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OW ponder well ye parents dear,

the words that I shall write,

A dolefol story you shall hear,

was lately brought to light:

A gentleman of good report,

in Norfolk liv'd of late

Whose wealth and honour did surmount,

most men of his estate.

Sore sick he was and like to die,

and he no help could have.

His worthy wife by him lay sick,

they both possess'd one grave.

Betwixt the two no love was lost,

each was to other kind,

In love they liv'd in love they died,

and left two babes behind.

The one he was a pretty boy,

not passing three years old.

The other a girl, younger than he,

and made in beauty's mould.

The father left his little son,

as it doth well appear,

When he to perfect age should come,

three hundred pounds a year.

And to his little daughter, Jean,

two hundred pounds in gold,