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Harding B-15 (341). Woodblock image of a man appears above the ballad title. One of two poetic ballads on source broadside. THE UNFORTUNATE LAD

London:H. P. Such, Machine Printer and Publisher, 177, Union-street, Broough, S.E.

As I was a walking down by the Lock Hospital,
 * As I was walkikng one morning of late,

Who did I spy but my own dear comrade,
 * Wrapp'd in flannel, so hard is his fate

Chorus. Had she but told me when she disordered me,
 * Had she but told me of it in time,

I might have got salts and pills of white mercury,
 * But now I'm cut down in the height of my prime.

I boldly stepped up to him and kindly did ask him,
 * Why he was wrapp'd in flannel so white?

My body is injured and sadly disordered,
 * All by a young woman, my own heart's delight.

My father oft told me, and oftentimes chided me,
 * And said my wicked ways would never do,

But I never minded him, nor ever heeded him,
 * I always kept up in my wicked ways.

Get six jolly fellow to carry my coffin,
 * And six pretty maidens to bear up my pall,

An I give to each of them bunches of roses,
 * That they may not smell me as they go along.

Over my coffin put handfuls of lavender,
 * Handfuls of lavender on every side,

Bunches of roses all over my coffin,
 * Saying, there goes a young man cut down in his prime.

Muffle your drums, play your pipes merrily,
 * Play the dead march as you go along,

And fire your guns right over my coffin,
 * There goes an unfortunate lad to his home. "Muffle" in the final stanza might be "Mufle"; unclear due to a flaw in the source.