Christmas Lamentation, For the losse of his Acquaintance, showing how he is forst to leaue the Country, and come to London. To the tune of, Now the spring is come.
CHristmas is my name, farre haue I gone,
Haue I gone, haue I gone, haue I gone,
without regard.
Whereas great men by flockes there be flowne,
There be flown, there be flown, there be flowne,
to London-ward.
Where they in pomp and pleasure doe waste,
That which Christmas was wonted to feast,
Welladay.
Houses where musicke was wont for to ring,
Nothing but Batts and Howlets doe sing,
Welladay.
Welladay.
Welladay.
where should I stay.
Christmas béefe and bread, is turn'd into stones,
Into stones, into stones, into stones,
and silken rags.
And Ladie money sléepes, and makes moanes,
And makes moanes, and makes moanes, and, &c.
in Misers Bags.
Houses where pleasures once did abound,
Nought but a Dogge and a Shepheard is found,
Welladay.
Places where Christmas Reuells did keepe,
Is now become habitations for shéepe
Welladay.
Welladay.
Welladay.
where should I stay.
Pan the Shepeards god doth deface,
Doth deface, doth deface, doth deface,
Lady Ceres crowne.
And tillage that both goe to decay,
To decay, to decay, to decay,
in euery Towne.
Land-lords their rents so highly inhance,
That Pierce the Plow-man, bare foot may dance,
Welladay.
And Farmers that Christmas would entertain,
Haue scarce where with themselues to maintain,
Welladay.
Welladay.
Welladay.
where should I stay.
Come to the Country man, he will protest,
Will protest, will protest, will protest,
and of Bull Béefe lost.
And for the Citizen hée is so hot,
Is so hot, is so hot, is so hot,
he will burne the rost.
The Courtier he good déeds will not scorne,
Nor will he sée poore Christmas forlorne,
Welladay.
Since none of these good déeds will doe,
Christmas had best turne Courtier too,
Welladay.
Welladay.
Welladay.
where should I stay.
The second part. To the same Tune.
PRide and luxury they doe deuoure,
Doe deuoure, doe deuoure, doe deuoure,
house-kéeping quite,
And beggery that doth beget,
Doth beget, doth beget, doth beget,
in many a Knight.
Madam forsooth in her Coach she must wheell,
Although she weare her hose out at héele,
Welladay.
And on her backe weare that for a wéed,
Which me and all my fellowes would féed,
Welladay.
Welladay.
Welladay.
where should I stay.
Since pride that came vp with yellow starch,
Yellow starch, yellow starch, yellow starch,
poore folkes doe want.
And nothing the rich men will to them giue,
To them giue, to them giue, to them giue,
but doe them taunt.
For charity from the Country is fled,
And in her place hath left nought but néed,
Welladay.
And Corne is growne to so high a price,
It makes poore men cry with wéeping eyes,
Welladay.
Welladay.
Welladay.
where should I stay.
Breefely for to end, here I doe find,
I doe find, I doe find, I doe find,
so great vacation,
That most great houses séeme to attaine
To attaine, to attaine, to attaine.
a strong purgation.
Where purging pills, such effects they haue shewd,
That forth of doores their owners haue spewed,
Welladay.
And where as Christmas comes by and calls,
Nought but solitary and naked walls,
Welladay.
Welladay.
Welladay.
where shall I stay.
Phelomes cottage was turn'd into gold,
Into gold, into gold, into gold,
for harboring Iove,
Rich men their houses for to kéepe,
For to kéepe for to kéepe, for to kéepe,
might their greatnesse moue.
But in the City they say they doe liue,
Where gold by handfulls away they doe giue,
Ile away.
And thither therefore I purpose to passe,
Hoping at London to finde the golden Asse,
Ile away.
Ile away.
Ile away.
for here's no stay.
Printed at London for F. C. dwelling in the Old-Bayly.