A Lantern for Landlords.  
To the tune of the Duke of Norfolk.  
 

With sobbing grief my heart will break  
Asunder in my breast,  
Before this story of great woe,  
I truly have expressed:  
Therefore let all kindhearted men,  
And those that tender be,  
Come bear a part of this my grief.  
and jointly say with me,  

Woe worth the man, etc.   
Not long ago in Lincoln dwelled,  
As I did understand,  
A labouring man from thence set forth,  
to serve in Ireland:  
And there in Prince's wars was slain,  
As doth that Country know,  
But left his widow great with child  
as ever she could go.  
This woman having gone her time,  
Her husband being dead,  
Of two fine pretty Boys at once  
was sweetly brought to bed,  
Whereat her wicked Landlord strait,  
Did ponder in his mind,  
How that their wants he must relieve,  
and secure for them find  
For being borne upon his ground,  
This was his vile conceit,  
That he the mother should maintain,  
and give the other meat:  
Which to prevent he hied fast,  
unto this widow poor,  
And on the day she went to Church,  
he turned her out of door,  
Her household goods he strained upon,  
To satisfy the rent,  
And left her scarce a rag to wear,  
to wilful was he bend.  
Her pretty Babes that sweetly slept  
Upon her tender breast,  
Were forced by the Miser's rage,  
by nights in streets to rest.  
Quoth the, my husband in your cause,  
In wars did lose his life,  
And will you use thus cruelly  
his harmless wedded wife?  
O God revenge a widow's wrong,  
That all the world may know,  
How you have forced a Soldier's wife,  
a begging for to go.  
From Lincoln thus this widow went,  
But left her curse behind,  
And begged all the Land about,  
her maintenance to find:  
At many places where she came,  
She knew the whipping post,  
Constrained still as beggars be,  
to taste on such like roast.  
Aut weary of such punishment,  
Which she had suffered long,  
She daily thought within her heart,  
she had exceeding wrong:  
And coming near to Norwich gates,  
In griefs she sat her down,  
Desiring God that never she  
might come in that same Town,  
For I had rather live, quoth she,  
Within these pleasant fields,  
And feed my children with such food,  
as woods and meadows yield,  
Before I will of rich men beg,  
Or crave it at their door,  
Whose hearts I know are merciless  
unto the needy poor.   

The second part,  
To the same tune.  
HEr Boy's now grown to two years old  
Did from their mother run,  
To gather ears of Barley Corn,  
as they before had done,  
But mark what heavy chance befell  
Unto these pretty Elves,  
They happened into Lands of Wheat  
wherein they lost themselves.  

Woe worth, etc.   
And thinking to return again,  
They wandered further still,  
Fare from their mother's hearing quite,  
full sore against her will,  
Who sought them all the fields about,  
But labouring all in vain,  
For why, her children both were lost,  
and could not come again.  
The two sweet babes when they perceived  
The coal-black night drew on,  
And they not in their mother's sight,  
for her did make great moan:  
But wearied with the days great heat,  
They sat them down and cried,  
Until such time that arm in arm,  
these two sweet infants died.  
Their mother after three day's search,  
Resolved had her mind,  
That some good honest meaning man  
did both her children find:  
And therefore went to seek herself  
A service out of hand,  
Who chanced with that man to dwell,  
which owed this green wheat land.  
It fell out so in harvest time,  
This woeful widow then,  
Was at the reaping of the Wheat,  
with other labouring men,  
Where finding of her liveless babes,  
Almost consumed away,  
She wrung her hands and beat her breast  
but knew not what to say.  
The rumour of which woeful chance,  
Throughout the City told,  
Enforced many a weeping eye,  
the same for to behold.  
From whenre she was conveyed again  
To Lincoln bacl with speed,  
To prosecute the Law against  
the causer of this deed.  
But see the judgement of the Lord,  
How he in fury great,  
Did bring this Miser to distress,  
though wealthy was his seat.  
For when to Lincoln she was brought,  
The Caitiff he was gone,  
Of all his cursed family,  
remaining was but one,  
For first the house wherein she dwelled,  
Did prove unfortunate,  
Which made the Landlord & his friends,  
to marvel much thereat.  
For tenants four there dwelled therein  
A twelve month and a day,  
Yet none of them could thrive at all.  
but beggars went away:  
Whereas this miserable wretch  
Did turn it to a barn,  
And filled it full in harvest time,  
with good red wheat and corn,  
To keep it safely from the poor,  
Until there came a year,  
That famine might oppress them all,  
and make all victuals dear,  
But God forgetting not the wrong,  
He did the Widow poor,  
Sent down a fire from heaven,  
consumed all his store:  
By which this wicked miser man,  
Was brought to beggary,  
And likewise laid a grievous scourage  
upon his family:  
His wife she proved a cursed witch▪  
And burned for the same,  
His daughter now a Strumpet is  
at London in defame,  
At Leicester at the Sizes last,  
Was hanged his eldest son,  
For there consenting wickedly  
unto a murder done.  
His second son was fled away  
Unto the enemy,  
And proved disloyal to his Prince,  
and to his own Country.  
His youngest son had like mishap,  
Or worse in my mind,  
For he consented to a bitch,  
contrary unto kind,  
For which, the Lord without delay,  
Reigned vengeance on his head,  
Who like a sinful Sodomite  
defiled Nature's bed,  
For there were two great mastiff dogs,  
That met him in a wood,  
And tore his limbs in pieces small,  
devouring up his blood:  
Whereof when as his father heard,  
Most like a desperate man,  
Within a Channel drowned himself,  
that down the street it ran,  
Where as water could scarce suffice,  
To drown a silly mouse:  
And thus the ruin you have heard  
of him and all his house.  
The Widow she was soon possessed  
Of all the goods he left,  
In recompense of those sweet babe's  
mischance from her bereavest,  
Therefore let all heard-hearted men,  
By this example take.  
That God is just, and will be true,  
for woeful widow's sake.  

Woe worth the man, etc.    
FINIS.   

London Printed for john Wright.