John o' Badenyon

When first I came to be a man,

Of twenty years or so,

I thought myself a handsome youth,

And fain the world would know;

In best attire I stept abroad,

With spirits brisk and gay,

And here and there, and ev'ry where,

Was like a morn in May.

No care I had, nor fear of want,

But rambled up and down;

And for a beau I might have pass'd

In country or in town:

I still was pleas'd where-e'er I went,

And when I was alone,

I tun'd my pipe, and pleas'd myself

With John of Badenyon.

Now, in the days of youthful prime,

A mistress I must find;

For love, they say, gives one an air,

And ev'n improves the mind:

On Phillis fair, above the rest,

Kind fortune fix'd my eyes;

Her piercing beauty struck my heart,

And she became my choice:

To Cupid then, with hearty pray'r,

I offer'd many a vow,

And danc'd and sung, and sigh'd and swore,

As other lovers do:

But when at last I breath'd my flame,

I found her cold as stone;

I left the girl, and tun'd my pipe

To John of Badenyon.

What next to do, I mus'd a while,

Still hoping to succeed:

I pitch'd on books for company,

And gravely tried to read;

I bought and borrow'd ev'ry where,

And study'd night and day;

Nor miss'd what dean or doctor wrote,

That happen'd in my way.

Philosophy I now esteem'd

The ornament of youth,

And carefully, thro' many a page,

I hunted after truth:

A thousand various schemes I try'd,

And yet was pleas'd with none;

I threw them by, and tun'd my pipe

To John of Badenyon.

And now, ye youngsters, ev'ry where,

Who want to make a show,

Take heed in time, nor vainly hope

For happiness below;

What you may fancy pleasure here,

Is but an empty name;

For girls, and friends, and books, and so,

You'll find them all the same.

Then be advis'd, and warning take,

From such a man as me;

I'm neither pope nor cardinal,

Nor one of high degree;

You'll find displeasure ev'ry where,

Then do as I have done;

E'en tune your pipe, and please yourself

With John of Badenyon.