The doleful Dance and Song of Death; entitled, Dance after my Pipe.  
To a pleasant new tune.  
 

CAn you dance the shaking of the Shéets,  
a dance that every one must do?  
Can you trim it up with dainty swéets,  
and every things that belongs thereto?  
Make ready than your winding shéets,  
And see how ye can bestir your feet,  
For Death is the man that all must meet.   

Bring away the beggar and the King,  
and every man in his degree,  
Bring away the old and youngest thing,  
come all to Death and follow me.  
The Courtier with his lofty looks,  
The Lawyer with his learned Books,  
The Banker with his baiting hooks   

Merchants, have you made your Mart in France  
in Italy and all about?  
Know you not that you and I must dance,  
both our heels wrapped in a clout.  
What mean you to make your houses gay,  
And I must take the tenant away,  
And dig for your sake the clods of clay,   

Think you on the solemn Sizes past,  
how suddenly in Oxfordshire,  
I came and made the judges all aghast,  
and justices that did appear.  
And took both Bell, and Baram away,  
And many a worthy man that day,  
And all their bodies brought to clay.   

Think you that I dare not come to Schools,  
where all the cunning C●erks be most,  
Take I not away both wise and fools?  
and am I not in every Coast.  
Assure yourselves no creature can,  
Make death afraid of any man,  
Or know my coming where or whon.   

Where be they that make their leases strong,  
and join about them land to land,  
Do you make account to live so long  
to have the world come to your hand.  
No foolish noll, for all thy pence,  
Full soon thy soul must needs go hence.  
Then who shall toil for thy defence.   

And you that lean on your Lady's Laps,  
and lay your heads upon their knee,  
Think you for to play with Beautis paps,  
and not to come and dance with me,  
No, fair Lords and Ladies all,  
I will make you come when I no call,  
And find you a Pipe to dance withal.   

And you that are busy-headed fools,  
to brabble of a pelting straw,  
Know you not that I have ready fools,  
to cut you from your crafty Law.  
And you that falsely buy and sell,  
And think you make your Markets well,  
Must dance with death wheresoe'er you dwell,   

P●●●e must have a pretty shéets, I see,  
for properly she loves to dance,  
Come away my wanton wench to me,  
as gallantly as your eye doth glance.  
And all good fellows that flash and swash,  
In rods and yellows of revel dash,  
I warrant you need nor be so rash.   

For I can quickly cool you all,  
how hot or stout soever you be,  
Both high and low, both greet and small▪  
Ay nought do fear your high degree.  
The Laidies fair the Beldames old▪  
The Champion stout, the soldier bold,  
Must all with me to earthly mould.   

Therefore take time while it is lent,  
prepare with me yourselves to dance,  
Forget me not, your lives lament▪  
I come often times by sudden chance,  
Be ready therefore watch and pray,  
That when my minstrel Pipe doth play,  
You may to Heaven dance the way.   
Finis.   

Printed for F, Coles, T. Vere, and W. ●i●bertson.