THE ORDINARY of NEWGATE’S ACCOUNT of the Behaviour, Confession, and Dying Words Of the SIX MALEFACTORS, VIZ. JOSEPH GUYANT and JOSEPH ALLPRESS for robbing the Mail, near Edmonton. WILLIAM SIDAY and WILLIAM PARIS for a Burglary and Robbery in the Dwelling-House
of MARY FISHER, Goswell-Street; AND JOHN ADSHEAD and BENJAMIN ALLSWORTH for a Burglary and Robbery in the Dwelling-House of MARY BELLAMY, Newman-Street, Marybone. Who were executed at TYBURN on Wednesday, July 8, 1772.
LONDON: Sold by LEWIS and BLADON, Paserroster-Row; KINGMAN, Royal-Exchange; and WAGSTAEF, Brick-Lane, Spital-fields.[Price 6d.]
TO THE PUBLIC.
In the course of the Publication of these papers, the public utility will be constantly attended too. The lives and examples of bad men are not without their use: With knowing what we are to fellow, we should have likewise what we are to shun. The snares that are laid for the artless and unsuspecting, the temptations held out to the daring and bold.
Such notices therefore will be brought to light as will best answer these purposes; avoiding what tends only to gratify an idle curiosity, or may prove a vicious incentive to young minds. In preserving the morals of the rising generation, we lay the best foundation for maintaining the future peace and safety of the community.
THE ORDINARY of NEWGATE’S ACCOUNT of the Behaviour, Confession, and Dying Words, &c.
BY virtue of the King’s commission of the peace, oyer and terminer, and goal-delivery of Newgate, holden for the city of London and county of Middlesex, at Justice-hall, in the Old-Bailey, before the Right Honourable William Nash, Esq . Lord Mayor of the city of London; George Perrot, Esq . one of the Barons of his Majesty’s court of exchequer ; Sir Richard Aston, Knt . one of the justices of his Majesty’s court of King’s-bench ; James Eyre, Esq . Recorder , and others of his Majesty’s justices of oyer and terminer of the city of London, and. goal-delivery of Newgate, holden for the said city and county of Middlesex, on the 3d, 4th, 5th, 6th, 8th, and 9th of june, 1772, in the 12th year of his Majesty’s reign, fifteen persons were capitally convicted, and received sentence of death for the several crimes in their indictments set forth, viz.
James Hancock, Thomas Adams, Edward Jones, John Adshead, Benjamin Allsworth, Edward Barry, William Siday, William Paris, Francis Mascado, John Hitchcock, Joseph Guyant, Joseph Allpress, John Waters, Charles Locket, and Mary Brayne.
And on Wednesday the 1st of July, the report of the said malefactors being made to his Majesty, by Mr. Recorder, eight of them were respited; namely,
It appeared in the course of their trials, that the post-boy, with one John Thomas, was near a place called Onsfield, about seven miles from London; when one of the prisoners stopped the horses, and swore that he would blow out his brains (meaning John Thomas, supposing at first that he was the guard) if he did not alight. After he had alighted the boy was ordered to turn round, and drive in at the gate, and the other was ordered to follow. Afterwards one of the prisoners tied their hands and legs, and promised that he would not hurt a hair of their heads: Inquiring for the key of the mail cart, and finding none, he went away. Soon after the mail-cart was broke open with an axe tempered to cut iron; from whence they took several of the bags; then one of them came back and desired them to sit still till they had loaded the their horses,’ and then they would come and release them, and give them five guineas. But this they never performed; for they left them in that situation until day-light, when John Thomas got himself loose, and untied the post-boy.
It appeared to the Jury, by the evidence of the witnesses called, so clear and satisfactory, that they brought in their verdict, Both guilty.
1. Joseph Guyant was born in Essex of honest and industrious parents who gave him that education as their circumstances could afford, and afterwards put him an apprentice to a country working-smith . Some time after he settled at Edmonton, near Enfield, as a master in that business, where he married and endeavoured to support his family in an honest way. But he met with a lots, which he looked upon to be the first step that led him to his ruin - He had been receiving money, and as he was returning home, two men met him, tied him to a tree, and robbed him of sixty guineas and an half in gold, eight shillings and six-pence in silver, and nine-pence in copper.
