Death's Uncontrollable Summons; OR, The Mortality of MANKIND. Being a Dialogue between DEATH and a YOUNGMAN. To the Tune of, My Bleeding Heart. ●N slumber and Sleep my senses failed, hay ho, hay ho, than slept I; ●he bright Sun raised a mist withal, 〈◊〉 eclipsed in the darksome Sky. ●n ancient Father stood by me, hay ho, hay ho, hollow eyes, 〈◊〉 foul deformed Wight was he I thought my youth did him despite. ●is Cloak was green his head was grey, hay ho, hay ho, silver hair, His Face was pale as any clay his Countenance made me much to fear. Amazed at the sudden sight, hay ho, hay ho, youthful boy; I stood as one amazed quite, hay ho, hay ho, dismal day, Father, quoth I, tell me your name, hay ho, high ho, tell me true, I pray you tell to me the same, my joints do tremble at thy view Young Youth, quoth he, I tell to thee hay ho, hay ho, thy thread is spun; My name is Death, I come for thee hay ho, hay ho, thy Glass is run. For me sweet Death I hope not so; hay ho, hay ho, I am young; Let me be old before I go, alas! my time hath not been long. I have this worldly wealth at will, hay ho, hay ho, ask and have, Let me enjoy those Pleasures still, oh my Soul abhors the Grave. I scorn thy Treasure and thy Pelf, hay ho, hay ho, haste away, Thy goods shall perish with thyself, 'tis not thy Wealth, my stroke shall stay. Oh Death! what will my true Love say? hay ho, hay ho, she'll complain On thee, for taking me away; sweet Death with her let me remain. I tell thee yet, thou strivest in vain, hay ho, hay ho, go 'tis time; Thy vital thread is cut in twain, oh hark and hear the dulsome Chime. Then woe is me! I must be gone, hay ho, hay ho, my heart, My World's delight and all is gone, there was never man so loath to parts. Mark well my Fall you youthful Buds; hay ho, hay ho, view my Fall, My Pleasures, Plenty Life and Goods, hay ho, hay ho, Death ends all. Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball in Pie-corner.