Come worldling see what pains I here do take, To gather gold while here on earth I rake.  
What the Father gathereth by the Rake, the Son doth scatter with the Fork.  
 

COme, come my brave gold,  
Which I love to behold,  
come to me and I'll give you rest;  
Where as you may sleep,  
And I safely will keep  
you locked in my iron bound chest;  
No thiefs you shall fear,  
You in pieces to tear,  
such care of you still I will take,  
Come to me and fly  
Gold Angels I cry,  
And I'll gather you all with my Rake.   

Come silver and all,  
When as I do call,  
your beauties to me are so bright  
I love you so dear,  
I pray you come near,  
and be you not wavering or light,  
Your weight so you have,  
Come glistering and brave,  
than you I will never forsake,  
But heap you together,  
Against rainy weather,  
And gather you all with my Rake.   

Rich jewels and plate,  
By no means I hate,  
with Diamonds, Saphires, or rings;  
The Carbuncle red,  
Stands me in like stead,  
or any other rich things,  
The Emerold green,  
Like the spring that is seen,  
gold chains, or the like I will take,  
I have a kind heart,  
With my coin I will part,  
so I may get all with my Rake.   

But yet hear me, friend,  
No money I'll lend,  
without a good pawn you do bring,  
But I'll tell to thee,  
How a knave cheated me  
one time with a base copper Ring,  
With me it bred strife,  
It near cost me my life,  
half a crown on the same he did take  
But I'll have more care,  
Of such knaves to be ware,  
how such copper together I rake.   

On leases or lands,  
On very good bands,  
good security likewise provide,  
If we can agree,  
Then my coin it flies free,  
if not, your could suit is denied,  
To foe or to friend,  
No money I'll lend,  
as they brew, so let them bake,  
This rule I observe,  
Let them hang or starve,  
if I cannot get with my Rake.   

And those that do lack,  
To the height I do rack,  
I know that they money must have  
Some mortgage their lands,  
Which fall in my hands,  
to dominéere and to go brave,  
 
If they fail of their day,  
And have not to pay,  
a seizure on all I do make,  
Although I go bare,  
Yet I have a care,  
my gold and my silver to Rake.   

Let the poor widow's cry,  
Let their children dye,  
let their Father in prison go rot,  
What is that to me,  
Their wealth is my fee,  
for I have their livings now got,  
UUhole Lordships and Lands,  
Are fall'n to my hands,  
and use of them all I will make,  
My bags full of coin,  
And my purse I do line,  
with that which together I rake.   

Thus rich usury,  
ne'er thinking to dye,  
nor on his poor soul have a care,  
With one foot in the grave,  
Yet more wealth he doth crave,  
and his back and his belly doth spare;  
At whose cost he dine,  
With good cheer and wine,  
he cares not at whose hands he take,  
Not a penny hée'l spend,  
Nor without a pawn lend,  
The Devil and all he will Rake.   

But now comes grim death,  
And ceaseth his breath,  
his tree of life is weathered,  
This wretch so unkind,  
His wealth leaves behind,  
and is a poor worm being dead:  
But now pray give ear,  
To that you shall hear,  
his heir what a course he will take;  
That day he did dye,  
In his grave he did lie,  
And the Sexton the earth on him Rake.    

London printed for Henry Gosson 〈…〉   

Come Prodigals, yourselves that loves to flatter, Behold my fall, that with the Fork doth scatter.  
To the tune of, To drive the cold winter away.  

 
Room, room for a friend,  
That his money will spend,  
old Flatcap is laid in his grave,  
He kept me full poor,  
But now I will roar,  
his lands and his livings I have,  
The tide of gold flows,  
And wealth on me grows,  
he's dead, and for that 'tis no matter,  
Great use he did take.  
And for me did rake,  
which now with the fork I will scatter.   

I now must turn gallant,  
That have such a talon,  
what need I to take any care,  
I tell thee good friend,  
'Tis mine own which I spend,  
for I was my Fathers own heir:  
No Blade here shall lack,  
Give us claret and sack,  
hang pinching, it is against nature,  
Let's have all good cheer,  
Cost it never so dear,  
for I with my fork will scatter.   

Let me have a Lass  
That fair Venus doth pass,  
give me all delights that I may,  
I'll make my gold fly  
Aloft in the sky,  
I think it will never be day:  
Let the welkin roar,  
I'll never give o'er,  
Tobacco, and with it strong water,  
I mean for to drink,  
Until I do sink,  
for I with my fork will scatter.   

And let music play  
To me night and day,  
I scorn both my silver and gold,  
Brave gentlemen all,  
I'll pay what you call,  
with me I beseech you be bold:  
Dice run low or high,  
My Gold it shall fly,  
I mean for to keep a brave quarter,  
Let the Cards go and come,  
I have a great sum,  
That I with my fork will scatter.   

Let Carouses go round,  
Till some fall to the ground,  
and here's to my Mistress her health  
Then let's take no care,  
For no cost wée'l spare,  
hang money, I have store of wealth,  
My Father it got.  
And now fall'n to my lot,  
I scorn it as I do mortar,  
For coin was made round,  
To stand on no ground,  
And I with my fork will it scatter,   

My Lordships to sell,  
I think would do well,  
ill gotten goods never do thrive:  
Let's spend while we may,  
Each Dog hath his day,  
I'll want not while I am alive:  
Come Drawers, more sack,  
And see what we lack,  
for money I'll send a porter,  
Brave gallants ne'er fear  
For wée'l dominéere,  
For I with my fork will scatter.   

Come, drink to my friend,  
And let the health end,  
my Coffers and Pockets are empty,  
I now have no more,  
That had wont to have store,  
there's scarcity where there was plenty,  
My friends are all gone,  
And left me alone,  
I think I must now drink cold water:  
There's nought but sad woe,  
Upon me doth grow,  
Because with my fork I did scatter.   

Now this is the story,  
Of prodigal glory,  
who thought that he never should lack  
No drink nor no meat,  
Now he hath to eat,  
nor clothes for to put on his back:  
His friends they forsake him,  
And woe doth o'er take him,  
because he was too free of nature,  
That never did mind,  
How time comes behind,  
who mows, though with fork he did scatter.   

His leaves they grew green,  
But they were not seen,  
for Autumn them quickly did kill,  
Then let youth beware,  
And have a great care,  
and trust not too much to their will,  
Lest a prison them catch,  
Or a house without thatch,  
and glad of brown bread & cold water  
To God thanks le's give,  
And in a mean live,  
having a care how we do scatter.   
FINIS.  N. P.  

〈…〉 London Bridge.