He was soon after arrested for the expences of suing the county for the recovery of his money, and other debts, and became a prisoner in the county goal, and afterwards in the fleet, until he was released. Being reduced to so low an ebb, he began to go out of a night with Allpress, a deer-stealing, and this they continued doing for some time. They agreed to break into the church at Edmonton, which they did; and afterwards committed the fact for which they suffered: These were all the material things that he did acknowledge, though he had been charged with several more; and I do not find, on examination, that any credit can be given to the other charges. Being questioned, What could be the motive of his committing this last robbery? He answered, To pay his debts to the full - and to have money
to carry on his business. I must leave the reader to make his own remarks.
His behaviour in general was decent, and he attended the service of the chapel constantly, until he was taken ill, which was a little before his execution, which at times deprived him of his senses. He hoped that God would have mercy on him, and he should die in peace and love with all mankind. He was 34 years of age*.
* see the Morning of Execution.
Joseph Allpress was born near St. Ives in Huntingdonshire of poor, but honest parents, who had him instructed in reading and writing, and when of age, he was put an apprentice to a country working smith ; which trade he followed as a journeyman: When he could not get any work at his own business, he used to be employed in draining of the fens, and in any kind of Husbandry for an honest livelihood.
Having an inclination to come nearer to London, he left the country and came to Edmonton last May was two years, where he was employed in different occupations. During his stay there, he worked at his trade with Joseph Guyant, who first enticed him from the paths of honesty.
The first step that led him to his ruin was, he went with him a deer steeling, and his master supplied him with money, as he wanted it, without doing any work; which he could not tell the reason of, until he had opened his mind to him, which was to rob the church at Edmonton; he at first was unwilling, but at last was persuaded, and did, with him, break into the church. Sometime after his master mentioned to him his intention of robbing the mail; that he should then have plenty of banknotes to pay his debts, and to carry on his business, and he would take care of him whilst he lived: To which he said, You know that I am no scholar, and I do not know what a bank-note is, for I never saw one in my life. But he made answer, That he would take care and get money for them, if he would go with him: He then was willing; and after his master had prepared an axe for the purpose of cutting the mailcart, he went with him and robbed the mail.
As there had been several robberies committed in Edmonton, he was asked, If he had ever been concerned in any of them? He declared, That he had not, or ever was concerned in any, but in those that he had mentioned. He owned that he and his master did one time go out with an intent to rob on the road, but they did not stop or rob any person, and then they went to their usual business of deer-stealing.
This was his general account whenever he was questioned, and I believe it may be credited, as he seemed to be a man more to be depended upon than his master; who more an once, since his confinement,
had endeavoured to charge innocent people, as concerned with him in robbing the mail.
His behaviour in general, was such as became his unhappy situation, and he constantly attended the duties of the chapel in a decent humble manner. He was ready to receive my instructions and advice, and frequently shed tears when he reflected on what he had done. He desired to be instructed in the design of the holy communion, for which purpose proper portions of scripture were read and explained to him, and he was duly satisfied with my admonitions on the subject, and warned not to dissemble.
He was admitted to the Lord’stable on Sunday the 5th of July, where he behaved as with a real sense of his crimes, calling upon God to have mercy on his soul. In this humble state of mind, praying for the forgiveness of his sins, he remained till the morning of his execution. He was 27 years of age.
It appears by the evidence of an accomplice, that they went to Mr. Brake’s, who keeps a public-house at the sign of the Sun-dial in Goswellstreet, about a quarter before seven in the morning, where they had a pint of beer. That the accomplice watched when his mother went out, and told Paris, Now it is time to go. That Paris went and opened the door with a false key, and went in, and Siday followed him; that he waited near the door, until he saw Paris come out with a box upon his head, and a great coat; that they afterwards went to Paris’s lodgings in a court in Grub-street, and there they opened the box, in which they found six guineas and a half in money, and the things mentioned in the indictment, the property of a lodger in his mother’s house.
