Tom O' Bedlam's Song
For to see Mad Tom of Bedlam x
Ten thousand miles I traveled
Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes
To save her shoes from gravel.
Still I sing bonny boys, bonny mad boys
Bedlam boys are bonny
For they all go bare and they live by the air
And they want no drink nor money.
I went down to Satan's kitchen x
To break my fast one morning
And there I got souls piping hot
All on the spit a-turning.
There I took a cauldron
Where boiled ten thousand harlots
Though full of flame I drank the same
To the health of all such varlets.
My staff has murdered giants x
My bag a long knife carries
To cut mince pies from children's thighs
For which to feed the fairies.
No gypsy, slut or doxy
Shall win my mad Tom from me
I'll weep all night, with stars I'll fight
The fray shall well become me.
From the hag and hungry goblin
That into rags would rend ye,
All the sprites that stand by the naked man
In the book of moons, defend ye.
I know more than Apollo,
For oft when he lies sleeping
I see the stars at mortal wars
In the wounded welkin weeping.
The moon embrace her shepherd,
And the Queen of Love her warrior,
While the first doth horn the star of morn,
And the next the heavenly farrier.
On the lordly lofts of Bedlam
With stubble soft and dainty,
Brave bracelets strong, sweet whips, ding-
dong,
With wholesome hunger plenty.
The moon's my constant mistress,
And the lonely owl my marrow;
The flaming drake and the night crow make
Me music to my sorrow.
The spirits white as lightening x
Would on my travels guide me
The stars would shake and the moon would
quake
Whenever they espied me.
The palsy plagues my pulses
When I prig your pigs or pullen
Your culvers take, or matchless make
Your Chanticleer or sullen.
That of your five sound senses
You never be forsaken,
Nor wander from your selves with Tom
Abroad to beg your bacon.
I'll bark against the Dog-Star
I'll crow away the morning
I'll chase the Moon till it be noon
And I'll make her leave her horning.
And then that I'll be murdering
The Man in the Moon to the powder
His staff I'll break, his dog I'll shake
And there'll howl no demon louder.
I now repent that ever
Poor Tom was so disdain-ed
My wits are lost since him I crossed
Which makes me thus go chained
So drink to Tom of Bedlam x
Go fill the seas in barrels
I'll drink it all, well brewed with gall
And maudlin drunk I'll quarrel
Another Alternative Corus
But I will find Bonny Maud, merry mad Maud
And seek whate'er betides her
Yet I will love beneath or above
The dirty earth that hides her.
Thanks to German Santanilla, Jackie Sheen, and Brooke
Chappell for additional verses and the alternative chorus.
There are a lot of ways of arranging the verses. Put together
the food references and use the alternative chorus, and it
sounds like poor Tom is begging for his supper.