The Seaman's Song of Captain Ward

Gallants, you must understand,
Captain Ward of England,
A pyrate and a rover on the sea,
Of late a simple fisherman
In the merry town of Feversham,
Grows famous in the world now every day.

From the Bay of Plimouth
Sayled he towards the south,
With many more of courage and of might;
Christian princes have but few
Such seamen, if that he were true,
And would but for his King and country fight.

Lusty Ward adventurously
In the Straights of Barbary
Did make the Turkish gallyes for to shake.
Bouncing cannons fiery hot
Spared not the Turks one jot,
But of their lives great slaughter he did make.

The islanders of Malta,
With argosies upon the sea,
Most proudly braved Ward unto his face
But soon their pride was overthrown,
And their treasures made his own,
And all their men brought to a wofull case.

The wealthy ships of Venice
Afforded him great riches;
Both gold and silver won he by his sword.
Stately Spain and Portugal
Against him dare not bear up sail,
But gave him all the title of a lord.

Golden-seated Candy,
Famous France and Italy,
With all the countries of the Eastern parts,
If once their ships his pride with-stood,
They surely all were cloath'd in blood,
Such cruelty was plac'd within their hearts.

The riches he hath gain'd,
And by bloodshed obtained,
Well may suffice for to maintain a king ;
His fellows all were valiant wights,
Fit to be made prince's knights,
But that their lives do base dishonors bring.

This wicked-gotten treasure
Doth him but little pleasure ;
The land consumes what they have got by sea,
In drunkenness and letchery,
Filthy sins of sodomy,
Their evil-gotten goods do wast[e] away.

Such as live by thieving
Have seldome-times good ending,
As by the deeds of Captain Ward is shown :
'Being drunk amongst his drabs,
His nearest friend he sometimes stabs;
Such wickednesse within his heart is grown.

When stormy tempest riseth,
The Causer he despiseth,
Still denies to pray unto the Lord.
He feareth neither God nor devil,
His deeds are bad, his thoughts are evil,
His onley trust is still upon his sword.

Men of his own country
He still abuseth vilely ;
Some back to back are cast into the waves ;
Some are hewn in pieces small,
Some are shot against a wall;
A slender number of their lives he saves.

Of truth it is reported
That he is strongly guarded
By Turks that are not of a good belief;
Wit and reasons tell them
He trusteth not his country-men,
He shews the right condition of a thief.

At Tunis in Barbary
Now he buildeth stately
A gallant palace and a royal place,
Decked with delights most trim,
Fitter for a prince than him,
The which at last will prove to his disgrace.

To make the world to wonder,
This captain is commander
Of four-and-twenty ships of sayl,
To bring in treasure from the sea
Into the markets every day :
The which the Turks do buy up without fail.

His name and state so mounteth,
These countrey-men accounteth
Him equal to the nobles of that land;
But these his honours we shall find
Shortly blown up with the wind,
Or prove like letters written in the sand.