William Siday was born in Shortstreet, near Moorfields, and served his time to a Printer ; which business he followed with diligence and attention, until within these three years; during that time he had been guilty of many burglaries. He particularly owned that he was concerned in the robbery of Mr. Greenfield, linen-draper, in Fleet-street; and that he (with his brother, and Luke Canon, since executed) committed the robbery in the house of Mr. Stafford. Being asked, if the maid-servant, who was suspected, let them into the house or not? He declared, that she was innocent, for it was Cannon, who had been a servant to Mn. Stafford, that proposed the committing the robbery, and as he knew the house, conducted them there; that they went down into the area, and got into it.
As soon as he found himself included in the death-warrant, with the other convicts, he wept and lamented much, was exceeding sorry for his past sinful life, acknowledged the justness of his sentence, and said that he had deserved to die before.
Finding him sincere in his confession, and desirous of being instructed in his preparation for eternity, proper scriptures were selected, daily opened, and applied to him. He gave due attention to my admonitions, and was frequently reminded, That he had now no friend but God, whose ears are ever open to the penitent; to whom he was exhorted to apply himself for peace, and reconciliation; and to whose mercy his soul was finally recommended, whilst his body was doomed to death: He daily frequented the chapel, and behaved there with serious attention and devotion. He was 22 years of age.
On the Tuesday before his execution he gave me a copy of a letter that he had sent to his Father, and desired that it might be made public: In compliance with his request the reader is presented with it:
'My dear Sir, WOULD to God I had followed the instructions that you gave me in the earlier part of my life; or I had taken warning by my late unhappy brother’s fate, I should not have brought myself to this untimely and shameful end.
I am condemned to die to-morrow for a robbery done in Mrs. Fisher’s house. Her son Tom was an evidence against me, whom you have formerly served with many kind offices. But it is now too late to repine at that. My whole desire is to find mercy and peace for my poor soul, and I labour diligently to get it. I do acknowledge sincerely my faults, and know my sentence is just; and I forgive Tom for what he has done, and hope he will take warning by me. I wish my brother had never seen Sal, for she has brought destruction on us all; but I forgive her, and hope that she will leave her wicked course of life, or else she must expect some time or other to suffer as well as others. Mr. Jen - gs has been good to me, and has brought me victuals every day; and Mr. Bur - tn has promised to bury me.
From my Cell in Newgate, July 7, 1772.
The fact was brought home to the prisoner by the evidence of an accomplice, connected with the evidence of the prosecutor, who proved the things to be part of that property of which he had been robbed.
This unhappy youth was an artist thoroughly practised in getting into houses by the assistance of pick lockkeys; for when he was taken up, there were several of that kind found upon him, which were produced in court on his trial.
As soon as he had received sentence of death, I visited him, and as he appeared to be a person of a better understanding than what is generally to be met with in such an unhappy situation; which gave me the greater hopes that he would be the sooner made sensible of his past misconduct in life, and employ his time in a proper manner for his future happiness. He seemed to be very attentive when any one offered to admonish him, and thankfully received their friendly advice.
Conversing with him one day, he said, That as there might be a false account of him published after his death, he would give me one drawn up by himself, which the reader is presented with:
'I was born in London, and bound an apprentice to a gold and silver wire-drawer , in New-street, Shoe-lane; where I staid but three years of my time; for I used to go out of a night with another young man picking of pockets on Ludgate-hill; and as it was known in the neighbourhood, I ran away from my master. From that time I followed pick-pocketting, gambling, and every thing that was bad in a low and mean way, until I became acquainted with many notorious housebreakers and robbers, many of whom I have followed to the place of execution; and yet did not take warning, I have been concerned in many burglaries; and have seen many hundred ounces of plate sold to the Jews, and other things of value besides. I have never been detected in house-breaking before, during the course of twelve years spent in thieving and robbing.
