Ballad Crying All Folk Mercy

Freres, be they white or be they grey ;
Nuns, mumpers, chanters awry that tread
And clink their pattens on each highway ;
Lackeys and handmaids, apparelled
In tight-fitting sur coats, white and red;
Gallants, whose boots o'er their ankles fall,
That vaunt and ruffle it unadread;
I cry folk mercy, one and all.

Wantons who all their charms display,
That so more custom to them be led,
Brawlers and jugglers and tumblers gay ;
Clowns with their apes and carpet spread;
Players that whistle for lustihead,
As they trudge it 'twixt village and town and ball;
Gentle and simple, living and dead, —
I cry folk mercy, one and all.

Save only the treacherous beasts of prey,
That garred me batten on prison bread
And water, many a night and day.
I fear them not now, no, not a shred ;
And gladly (but that I lie a-bed
And have small stomach for strife or brawl)
I'd have my wreak of them. Now, instead,
I cry folk mercy, one and all.

Envoi
So but the knaves be ribroasted
And basted well with an oaken maul
Or some stout horsewhip weighted with lead,
I cry folk mercy, one and all.