The Lamentation of Seven Journeymen-Taylors, being sent up in a letter from Yorkshire and written in verse by a wit.  
Givinga true Account of a Wench, who being with-Child, laid it to seven Journeymen Tailors, who at length was forced to contribute each Man his Penny a day to defray this extraordinary Charge; with other Circumstances which this had like to have incurred upon the seven distressed Journeymen Tailors: This being published for the good of all Journeymen Tailors, lest they unhappily do fall in the like distress.  
To the Tune of, I am the Duke of Norfolk.  

Entered according to Order.   

 

ATtend and you shall hear,  
New News from Yorkshire,  
Of a Letter that was sent up in Rhyme;  
Wherein they plainly show,  
Seven Tailors Overthrow,  
And this was in Cowcumber time.   

These Tailors they agreed,  
And a Wench it seems they feed,  
That they all might have a finger in the Pie:  
Their Wits they were so wild,  
They got a Wench with-Child,  
And believe me it is no Lye.   

Then the Tailors and their Miss,  
Went before the justice,  
And all along the Street as they went,  
Then the People they did feet,  
And the Tailors stunk for fear,  
There was a most horrid Scent.   

O but when they did come near,  
Before the justice to appear,  
Their hearts they began for to fail,  
With many cruel fears,  
Hanging down their Ears,  
Like a Dog that had burnt his Tail.   

The Wench she made it out,  
That each Tailor had a bout,  
But yet could not certainly say,  
Whether William Tom or Dick,  
Or who might do the trick,  
So the Child to them all she did lay.   

The justice to them said,  
You have wronged this poor Maid  
Therefore then without any fail,  
You must bring to me,  
Some good Security,  
Or else you must all to a jale.    

The Tailor's answer To the JUSTICE.  
 
 

Good Sir hear us what we say  
We work for a Groat a day,  
And like your Worship we can earn no more,  
Though we have done amiss,  
I pray excuse us this,  
For we never did the like before.   

That's neither here nor there,  
For the Child you shall take care,  
And also the woman too indeed,  
They sent and got a friend,  
and soon did make an end  
The Tailors with the wench they agreed.   

As we do understand,  
Each Tailor set his hand,  
To give each man his penny a day,  
And thus among them all  
Their Charges was but small  
They went most contentedly away.   

But when they did come home,  
Their Wives did fret and some;  
For it seems they had heard of the thing,  
Their Tongues they did not spare  
But like Thunder in the air,  
They did make the whole Town for to King.   

Their Wives did huff and snuff,  
They did both kick and Cuff,  
That the Tailors was almost undone,  
Then all about the Town  
They did kick them up and down,  
The poor Tailors knew not where to run.   

Then to their wives they bowed  
And Solemnly they vowed  
If they would their fury refrain,  
than they would spend their lives,  
In pleasing of their Wives,  
And would never do the like again.   

Thus by this sad Disaster  
Their wives became their masters  
Which makes the poor Tailors now to mourn,  
For as we understand  
Their wives they bear command  
Now they dare not say their soul's their own.   

This Letter it was sent,  
With an honest good intent,  
To all the poor Tailors far and near,  
That they might mend their Lives,  
And prove honest to their Wives,  
Lest the like of this fell to your share.     

Printed for I. Deacon, at the angel in Guilt-spur-street.