I acknowledge that I am not fit to live, and I forgive the evidence, and hope that he will employ his time better than he has done. I freely forgive every one, and I shall die in charity with all mankind.'
It is plain, by his own confession, that the suspicion of his being a notorious house-breaker and robber had not been groundless, though he had never been taken in the fact, or tried for an offence of that nature; yet many of his associates had, and suffered too.
As to his behaviour, at times it was light and indifferent; and I have been since informed, that was owing to the prospect he had of being respited.
When he was informed that he was to die with the other convicts, he seemed more calm, and employed his time as became a person under his circumstances. He was 30 years of age.
He wrote the following hymn and desired that it might be made public:
I. O God look down from thy abode, Give ear unto my cry; Speak peace unto our wounded souls, Though wretches doom’d to die.
Lord, now to us thy mercy shew, And pardon all our sin; That we in heav’n thy praise may sing, So vile tho’ we have been.
II. Lord, since we soon our lives must end, May our sins be all forgiv’n; That when the soul and body part, Our souls may soar to Heav’n. Tho’ we thro’ youth have gone astray, And have done nothing good; Yet thou, O Christ, forgive us can, And wash us with thy blood.
III. Black tho’ our conscience is with sin, We from our hearts all know, That sprinkled with this holy blood, We shall be white as snow. Lord, comfort all we leave behind, Our friends and parents dear; And may they put their trust in thee, And nothing need they fear:
IV. This ignominious death we die, Must surely pierce the heart, To think that we, poor wretched souls, So soon from them must part. Express those words to us, good Lord, You spoke when on the tree; 'All you that will come penitent, Shall sup this night with me.'
It seems that the prisoners broke into the house about the hour of one in the night, and stole a gauze sack and petticoat, with silk and gold flowers, value five pounds; three silk sacks and petticoats, value ten pounds; one silk night-gown, value forty shillings; one brocaded silk night-gown, value five-pounds; four yards of flowered muslin, value ten shillings; one chased gold outside watch-case, value four pounds; and other things the property of the said Mary Bellamy.
John Adshead was born in Northamptonshire, and never served his time to any trade. About four years ago he came to London, and lived in the capacity of a gentleman’s servant at several places. During which time he had saved some money, and not liking his station of life, and thinking that he could do better if he could learn some business; with this intention he applied to one in the gun-way to instruct him; for which he gave him ten guineas. At the expiration of the agreement with his instructor, he followed the business. But this new kind of life did not long agree with him; as he had been used to live easy, he did not like to work hard for his bread, nor could he bear confinement. Giving himself up to idleness, and his money being gone, he got acquainted with others
of the same stamp, and from that time went a house-breaking.
There being an enquiry made after him in town, he went down to Bristol; but there he could not be quiet, nor leave off his wicked course of life, though he had for the present escaped the hands of justice; for on Saturday, September 14, 1771, early in the morning, he got into the house of Mr. Isaac Hewlett, Watch-maker , in the Old-market, and took from thence things to the value of one hundred and fifty pounds. He owned that he unfastened the window-shutter, and by that means got in, and let himself out at the street-door.
He was desired to tell, to the best of his rememberance, what he had taken, and what became of them: He said, That he brought away with him nine silver watches compleat; several silver boxes and cases; a large silver tankard; a silver pint mug; spring and other tea tongs; silver shoe and stock buckles; stone, shoe, stock, and knee buckles; gold ear-rings; garnet and other stone and hoop rings; diamond rings; several gold seals, with a considerable number of other articles in the Jewellery way. That he brought them to London, and sold some, and pawned others. With the money he opened a public house in Princesstreet, Drury-lane, which he found in a little time would not answer, and he left it, and followed his old trade, until he was brought to the fatal tree. He would not give any particulars of the person that had bought the things, nor of the places where they were pawned; and his reason was, that they might not be brought into trouble, after his death, for it. Though it was represented to him as a part of his duty to tell, yet he never would; and when it was placed before him in the strongest light, that his repentance could not be looked upon as sincere and genuine; he generally answered, That he left that to God.
