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THE WRECK OF THE LICHFIELD 215
Our mast we cut away, our wreck for to ease, And being exposed to the mercy of the seas ; Where one hundred and thirty poor seamen did die, Whilst we all for mercy most loudly did cry.
Two hundred and twenty of us got on shore ; No sooner we landed but strip'd by the Moors, Without any subsistence but dead hogs and sheep, That was drove on shore by the sea from the ship.
For seven days together we thus did remain, Our bodys quite naked for to increase our pain ; Till some Christian merchant that lives in the land, [He] sent us relief by his bountiful hand [sic],
Unto our fleet the same fate did share, [sic] Then unto Morocco we all marched there, Where they are captives in slavery to be, Till old England thought proper for to set them free.
When the black king we all come before, He stroked his long beard, and by Mahomet he swore, ' They are all stout and able and fit for the hoe, Pray to my gardens, pray let them go.'
We had cruel Moors our drivers to be,
By the dawn of the day at the hoe we must be ;
Untill four o'clock in the afternoon,
Without any remission, boys, work was our doom.
If that you offer for to strike a Moor, Straightway to the king they will have you before, Where they will basternade you till you have your fill, If that will not do, your blood they will spill.
So now in Morocco we shall remain, Untill our ambassador cross[es] the main ; Where our ransom he'll bring, and soon set us free, And then to Gibraltar we'll go speedily.
So now, my brave boys, to old England we're [bound], We will have store of liquors our sorrow to drown. We will drink a good health, success never fall [sic] [Bad] cess to the bawd and the whores of Kingsale. |
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