A ballad entitled, Prepare ye to the Plough,  
To the Tune, of Pepper is black.  
¶ The Queen holds the Blow, to continue good seed.  
Trusty Subjects be ready to help if she need.  

Look up my Lords, and mark my words,  
and hear what I shall sing ye:  
And Subjects all, both great and small,  
Now mark what word I bring ye.  
Parnaso Hill, nor all the skill,  
Of Nymphs or Muses feigned:  
Can bring about that I find out,  
By Christ him self ordained.   

Let wisdom be, as it is I see,  
A gift most worth the telling:  
Which never was, so brought to pass,  
Where Pagans' have been dwelling.  
Is now in fine, by power divine,  
Among us English planted:  
Which many a day, was kept away,  
And many a one it wanted.   

And by that wisdom, have we had,  
Such proof as yet was never:  
To judge and deem, both good and bad  
To our great comfort ever.  
Which scythes we have, now let us hold  
This Tutchstone is the trial:  
To beat the baggage from the Gold,  
and truth from false denial.   

And by this knowledge we do know,  
That every thing is vain:  
Beneath the son, which hear below,  
We covet to attain.  
Let not the sprite, give us delight,  
To labour and attend us:  
To seek to have, before our Grave,  
The joy that Christ may sand us.   

In seeking that, then must we not,  
Build on the Sandy Surges:  
Now sow our Seed, where every Weed,  
His grace and bounty urges.  
Nor put our hope, in Priest or Pope,  
In Mass or other matters:  
Or by our Dole, to save our Soul,  
With filling empty Platters.   

Or by a Pardon, to appease,  
The Surfeits of our sinning:  
Although our fathers, had all these,  
By wicked men's beginning  
Nor let us make our stock and store,  
A burden to accuse us:  
For doing so, so much the more,  
We tempt God to refuse us.   

Neither let us once presume so far,  
Of mercy or of meekness:  
To counterfeit, to make or mar,  
This Image or this likeness.  
That our forefathers did believe,  
Were Gods, to give and guide them:  
Such follies did the Christians grieve,  
and Pagans' now deride them.   

Remember once the latter law  
Left yet in Moses' Table:  
That Neighbourly to live in awe,  
It is most commendable.  
Then shouldst thou not desire to crave,  
Thy neighbours loss or lack:  
Neither excess desire to have,  
That puts thy soul to wrack.   

Neither Usury, nor use at all,  
Of women, wealth, or Wine:  
Neither of abundance, great or small,  
Ill gotten should be thine.  
Neither should contention, craft increase,  
Nor swearing bear the sway:  
Nor God unserved men as beasts  
Would break the Sabbath day.   

Then would the honour duly hit,  
To Parents Lord or King:  
Then would there be no doubt a whit,  
To have store of every thing.  
All this the new Law, with the old  
Doth Nip us to remember:  
Even as the frost, that waxeth cold,  
Doth Nip us in December.   

And as upon, a sudden heat,  
We soon forget that freezing:  
When God doth of his mercy great,  
Spare us for lack of losing.  
So let us think, as Summer shows  
Grene Grass to our delighting:  
We see that all the Grass that grows,  
Goth down with little smiting.   

And when the Mowyer comes to Mowe,  
'tis soon both Ripe and Rotten:  
This tale I trust, of high and low,  
Will never be forgotten.  
On God's good Book, then let us look,  
For that which never faileth:  
Without which book, by Hook, or crook,  
No worldly wit prevaileth.   

God save her grace that holds the Blow,  
To sow this trusty treasure:  
Though many a one be stubborn now,  
And Harrow it but at leisure.  
God grant that he that Harrowed Hell,  
In guerdon still may have her:  
And sand you grace, that think not well,  
Of God that so doth save her.   
W. Elderton.   

¶ Imprinted at London, in Fléetestréete, by William How, for Richard johnes: and are to be solds at his Shop, joining to the south-west door of Paul's Church.  
 printer's device incorporating double-headed eagle