And eke there befel an accident,

By fault of a carpenter's son,
Who to saw chips his sharp axe lent,
Wo woeth the time may Lon-

May London say, wo woeth the carpenter,

And all such block-head fools,

Would he were hang'd up like a serpent here, For jesting with edge-tools.

For into the chips there fell a spark,
Which put out in such flames,
That it was known in Southwark,
Which lies beyond the Thames.

For lo, the bridge was wondrous high,
With water underneath,
O'er which as many fishes fly,

As birds therein doth breath.

And yet the fire consum'd the bridge,
Not far from place of landing;
And though the building was full big,
It fell down not-with-standing.

And eke into the water fell

So many pewter dishes,

That a man might have taken up very well

Both boil'd and roasted fishes.

And that the bridge of London town,
For building that was sumptuous,
Was all by fire half burnt down,
For being too contumptious:

And thus you have all but half my song,
Pray list to what comes after;
For now I have cool'd you with the fire,
I'll warm you with the water.

I'll tell you what the river's name is,
Where these children did slide-a,
It was fair London's swiftest Thames,
That keeps both time and tide-a.

All on the tenth of January,

To the wonder of much people,

'Twas frozen o'er, that well 'twould bear Almost a country steeple.

Three children sliding thereabouts,

Upon a place too thin,

That so at last it did fall out,

That they did all fall in.

A great lord there was that laid with the king, And with the king great wager makes:

But when he saw he could not win,

He seight, and would have drawn stakes.

He said it would bear a man for to slide,
And laid a hundred pound;

The king said it would break, and so it did,
For three children there were drown'd.

Of which one's head was from his shoulders stricken, whose name was John, Who then cry'd out as loud as he could,

"Oh! tut, -tut,-turn from thy sinful race,”

Thus did his speech decay:

I wonder that in such a case

He had no more to say.

And thus being drown'd, alack, alack,
The water ran down their throats,

And stopt their breath three hours by the clock,
Before they could get any boats.

Ye parents all that children have,
And ye that have none yet;
children from the grave,

Preserve

your

And teach them at home to sit.

For had they at a sermon been,

Or else upon dry ground,

Why then I would have never been seen,
If that they had been drown'd.

Even as a huntsman ties his dogs,

For fear they should go from him ;
So tie your children with severity's clogs,
Untie 'em, and you'll undo 'em.

God bless our noble parliament,
And rid them from all fears!
God bless all th' commons of this land,
And God bless some o' th' peers!

XXXI.

THERE was an old man in a velvet coat,
He kiss'd a maid and gave her a groat;
The groat was crack'd, and would not go,—
Ah, old man, d'ye serve me so?

XXXII.

THERE was an old man,

And he had a calf,

And that's half:

He took him out of the stall,

And put him on the wall;

And that's all.

XXXIII.

I'LL tell you a story,
About Jack a Nory;
And now my story's begun:
I'll tell you another

About Jack his brother,
And now my story's done.

XXXIV.

THE man in the moon,
Came tumbling down,

And ask'd his way to Norwich.

He went by the south,

And burnt his mouth,

With supping hot pease porridge.

XXXV.

THE man in the moon drinks claret,
But he is a dull Jack-a-Dandy;

Would he know a sheep's head from a carrot,

He should learn to drink cider and brandy.