¶ A very Lamentable and woeful discourse of the fierce floods, which lately flowed in Bedford shire, in Lincoln shire, and in many other places, with the great losses of sheep and other cattle. The u of October. Anno Domini 1570.  

ALl faithful hearts come wail  
Come rend your garments gay:  
Else nothing can prevail,  
To turn God's wrath away.   

¶ Of water's fierce and fell,  
And floods both huge and high:  
You may report and tell:  
Of places far and nigh.   

¶ Of Monster's very rare,  
That are unseemly borne:  
Which doth at large declare,  
We live as men forlorn.   

¶ We live and linger still,  
We wander quite astray.  
We want true Christians skill.  
To guide us in the way.   

¶ Full strange unseemly sights,  
We may behold and see:  
What misdefourmed wights,  
Of women borne there be.   

¶ Ouse bridge was lately lost,  
By force of roaring stream:  
Which many acrowne hath cost,  
In this our English realm.   

¶ Why should I make delay,  
Reciting of such acts?  
What need I more to say,  
Of vice and worldly facts?   

¶ As erst I did pretend,  
So forward will I glide:  
To tell the total end,  
What happened at this tide.   

¶ By rushing rivers late,  
In Bedford town not nay:  
Full many a woeful state,  
May yield to fast and pray.   

¶ At twelve a clock at night,  
It flowed with such a head:  
Yea many a woeful wight,  
Did swim in naked bed.   

¶ Among the rest there was,  
A woeful widow sure:  
Whom God did bring to pass,  
The death she did procure.   

¶ Widow Spencer by name,  
A sleep she being fast.  
The flood so rashly came,  
That she aloft was cast.   

Which seeing started up,  
Regarding small her pelf:  
She leapt beside her bed,  
And so she drowned herself.   

¶ The houses very strong,  
The cattle great and small:  
Were quickly laid along.  
And so they perished all.   

¶ The Geldings tall and brave,  
In stables rashly rolls,  
The Church was over flowed.  
In Bedford named Paul's.   

¶ The Gardens round about,  
The sheep in marsh or field:  
The river was so stout,  
They knew not where to shield.   

¶ The Cows and Oxen to,  
Were all drowned by force,  
They west not what to do:  
It had so small remorse.   

¶ O Lord this flood was strange,  
And none occasion why:  
The wether did not change,  
the wind was nothing high.   

¶ There was no store of rain,  
But very little sure:  
That we should thus sustain,  
the loss we did endure.   

¶ The Ark of father Noy,  
was had in mind as than:  
When God did clean destroy,  
Both woman child and man.   

¶ But that he promise made,  
When he did here remain:  
The world should never vade,  
By waters force again.   

¶ Else would we then have thought,  
The dreadful day of doom:  
Had been both shape and wrought,  
To drown us all and some.   

¶ Upon the Saboth day,  
We were amazed all:  
In Church we could not pray  
But in the judgement hall.   

¶ We all assembled there,  
With prayers most devout:  
To God with many a tere,  
To tame this river stout.   

No horse nor man could pass,  
Of business small or post:  
For issue none there was,  
No way but to be lost.   

¶ In Bedford town I know,  
This many a score of years:  
Did never rivers flow,  
To bring us in such fears.   

¶ By chance I came in place,  
This great mischance to tell:  
To end our crooked race,  
What fortune late befell.   

¶ Which tale no sooner done,  
Two men along did walk,  
Betwixt us we begun,  
to raise some further talk.   

¶ What Country men they were,  
I did request to know:  
They said of Lincoln shire,  
the certain truth is so.   

¶ Quod they your loss is small,  
But one hath lost her life,  
He asked what dame she was,  
I said one Spencer's wife.   

¶ In Lincolnshire (he said),  
We have sustained great loss,  
Our stomachs are decayed,  
That late so frolic was.   

¶ Our cattle in like case,  
Are drowned and cast away,  
For our offence in every place,  
the dumb beasts truly pay.   

¶ We have not scaped so,  
Both widow, man, and wife.  
Since first this flood did flow,  
Have gained loss of life.   

¶ When that the water seast,  
As I and more do know,  
There did from skies descend,  
A great and grievous snow.   

And so we parted then,  
Be wailing both together.  
Like poor and out cast men,  
This sudden change of wether.   

¶ In us therefore for shame,  
Let vice no more be seen:  
and eke ourselves so frame  
To serve a right our Queen.   
Finis.  
qd Richard. Tarlton.   

¶ Imprinted at London at the long shop adjoining unto Saint Mildred's Church in the Pultrye, by john Allde. 1570.