girl more young than he,
And made in Beauty's Mould;
The Father left this little Boy,
As plainly doth appear,
When he to perfect Age should come,
Three Hundred Pounds a-year.
And to his little Daughter Jane,
Five Hundred Pounds in Gold,
To be paid down on Marriage-Day,
Which might not be controul'd;
But if the Children chance to die,
E'er they to age should come,
Their Uncle should possess their Wealth,
For so the Will did run.
Dear Brother said the dying Man,
Look to my Children dear,
Be good unto my Boy and Girl,
No Friend else have I hear;
To God and you I do commend,
My Children Night and Day,
A little while before we have,
Within this world to stay.
You must be Father and Mother both,
And Uncle all in one,
God knows what will become of them,
When I am dear and gone;
With that bespoke the Mother mild,
O! Brother kind quoth she,
You are the Man must bring my Babes
To Wealth or Misery.
If you do keep them carefully,
Then God you will regard,
If otherwise you seem to deal,
God will your deeds reward;
With Lips as could as any Stone,
He kiss'd the Children small,
God bless you both my Children dear,
And then the tears did fall,
These speeches then their Brother spoke,
To this sick couple here,
The keeping of your Children dear,
Sweet Sister do not fear;
God never prosper me nor mine,
Nor nothing else I have,
If that I wrong your Children dear,
When you are laid in grave.
Their Parents being dead and gone,
The Children Home he takes,
And brings them both unto his House
And much of them he makes;
He had not kept these pretty Babes,
A Twelvemonth and a Day,
But for their Wealth he did devise,
To make them both away.
He bargained with two Ruffians rude,
Who were of furious Mood,
That they should take the Children young,
And slay them in a Wood.
Then told his Wife and all he had,
He did the Children send,
To be brought up in fair London,
With one what was his Friend.
Away then went these pretty Babes,
Rejoicing at the Tide,
Both being glad and merry mind,
They should on Cock-horse ride;
They pate and prattle pleasantly,
As they rode on the Way,
To those who should their Butchers be
And take their lives straitway.
So that the pretty Speech they had,
Made the Monsters Hearts relent,
And they that took this Deed to do,
Full sorely did repent.
Yet one of them more hard of Heart,
Did vow to do his Charge,
Because the Wretch that hired him,
Had paid him very large.
The other would not agree thereto,
So there they fell to Strife,
With one another hey did fight,
About the Children's Lives,
And he that was of mildest Mood,
Did slay the other there,
Within an unfrequented Wood,
Where Babes did quake for Fear.
He took the Children by the Hand,
Whilst tears flow'd in their Eyes,
And bid them come and go with him,
And look they did not cry,
And two long miles he led them thus,
While they for bread complain,
Stay here says he I'll bring you bread,
When I do come again.
These pretty Babes with Hand in Hand,
Went wandering up and down,
But nevermore they saw the Man,
Approaching from the Town,
Their pretty Lips with Black-Berries,
Were all besmear'd and dy'd,
And when they saw the darksome Night,
They sat them down and cry'd.
Thus wandered these pretty Babes,
'Til Death did end their Grief,
In each others Arms they dy'd,
As Babes wanting Relief,
No Burial did these pretty Babes,
Of any Man receive,
Till Robin Red-breast ainfully
Did cover them with Leaves.
And now the heavy Wrath of God,
Upon their Uncle fell,
Yes, fearful friends did haunt his House,
His Conscience felt a Hell,
His barns were fir'd, his Goods consum'd,
His Lands were barren made,
His Cattle dy'd within the Field,
And nothing with hin stay'd.
And in a Voyage to Portugal,
Two of his Sons did die,
And to conclude himself was brought
Unto much Misery:
He pawn'd and mortgag'd all his Lands
E'er seven Years came about,
And now at length the wicked Act
Did by this means come out.
The Fellow that did take in hand
Their Children for to kill,
Was for a Robbery judg's to die.
As 'twas God's blessed will,
Who did confess the very Truth,
The which is here express'd,
Their Uncle dy'd while he for Debt,
Did long in Prison rest.
All you that be Executors made,
And Overseers eke,
Of Children that be fatherless,
And Infants mild and meek,
Take your Example by this Thing,
And yield to each his Right,
Lest God with such like Misery
Your wicked Minds require.
The lines are run together in the broadside; I have separated them into eight-line verses.
Harding B4(32) or (33), no date (Prob. early 19th c.), Bodleian Ballads, The same, more copies, Johnson Ballads 2316-2321.
www.bodley.ox.ac.uk/ballads/ballads.htm
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