He was very reserved and artful, which appeared on his trial; for he persuaded Allsworth to deny the fact in his defence, whilst he "acknowledged that he was guilty, that it was his first offence, and his being a young man, he hoped that the court would shew him mercy." A proof of his art and cunnings, but it did not answer his expectation.
Little can be said of him during the time that he was under sentence of death. When he was not prevented by sickness, he went to chapel with the other convicts.
He continued in this reserved way until the morning of his execution, when there appeared greater signs of contrition, which are noticed in their proper place. He was 24 years of age.
Benjamin Allsworth was born at Birmingham, and served his time to a gun-maker in that place, which employment he followed some time there as a journeyman. Afterwards he came to London, and worked at his business until he entered a Drummer in the 85th regiment of foot.
He was in the expedition of Bellisle, and afterwards was in the service at Portugal. At the commencement of the peace his regiment was broke, and he was discharged from the king’s service. His behaviour, whilst he was in that capacity, has been well attested by his commanding officer in his discharge. After his discharge he returned to his business, and maintained himself by his industry. He soon afterwards married, and lived, in credit and reputation, and might have continued so, if he had not hearkened to Adshead’s counsel, and followed his way of getting money in haste. It happened that he became acquainted with him through the means of the person that had learned him the trade for ten guineas: Allsworth one day meeting him after he had left off working in the gun-way, well drest, asked him how he did, and what trade he now followed? The other replied, He followed no trade, that an uncle of his, a silversmith, had lately died, and left him money and stock in trade to a considerable value: (which proved at last to be no more than this, that he had got into the house of Mr. Isaac Hewlett, a silversmith , in the Oldmarket, at Bristol, and robbed him of part of his stock in trade) They renewed their acquaintance, and of course they must drink together. From that time, until a little before he committed the robbery with him, for which he suffered, he said, That he thought it was truth, and he had no reason then to believe to the contrary.
Adshead used frequently to call and see Allsworth, and as his family at that time was sickly, he kindly offered his assistance, to do them any service that he could. Allsworth then told him, That trade was slack, and the expences attending his sickfamily had made him run behind hand, and therefore should be obliged to him if he would lend him three or four guineas for the present, and he would take care to pay him when he had got work. To this Adshead replied, I have not got that money about me now, but I can put you in a way how you may get money in a hurry, twenty, thirty, or a hundred at a time, as I have done in a quarter of an hour! Allsworth desired him to explain himself. Why, says he, I told you that an uncle of mine, a silversmith, had lately died and left me money, and stock in trade to a considerable value; no such thing: When I left the gun-making business I went a house-breaking in town; but there being an hue-and-cry after me, I slipt down to Bristol, and went to work at the business, until I thought all enquiry after me in town was over - and then I got into a silversmith’s house, and robbed him of many things of value, which I brought to London. I and others have followed this lay for some time; there is no fear of putting off the things: no, if it was the king’s crown. - Come to night to my lodgings, and you shall be convinced that what I tell you is so. He accepted of the invitation, and went, and found there were some persons at first whose pro
session he did not know, who told him, that it was the only way to help himself, and be less beholding to his friends.
Being disappointed in the loan of a few guineas for a while, his family wanting, and the fear of being arrested, together with the fair speeches of his fellow convict, made him yield to his advice. But he should have preferred rather to be in goal for debt, than house-breaking.
He owned that he was concerned in this, and two other robberies in town, and in no more, or in any other place.
Being desired to ask him, If he knew any thing of the robbery in Bristol? he said, he was in town when it was done; and that Adshead told him, that he did it by himself. That Adshead had given him a watch (one that he had brought from Bristol) which he had pawned for a guinea; and the duplicate being found upon him, gave rise to the suspicion that he had been concerned with him. But that was the whole truth of the matter.
The general behaviour of this convict must be acknowledged was indifferent at times, as he fed himself up with a notion that his friends would save his life. He was frequently desired to tell, if he had ever heard Adshead declare who bought the things, or where they were pledged? he said, he did not, or if he did, he would not own it left that they might be brought into trouble.
