The Babes in the Wood "And so one morning up I rose, While yet the fields were wet with dew; And picked the nicest I could find, And brought them, fresh and sweet, for you. 179 "I know the gift is small, indeed, For such a lady to receive, But still I hope you'll not refuse Nancy Dennis Sproat [ ? ] THE BABES IN THE WOOD Now ponder well, you parents dear, Sore sick was he, and like to die, No love between these two was lost, In love they lived, in loved they died, The one a fine and pretty boy, Not passing three years old; The father left his little son, As plainly does appear, When he to perfect age should come, Three hundred pounds a year. And to his little daughter Jane "Now, brother," said the dying man, Be good unto my boy and girl, "You must be father and mother both, And uncle all in one; God knows what will become of them, With that bespake their mother dear, "You are the man must bring our babes To wealth or misery. "And if you keep them carefully Then God will you reward; But if you otherwise should deal, God will your deeds regard.” With lips as cold as any stone, They kissed their children small: "God bless you both, my children dear;" With that the tears did fall. These speeches then their brother spake To this sick couple there, "The keeping of your little ones, Sweet sister, do not fear; The Babes in the Wood 181 God never prosper me nor mine, The parents being dead and gone, And brings them straight into his house, He had not kept these pretty babes But, for their wealth, he did devise He bargained with two ruffians strong, That they should take these children young, He told his wife an artful tale, He would the children send Away then went these pretty babes, They should on cock-horse ride. To those that should their butchers be, So that the pretty speech they had, Full sore did now repent. Yet one of them more hard of heart, Because the wretch that hired him, Had paid him very large. The other won't agree thereto, So here they fall to strife; The babes did quake for fear! He took the children by the hand, And two long miles he led them on, While they for food complain: "Stay here," quoth he, "I'll bring you bread When I come back again." These pretty babes, with hand in hand, Went wandering up and down, Thus wandered these poor innocents, No burial this pretty pair Of any man receives, Till Robin-red-breast piously Did cover them with leaves. And now the heavy wrath of God Upon their uncle fell; Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house, His conscience felt an hell: God's Judgment on a Wicked Bishop 183 His barns were fired, his goods consumed, His cattle died within the field, And nothing with him stayed. And in a voyage to Portugal And, to conclude, himself was brought He pawned and mortgaged all his land And now at length his wicked act The fellow, that did take in hand You that executors be made, Of children that be fatherless, Unknown GOD'S JUDGMENT ON A WICKED BISHOP THE summer and autumn had been so wet, |