EBBA ID: 30655

British Library - Roxburghe 3.188-189
 
The Prodigal Son Converted, / OR / The Young-man return'd from his Rambles. / Wit ne're till now, was cry'd about the street, / At the low rate o a poor Penny sheet; / Sharp times will make sharp wits, not fear sharp tongues, / 'Tis we who money want which suffer wrongs; / You can't command a Poet with a frown / To write new Songs: but yours, for a Crown: / Here's that will please you sure, and much befreind ye. / You'll thank the Author, if the Devil be n't in ye.
Date Published 1640-1674 ?
Author
Standard Tune
Imprint Printed for R, Burton, at the Horse-shooe in West-Smithfield.
License
Collection British Library - Roxburghe
Pages 3.188, 3.189
Location British Library
Shelfmark C.20.f.9.188-189
ESTC ID
Keyword Categories
MARC Record
Additional Information
 Part 1Part 2
TitleThe Prodigal Son Converted, / OR / The Young-man return'd from his Rambles. / Wit ne're till now, was cry'd about the street, / At the low rate o a poor Penny sheet; / Sharp times will make sharp wits, not fear sharp tongues, / 'Tis we who money want which suffer wrongs; / You can't command a Poet with a frown / To write new Songs: but yours, for a Crown: / Here's that will please you sure, and much befreind ye. / You'll thank the Author, if the Devil be n't in ye.The Second part,
Tune ImprintTo a pleasant New Play-house Tune call'd The Delights of the Bottle, &c.To the same Tune.
First LinesTHe delights & the pleasures / of a man without care,First the Tavern me courted / to lend it some coin,
RefrainDebauches are sorrows, / and robs us of rest, / Tis temperate man / with enjoyment is blest. | These tickl'd my fancy / with vice all a-mode, / Then I must be riding / in that pleasant Road. [with variation]The fidlers to curse / and the drawers command / Is enough for those Fops / who no more understand. | Then home to her lodging / She might easily draw me, / My flames made me bold / that I car'd not who saw me. [with variation] | For swearing and cursing / in common discourse, / I thought, if left out, / made my language the worse [with variation] | Yet with a true friend / merry and jolly, / With a Bottle or two / I do count it no folly.
Condition
Ornament