Too much given like his fellow sufferer, to think that as his life was forfeited by the laws of his country, he had no right to make restitution, if in his power, to the injured party: By this manner of reasoning, the reader is left to form his own opinion on this convict's behaviour during the time of his being under sentence of death. He was 37 years of age.
Morning of Execution.
I VISITED the prisoners about half past six, when they were brought down from their cells.
Allsworth, Adshead, and Paris did not appear so serene and composed, as I could have wished to have seen them. Being asked how they did, and how they found themselves under their present alarming circumstances? Paris answered, He was very well, and found himself quite easy, indeed too much so, being little or nothing concerned, which he could not account for; but was rather sorry it was not otherwise with him. He thought he was worse now than he had been, even when the death warrant was first made known to him. After they had washed and refreshed themselves, their irons were loosened, to prepare them for going up to chapel. Being all ready we went up to chapel, with two or three christian friends, who attended. Guyant was so ill that it was with difficulty he was got up, being obliged to be assisted by two persons.
Before the administration of the sacrament, they were recommended in prayer to look to the bleeding Sacrifice, the Lord Jesus, for pardon and forgiveness of all their sins, and
to think of the awful hour to which they were now approaching.
They were then admitted to the holy communion, which they received, it is hoped, to their great benefit and comfort.
I should here have observed, that before it was administred to Guyant, he appearing, as it were, insane, or rather foolish, he was asked, If he knew the intent and meaning of that holy ordinance, and whether he was desirous of receiving it. He answered yes, and that he was very sensible what the intention of it was: What confirmed me the more in it was, that while he was assisted in getting up to chapel, he frequently repeated these words, 'Lord Jesus have mercy on me! Christ forgive me my sins!'
After the communion we sung an hymn suitable to their circumstances, in which they joined.
Being again severally asked, whether they were now resigned and ready to meet the awful change, which they, in a very short time, must experience? To which they answered but little.
They were then, as far as time would permit, recommended in prayer to the Lord, and desired that their minds might not be drawn off by any thing when going down from chaple, that their time was now but very short, and nothing in this world could afford them any comfort, they were therefore earnestly entreated to fix their attention on a crucified Saviour, who bled and died for them.
A little before nine they went down from chaple to the press yard to have their irons knocked off, to be pinioned, and put into the carts. While the officers were preparing them, Paris says, to one of his fellow sufferers, 'Well, come, we cannot help it, I hope we shall be better before night:’ And while his halter was fixing about him, one standing by, says to him, 'Paris, you little thought of this once.' He wantonly answered, 'No, I did not, and I will take care not to come to it again.' For which he was sharply reproved, and desired to think a little more of the approaching awful moment.
Orders came that the sheriffs were come, and they were once more reminded, not to regard any thing that passed around them. Siday, Paris, and Allpress were put in the first cart, Allsworth, Adshead, and Guyant went in the second. Allsworth burst into tears as soon as he got into the cart, wrung his hands, looking up to heaven for that mercy which he had forfeited and lost fight of in this world. Adshead behaved decently likewise: Paris wept as he was coming out of the Press-yard. This happy change for the better, was the more favourable to them now, when their hour was at hand, as they had lately been in a different temper, and felt the pangs of grief when it was more distant. Thus may all those, who now sow in tears, at length reap in joy.
They arrived at the place of execution a quarter before eleven; and when tied up, I went to perform the last office to them. I addressed myself to Guyant, and desired him to tell me the truth, as he would shortly
appear before God, Whether he was robbed or not ? and what money he did lose? He answered, Yes, I will tell you sir; and Allpress said to Joe, Do, it will be of no service to you now to tell a lie. He declared, that as he was a dying man, he was robbed, and mentioned the sum, as particularly as he had done before. That the loss of that money was the ground of all his misfortunes. Being again requested to tell, Whether he had secreted any one of the bags taken out of the mail-cart, as there had been such a report that he had? He said, Yes, I did, but Allpress knew nothing of it, for he did it after he was gone into the country. It was the Oundle bag, I think I put several bank notes into it, and buried it in a field, with some tiles upon it to prevent it being rotten. - There is no occasion for mentioning the place here, as information has been given to proper persons.
