| For to see my Tom of Bedlam, 10, 000 miles I’d travel
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| Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes, to save her shoes from gravel.
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| Still I sing bonnie boys, bonnie mad boys,
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| Bedlam boys are bonnie
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| For they all go bare and they live by the air,
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| And they want no drink nor money.
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| I went down to Satin’s kitchen, for to beg me food one morning
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| There I got souls piping hot, all on the spit a turning.
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| There I picked up a cauldron, Where boiled 10, 000 harlots
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| Though full of flame I drank the same, to the health of all such varlets.
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| My staff has murdered giants, my bag a long knife carries
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| For to cut mince pies from children’s thighs, with which to feed the fairies.
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| Spirits white as lightning, shall on my travels guide me
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| The moon would quake and the stars would shake, when' ere they espied me.
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| The moon’s my constant mistress, and the lonely owl my marrow
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| The flaming drake and the night crow make me music to my sorrow.
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| When I short have shorn my sour-face and swigged my horny barrel
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| In an oaken inn, I pound my skin as a suit of gilt apparel.
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| It’s when next I have murdered, the Man-In-The-Moon to powder
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| His staff I’ll break, his dog I’ll bake, they’ll howl no demon louder.
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| So drink to Tom of Bedlam, he’ll fill the seas in barrels
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| I’ll drink it all, all brewed with gall, with Mad Maudlin I will travel. |