A new Ballad, showing the great misery sustained by a poor man in Essex, his Wife and Children: with other strange things done by the devil.  
To the tune of, The rich Merchant man.  
 

A poor Essex man  
that was in great distress,  
Most bitterly made his complaint,  
in grief and heaviness:  
Through scarcity and want,  
he was oppressed sore,  
He could not find his children bread,  
he was so extreme poor.   

His silly wife God wot,  
being lately brought to bed,  
With her poor Infants at her breast  
had neither drink nor bread.  
A woeful lying in  
was this, the Lord doth know,  
God keep all honest virtuous wives  
from feeling of such woe.   

Oh Husband dear, she said,  
for want of food I die,  
Some succour do for me provide,  
to ease my misery.  
The man with many a tear,  
most piteously replyde,  
We have no means to buy us bread;  
with that the children cried.   

They came about him round,  
upon his coat they hung:  
And piteously they made their moan  
their little hands they wrung.  
Be still my boys, said he,  
and I'll go to the wood,  
And bring some acorns for to roast,  
and you shall have some food.   

Forth went the woeful man,  
a Cord he took with him,  
Wherewith to bind the broken wood  
that he should homewards bring:  
And by the way as he went,  
met Farmers two or three,  
Desiring them for Christ his sake,  
to help his misery.   

Oh lend to me (he said)  
one loaf of Barley bread,  
One pint of milk for my poor wife  
in childbed almost dead:  
Think on my extreme need,  
to lend me have no doubt,  
I have no money for to pay,  
but I will work it out.   

But they in churlish sort,  
did one by one reply,  
We have already lent you more  
than we can come well by.  
This answer struck his heart  
as cold as any stone:  
Unto the wood from thence he went,  
with many a grievous groan.   

Where at the length (behold)  
a tall man did him meet,  
And coal-black were his garments all  
from head unto his feet.  
Thou wrethched man (said he)  
why dost thou weep so sore?  
What is the cause thou mak'st this moan  
tell me and sigh no more.   

Alas, good Sir (he said)  
the lack of some relief,  
For my poor wife & children small,  
'tis cause of all my grief:  
They lie all like to starve  
for want of bread (saith he)  
Good Sir, vouchsafe therefore● give  
one penny unto me.   

Hereby this wretched man  
committed wondrous evil,  
He begged an alms and did not know  
he asked it of the devil:  
But straight the hellish Fiend,  
to him replied again,  
An odious sinner art thou then,  
that dost such want sustain.   

Alack (the poor man said)  
this thing for truth I know,  
That Job was just, yet never man  
endured greater woe.  
The godly oft do want,  
and need doth pinch them sore,  
Yet God will not forske them quite  
but doth their states restore.   

If thou so faithful be,  
why goest thou begging then?  
Thou shalt be fed as Daniel was,  
within the lion's Den,  
If thus thou do abide,  
the Ravens shall bring thee food,  
As they unto Elias did,  
that wandered in the Wood.   

Mock not a woeful man,  
good Sir, the poor man said,  
Redouble not my sorrows so,  
that are upon me laid:  
But rather do extend  
unto my need, and give  
One penny for to buy some bread,  
my children poor may live.   

With that he opened straight,  
the fairest purse in sight,  
That ever mortal eye beheld,  
Filled up with crowns full bright,  
Unto the woeful man  
the same he wholly gave,  
Who very earnestly did pray,  
that Christ his life might save.   

Well (quoth the dammed spirit)  
Go ease thy children's sorrow,  
And if thou wantest any thing,  
Come meet me here to morrow:  
Then home the poor man went,  
with cheerful heart and mind,  
And comforted his woeful wife  
with words that were most kind.   

The second part,  
To the same tune.  
 

TAke comfort Wife he said,  
I have a purse of Gold  
Now given by a Gentleman,  
most fair for to behold.  
And thinking for to pull  
his purse from bosom out,  
He found nothing but Oken leaves  
bound in a filthy clout.   

Which when he did behold,  
with sorrow pale and wan,  
In desperate sort to seek the purse,  
unto the Wood he ran,  
Supposing in his mind,  
that he had lost it there:  
He could not tell than what to think,  
he was twixt hope and fear.   

He had no sooner come  
into the shady Grove,  
The Devil met with him again,  
as he in fancy strove:  
What seekst thou here he said?  
the purse (quoth he) you gave:  
Thus fortune she hath crossed me,  
and then the devil said,   

Where didst thou put the purse?  
tell me, and do not lie,  
Within my bosom said the man,  
where no man did come nigh.  
Look there again (quoth he)  
then said the man I shall,  
And found his bosom1e full of Toads,  
as thick as they could crawl.   

The poor man at this sight,  
to speak had not the power,  
See (qd. the devil) vengeance doth  
purse thee every hour:  
Go cursed wretch (quoth he)  
and rid away thy life,  
But murder first thy children young,  
and miserable Wife.   

The poor man raging mad,  
ran home incontinent,  
Intending for to kill them all,  
but God did him prevent.  
For why the chiefest man,  
that in the Parish dwelled,  
With meat and money thither came,  
which liberally he dealt.   

Who seeing the poor man  
come home in such a rage,  
Was fain to bind him in his bed,  
his fury to assuage:  
Where long he lay full sick,  
still crying for his Gold,  
But being well, this whole discourse  
he to his neighbours told.   

From all temptations,  
Lord bless both great and small:  
And let no man, O heavenly God,  
for want of succour fall:  
But put their special trust  
in God for evermore,  
Who will no doubt from misery,  
each faithful man restore.    
FINIS.   

Printed at London for H. Gosson.