I asked Allpress, If he knew the place? He answered, Yes; and that he had spoke to Joe as he was coming down from his cell this morning, about it, and desired him to tell me of it. - I applied in the same manner to Allsworth and Adshead, and begged they would now inform me where the things were sold, or pledged; but they did not chuse to do it. - What a difference between these and the former!
Siday, Guyant, and Allpress acknowledged the justice of their sentence, and confessed, that they well deserved the death they were going to die. - Paris said, That he had been many times to see executions, and so far from taking warning by them, as soon as they have been over he has gone a drinking, and in the evening a thieving. - He knew that there were many of his acquaintances there now, and if one only, out of so many, would be warned by his example, he should die happy. For, says he, you may go on for two, three, or seven years prosperously, but you must come to it at last. When he had finished, he was asked, Whether he found himself better now than he had been before? he said, No, I am easy it is sure, but my heart is not as it should be, I want something more; and I hope I shall find it, even in my last moments: He was answered, That it was hoped he would be so.
Having made profession of their charity, and joined in prayer, they were recommended to the mercy of God. - We then parted, and they quickly suffered their sentence.
At the repeated request of Siday and Paris, the following lines are published, though it must be acknowledged, that they may seem contrary to the design of the publication of the lives of such persons; yet the public are desired to consider them as their request, they being printed verbatim from their own hand-writing.
PARIS’S ADVICE TO YOUTH.
1. LET priggs and flashmen, ev’ry one, Now listen to my song; And if they’ll take advice from me, It will their days prolong.
2. Some diving goes to get a bob, But often hobbled are; And if they to the patter come, If they’re not lagg’d tis rare.
3. There’s many youths go on this lay, That has not reach’d thirteen; Who picks your pocket as you pals, As daily may be seen.
4. Buzzing, my lads, is no sure game, As often you do see; For what you think may be a stanch, A hobby proves to be.
5. The bulk I know he slangs you too, Which I allow’s foul play; But they are often deeper hands, So you must not gainsay.
6. The cull likewise is sometimes down, Nay, often is the case, That you are in a horse pond dipp’d, Or ding’d in some nasty place.
7. But if the Cull should hobble you, Before the beak you take; Your mittimus will then be made To th’ keeper of Newgate.
8. When to that place you do come in, Your garnish you must pay; And then, my lads, you must be in Until the sessions day.
9. Before the Patter it comes on, You gammer what you’ll say; But when the judge is trying you, You’ll wish yourself away.
10. The prosecutor raps it hard, You ‘re lagg’d for seven years; And when you take leave of your friends, You can’t help shedding tears.
11. A ken-cracking there’s others go, And get many a pound; But when to th' Patter they do come, For the cross they’re knock’d down.
12. Those youths that venture on the scamp, You’ll say are much to blame; But since they all do respites get, Makes more follow the same.
13. As they are only to be lagg’d, They to Virginia go; And when they do land on that shore, They there tobacco hoe.
14. In America friends are scarce, Of foes you’ll have your share; The negroes they are better us’d, Which I say is not fair.
15. Up in the morning you must get By th’ rising of the fun; And work until it sets at night, Which is indiff’rent fun.
16. Instead of having wholesome food, You’re fed on Indian corn; And when too late, I know you’ll with You never had been born.
17. One shirt a year you are allow’d, As coarse as is a sack; Before you’ve worn it many days, 'Twill draw skin from your back.
18. But as for shoes and stockings, lads, You seldom do them wear; But go barefoot, all in the heat, Full eight months in the year.
19. Instead of dorsing with your cow, You in an out-house lay; You may sleep found by working hard But rise by break of day.
20. When you are lab’ring in the fun, You will your fate lament; And wish you’d took your friends advice, And ne’er a thieving went.
