Near to his house, we understand,
He had a waste plat of land,
Which did but little profit yield,
On which he did a cottage build.
The Wise Man’s Project was its name;
There were few windows in the same;
Only one door, substantial thing,
Shut by a lock, went by a spring.
Soon after he had played this trick,
It was his lot for to fall sick;
As on his bed he did lament,
Then for his drunken son he sent.
He shortly came to his bedside;
Seeing his son, he thus replied:
‘I have sent for you to make my will,
Which you must faithfully fulfil.
‘In such a cottage is one door,
Ne’er open it, do thou be sure,
Until thou art so poor, that all
Do then despise you, great and small.
‘For, to my grief, I do perceive,
When I am dead, this life you live
Will soon melt all thou hast away;
Do not forget these words, I pray.
‘When thou hast made thy friends thy foes,
Pawned all thy lands, and sold thy clothes;
Break ope the door, and there depend
To find something thy griefs to end.’
This being spoke, the son did say,
‘Your dying words I will obey.’
Soon after this his father dear
Did die, and buried was, we hear.
PART II.
Now, pray observe the second part,
And you shall hear his sottish heart;
He did the tavern so frequent,
Till he three hundred pounds had spent.