The world's Wonder.  
Or, A strange and miraculous work of God's providence, showed to a poor distressed widow and her seven small fatherl● children, who lived by a burnt six penny-loaf of bread, and a little water, for above seven weeks, in the wild of Kent.  
To the Tune of, Chevy Chase.  
 

TAke comfort Christians all,  
for never shall you see,  
The faithful sort forsaken quite,  
and left in misery,   

Who lives and loves to hear,  
the truth in each degree,  
The story of a widows plaint,  
let them give ear to me.   

Who by this widow here  
sufficient have been tried,  
The which was left both poor and bare  
when as her Husband died.   

And seven young Children small,  
upon her hands likewise,  
And knew not how to buy them bread,  
their hunger to suffice.   

She labours night and day,  
she spins and takes great pain.  
And many a thing to buy them bread,  
God knows she lays to pawn,   

But when this help did fail,  
as time consumeth all,  
Oh! than she knew not how to keep,  
her hungry Children small.   

Most Mighty God she said,  
cast down a tender eye,  
And suffer not thy servants here,  
in hunger for to die.   

Thou that the Ravens did send,  
Elias for to feed,  
When that he was in wilderness,  
in extreme want and need.   

And rained bread from Heaven,  
old Israel to preserve,  
And wouldst not in the lion's den,  
let Daniel pine nor starve.   

I know my Lord she said,  
thou didst five thousand feed,  
With five small loaves of barley bread,  
as we in Scripture read.   

And each one had enough,  
their hunger to sustain,  
And afterwards twelve baskests full,  
of scraps did still remain,   

I know my Lord she said,  
thou art so mighty still,  
And therefore every thing be done,  
according to thy will.   

Her prayer ended thus,  
Her children cried straight way,  
O mother dear give us some bread,  
we have eat none to day.   

Give me some bread said one,  
give me some bread said another,  
And thus the silly infant's flock,  
about their careful mother.   

The good soul hearing this,  
Persuades them to be still,  
O soon at night my Lambs quoth she,  
you shall have bread your fill.   

I will to market go,  
though corn be wondrous dear,  
And sell my Gown to buy a peck,  
If you will be quiet here.   
 

THe Children smiled at this,  
content they did remain,  
Good Mother every one could say,  
come quickly home again.   

Three miles this woman went,  
unto the Market-town,  
And for five shillings at the last,  
she sold her russet Gown.   

Who being glad in heart,  
to Market straight she hies,  
But there alas her purse was cut,  
ere any corn she buys,   

She cryeth out God wot,  
she weeps and makes great moan  
To every one that passeth by,  
her grief she makes it known.   

But yet behold and see  
here in her woeful case  
Her husband's brother he was one  
that sold corn in that place.   

This woeful Woman then,  
did him desire and pray.  
To trust her with one peck of corn,  
till the next market day.   

But he denies her flat,  
And thus he tells her plain  
I shall not have to serve my turn,  
till corn doth come again.   

More heed you might have took,  
unto your purse quoth he,  
And not to lose your money here,  
so fond and foolishly.   

These dogged answers cut  
this good soul to the heart,  
Especially when she did think,  
upon her infant's smart.   

Who sits and strives at home,  
poor souls but all in va●●e,  
Which of them should the high'st piece,  
of bread and butter gain.   

But far alas were they.  
from butter bread or cheese,  
Or any thing to comfort them  
that their poor Mother see's.   

But now behold God's work,  
as homeward she returned  
A baker's boy gave her a loaf  
which was in baking burned.   

She gave God thanks for that,  
and joyful in her hand  
She bears the bread home to her babes  
which waiting for her stand.   

She kisses them each one,  
and with a cheerful look  
And said we will to supper go  
when you have said your book.   

Mean time she makes a fire  
and apples therein throw,  
The widow and her seven Children,  
to supper sweetly go.   

The apples roasted well,  
and she doth cut them bread,  
On every piece most lovingly  
she doth the Apple spread.   

Instead of drink they had,  
a cup of water clear,  
And every child rejoiced much  
and said, here is good cheer.   

Behold when they had supped,  
for God their food did bless  
When they had supped and were sufficed,  
the loaf was never the less,   

For seven weeks' spa●e together  
as stories plainly spread,  
The widow and her seven children  
by this one loaf was fed.   

The Cut-purse-man I say,  
he broke his neck in Kent,  
Ere he of this poor widows coin,  
one single penny had spent,   

And yet behold and see,  
her husband's churlish brother,  
Which would not lend a peck of corn,  
to succour one or other,   

Had straight way after this,  
his corn clean washed away,  
All by a mighty flood that rose,  
before the break of day.   

The Gentle men and such  
which did this wonder see.  
Unto the widow gave such gifts,  
that never more wanted she,   

Take comfort Christians all,  
for never shall you see,  
The faithful sort forsaken quite,  
and left in misery.   
FINIS.   

London Printed for Grove on Snow-hill.