21. Your fate you’ll think is very hard, And so ‘twill be indeed; Before your time it is expir’d, ‘Twill cause your heart to bleed.
22. You’ll wish that you had wiser been, Your parents counsel took; You’d not have kept bad company, But wicked ways forsook.
23. But if that you should be so deep, To mizzle from that place; You can’t help coming to your Polls To shew your silly face.
24. If that in England you are seen, Before your time is out; You’re sentenc’d then to Newgate cells, Your candle there to doubt.
25. Let sharps likewise attention give, Who do the readers spin; And seldom meets a country flat, But what they take him in.
26. Sometimes I know they are so poor, A bone they clean could pick; But when a mouth falls in their way, They sack his Stephen’s trick.
27. Some do in fighting take delight, But are often at a loss; For you seldom see a bruising But what is on the cross.
28. Those that in the death-warrant are Condemned for to die; Full twenty-two hours in the cells Every day must lie.
29 The morning we to suffer are, You’ll say’s a shocking fight; That youths who are just in their prime, Will soon be shut from light.
30. O may the Lord his mercy shew To those unhappy men; And sprinkle on them his dear Blood, Tho’ they’ve so wicked been.
31. When to Sepulchre’s church they come, The bell will cease to toll; The tumbler stops, the bellman prays To th’ lord for your poor soul.
32. To see the cart move slowly on, Is a dismal sight to see; The people wringing of their hands All th’ way to the fatal tree.
33. When to that dismal place we come, To pray we are inclin’d; And beg the Lord would pardon us, That we may mercy find.
34. A speech, you know, is always made A warning for to take; That you may lead all better lives, And wicked ways forsake.
35. Then o’er our eyes the cap is pull’d, The cart is drove away; We men then drop, the mob disperse, Few’ll mind what we have said.
36. Then let all youths, of each degree, Their folly see ere long; For when they come to th’ lagg or cross, They ‘ll own they went on wrong.
37. My dear good friends, both great and small, Think of your latter end; And beg the Lord in time will give You grace for to amend.
38. When these lines first were wrote to you, ‘Twas little thought that I In Newgate cells should be confin’d, An ignominious death to die.
39. I hope the Lord will pardon me, For all my sins that’s past; And tho’ my heart it is so hard, Christ, soften it last!
The Lamentation of SIDAY and PARIS. Written by SIDAY.
1. GOOD people all, I pray give ear Unto these lines I’ve penn’d; And soon you’ll hear of our downfall, Which near is at an end.
2. We in the cells confined are, And so have been some time; And on to morrow we must die, I’ll now relate the crime.
4. Then up I got, away we went Unto Will Paris strait; And what he unto me had said, I did to him relate.
5. But Paris being not in health, I on the bed did lay; And Fisher sat up in the chair, Until the break of day.
6. Then up we got to take a walk Into the pleasant fields; Where Fisher he did then begin This secret to reveal:
7. ‘I have a mother lives just by, That’s us’d me ill of late; For which on her reveng’d would be, I say, at any rate.
8. ‘ A carpenter lives in the house, Which does my mother sway; And when i go her for to see, She’ll nothing to me say.
9. ‘My mother she to market goes, Early as at seven; And if you’ll go along with me, I will with him be ev’n.’
10. Away we went unto the house, And robbed him also, Of his money and his cloaths; For which die we must now.
11. His mother’s cloaths were in the draw’rs, Which we refus’d to touch; Altho’ to us it would been great, And brought us money much.
12. This thing it was so cleanly done, No one could find it out; If Fisher had not prov’d untrue, There would not been this rout.
13. On Wedn’sday suffer now we must, And hang on Tyburn tree; Altho’ ‘tis such an awful sight, Some dippers you may see.
14. But may our fate a warning be Unto all such young men; Who follow such unlawful ways Of bursting peoples kens.
15. For if you do, then come you must, And that you’ll plainly see; And when at Patter you are cast, You’ll hang on Tyburn tree.