Jack the plough-lads lamentation his master has forsaken the plough and the cart, which grieves poor Iack unto the heart, for night and day he doth sorely complain, and doth wish that his master would come home again. Robins, Thomas. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription B43840 of text R182817 in the English Short Title Catalog. Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 6KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 B43840 625106316 ocn 625106316 Wing R1650A

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 Early English books online text creation partnership. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. B43840) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 211258) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English Books, 1641-1700 ; 2968:19[26]) Jack the plough-lads lamentation his master has forsaken the plough and the cart, which grieves poor Iack unto the heart, for night and day he doth sorely complain, and doth wish that his master would come home again. Robins, Thomas. 1 folded sheet ([2] p.) : ill. (woodcuts). Printed for Richard Burton, London : 1654. Caption title. In verse. Signed at end: T.R. Imprint from colophon. Author's name suggested by Wing (2nd ed.). Imperfect: faint print with slight loss of text. "To the tune of, Prentices fuddle no more." Item 26 of 32 at reel 2968:19. Reproduction of original in: British Library.

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 eng Ballads, English -- 17th century. Broadsides -- England -- 17th century. eebo Jack the plough-lads lamentation :his master has forsaken the plough and the cart, which grieves poor Iack unto the heart, for night and day he doth s Robins, Thomas, active 1672-1685. 1654 2 899 7 0 0 0 0 0 77.86 D The rate of 77.86 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the D category of texts with between 35 and 100 defects per 10,000 words. 2014-07 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2014-10 Sampled and proofread 2014-10 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2015-03 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
JACK the Plough-Lads LAMENTATION : His Master has forsaken the Plough and the Cart , Which grieves poor IACK unto the heart , For night and day he doth sorely complain , And doth wish that his Master would come home again . To the Tune of , Prentices fuddle no more .

GEntlemen , Gentlemen , listen to my Ditty , and a prety new siory I to you will sing , No harm I do mean to Town nor to City ; But I wish us good tydings to come this Spring : Or he that has most will soon have but little . Poor England is gotten to such a mad strain , Rich jack with poor Gill may walk to the Spittle . To pray for good tydings to come o're the main . For I am a poore Plough-lad , and in great distresse My Master is gone alas ! what shall I do , And I a poor Servant here sorely opprest , Great loads and taxations I am brought unto ; Yet on 't I livy well as many can tell , My land in good ●●●lage my self to maintain ; Now every ●●●●un threatens me for to pillage , But I would that my Master would come home again . Gentlemen , Gentlemen , I could well think on it , If that my Master would come home again , Though it may be there is some would look sadly on it , Yet he that is honest would never complain : A Servant that s true , his joys would renew ; But he that is rotten be sure would complain , But if it were faulty , it were best to be packing . If that my Master should come home again . Countrey-man , Cuntrey-man , that hears my Ditty Lissen unto me , mark what I shall say , Ther 's no honest man in Town nor in Citty , But if he be bound then he must obey : His gold and his money he must not spare , The Cause of poor England for to maintain , And the wéeping-crosse may sall to his share , But I would that my Master would come home agai● Yeomandry , Yeomandry , to you I call , Lissen unto me as well as the rest ; Your lands and your livings be they great or small , Your fortune's to pay here as well as the rest : Though Canons be roaring , and Bullets be flying , And legs and Armes doth fly in the main , Men still must stand to it and never fear dying . But I would that my master would come home .
The second part , To the same Tune .

ANd as for us Plough-men as well as the rest , Much sorrow comes to us : yet for us now pray , We do not withstand , but must pay with the best , If for it we work , I say , both night and day : To the Plough and Cart with a heavy heart , To stir up our ground , and to save our Grain ; So small is our share that fals to our part , Would God that my Master would come home again . Thus like to the Ant and the painful Bee . We labor and toyl all the days of our life , Though small to be got , we must give a great fee , Nay , I could say more , but I love no strife : Yet few there be , but may understand The truth of my Ditty why I do complain : Yet I wish true Peace would pity this Land , Would God that my Master would come home again , And now for all Trades-men that lives in the City , I wish you good fortune as well as the rest ; I pray you consider well of this my Ditty , And th●n you may see who is the most opprest : For we with hard labor our money do get , With toyling and moyling in sorrow and pain , No sooner we have it but from us irs fet . But I wou●d thus my Mast●r would come home again . O my Master is gone , and my Mistris too , And I am despised by every Clown . My sorrows increase , alas ! what shall I do , No pleasure I finde in City nor Town : For I do lament , and sorely repent , The losse of my Master it will be my bane Though some do rejoyce , I am discontent Would God that my Master would come home again . And now to conclude , and end this my Ditty , The truth of my minde I here have made known , All honest Plough-men in Town or in City , May well understand why I make this mone : For my Master i● fled , and Love banished , Small truth in this world I see for to rain , No pleasure I find at beonor at boord , Vntil that my Master doth come home again .
T.R.
FINIS .

LONDON , Printed for Richard Burton . 1654.