They set up shop in Honey Lane,
  And thither flies did swarm amain,
  Some from France, some from Spain,
    Train’d in by scurvy panders. 
  At last this honey pot grew dry,
  Then both were forced for to fly
    To Flanders, to Flanders.

Another to the tune of The Coranto.

  I peeped in at the Woolsack,
  O, what a goodly sight did I
  Behold at midnight chime! 
  The wenches were drinking of mulled sack;
  Each youth on his knee, that then did want
  A year and a half of his time. 
    They leaped and skipped,
    They kissed and they clipped,
    And yet it was counted no crime.

  The grocer’s chief servant brought sugar,
  And out of his leather pocket he pulled,
  And culled some pound and a half;
  For which he was suffered to smack her
  That was his sweetheart, and would not depart,
  But turned and lick’d the calf. 
    He rung her, and he flung her,
    He kissed her, and he swung her,
    And yet she did nothing but laugh.

Thus would he sing about cities and towns, and when any one called him, he would change his shape, and go laughing ho, ho, hoh! For his humours of begging he used this song, to the tune of The Jovial Tinker[15].

  Good people of this mansion,
    Unto the poor be pleased
  To do some good, and give some food,
    That hunger may be eased. 
  My limbs with fire are burned,
    My goods and lands defaced;
  Of wife and child I am beguiled,
    So much am I debased. 
  Oh, give the poor some bread, cheese, or butter,
    Bacon, hemp, or flax;
  Some pudding bring, or other thing: 
    My need doth make me ax[16].

  I am no common beggar,
    Nor am I skilled in canting: 
  You ne’er shall see a wench with me,
    Such tricks in me are wanting. 
  I curse not if you give not,
    But still I pray and bless you,
  Still wishing joy, and that annoy
    May never more possess you. 
  Oh, give the poor some bread, cheese or butter,
    Bacon, hemp or flax;
  Some pudding bring, or other thing,
    My need doth make me ax.

When any came to relieve him, then would he change himself into some other shape, and run laughing, ho, ho, hoh! Then would he shape himself like to a singing man; and at men’s windows and doors sing civil and virtuous songs, one of which I will sing to the tune of Broom[17].

If thou wilt lead a blest and happy life,
I will describe the perfect way: 
First must thou shun all cause of mortal strife,
Against thy lusts continually to pray. 
Attend unto God’s word: 
Great comfort ’twill afford;
’Twill keep thee from discord. 
Then trust in God, the Lord,
for ever,
for ever;
And see in this thou persever.