Strange and wonderful News from NEWBERRY: Concerning a Youth that was Choked by Eating of Custard.  
Being a New Ballad to that New Tune, called; God Prosper long our Noble King, etc.  

1.  
LEt Tottenham Court and Islington,  
and Paddington also,  
Attend with Lamentation,  
unto a tale of woe.   

2.  
Although 'tis strange, 'tis true, no doubt,  
there's nothing can be newer,  
It is into the Newsbook put,  
there's nothing can be truer.   

3.  
Of many terrible sorts of Death  
you have often heard I wiss,  
But never heard in all my life,  
by such a cause as this.   

4.  
At Newberry, that fatal place,  
where many a man was Mustured,  
And lost his Life, O there it was  
a Youth was choked with Custard.   

5.  
There lived this pretty dapper youth,  
who was of middle stature;  
Chuf was his Name in very truth,  
and tender was his nature.   

6.  
Two pence in Custard did him choke,  
and brought his Courage down;  
When Death took him, good faith he took  
the Cream of all the Town.   

7.  
He with a Boy a Wager laid  
He would a Custard eat,  
Before the Boy should run so far,  
and back again retreat.   

8.  
The people all assembled were  
to see this piece of Wit,  
They both did meet, and started fair,  
one stepped, the other bit.   

9  
The Nimble Lad did run and laugh,  
so through the way he scoured,  
That he was coming back e'er half  
the Custard was devoured.   

10.  
The Eating Champion seeing this,  
much like Jack Puddings Bastard,  
Thrust t'other half into his Throat,  
so Choked himself with Custard.   

11.  
The suffocating Custard wrought  
within his Gullet so,  
That to the ground he tumbled down;  
a woeful overthrow.   

12.  
A spark of Fire consumes a House,  
small Poison makes one saint,  
A Sword will mortify a Whale,  
a Mouse, an Elephant.   

13.  
But never did I know the Chuff  
under my Lord Mayor's roof,  
Unless they brought it scalding hot,  
that was not Custard proof.   

14.  
Let this a Warning be to you  
that go to Islington,  
Custard will kill, Experience shows,  
as quick as any Gun.   

15.  
Beware you that on holiday  
abroad do feast your Wives,  
For you that feed on Custard go  
in danger of your Lives.   

Epitaph.  
To the Tune of Whittingtons' Bells.  

Under this Stone lies one  
Who wrought his Finis,  
And with a Trick of's own  
was killed with kindness:  
He died in such a case,  
no Death can match it,  
A Custard to him was  
Pap with a Hatchet.  
He might as well have been  
brained with a Silk Fan,  
As to lose his life in  
a little Milk-pan.  
Though the great Guns and Pikes  
have loudly blustered,  
There is no Weapon like  
Long Spoon and Custard.     

LONDON, Printed for Charles Corbet. MDCLXXXIV.