From the hag and hungry goblin
That into rags would rend ye,
The spirit that stands by the naked man
In the Book of Moons defend ye,
From the hag and hungry goblin
That into rags would rend ye,
The spirit that stands by the naked man
In the Book of Moons defend ye,
That of your five sound senses
You never be forsaken,
Nor wander from your selves with Tom
Abroad to beg your bacon,
While I do sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.
Of thirty bare years have I
Twice twenty been enragèd,
And of forty been three times fifteen
In durance soundly cagèd
On the lordly lofts of Bedlam,
With stubble soft and dainty,
Brave bracelets strong, sweet whips ding-dong,
With wholesome hunger plenty,
And now I sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.
With a thought I took for Maudlin
And a cruse of cockle pottage,
With a thing thus tall, sky bless you all,
I befell into this dotage.
I slept not since the Conquest,
Till then I never wakèd,
Till the roguish boy of love where I lay
Me found and stript me nakèd.
And now I sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.
When I short have shorn my sow's face
And swigged my horny barrel,
In an oaken inn I pound my skin
As a suit of gilt apparel;
The moon's my constant mistress,
And the lowly owl my marrow;
The flaming drake and the night crow make
Me music to my sorrow.
While I do sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.
The palsy plagues my pulses
When I prig your pigs or pullen,
Your culvers take, or matchless make
Your Chanticleer or Sullen.
When I want provant with Humphrey
I sup, and when benighted,
I repose in Paul's with waking souls
Yet never am affrighted.
But I do sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.
I know more than Apollo,
For oft, when he lies sleeping
I see the stars at bloody 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.
While I do sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.
The gypsies, Snap and Pedro,
Are none of Tom's comradoes,
The punk I scorn and the cutpurse sworn,
And the roaring boy's bravadoes.
The meek, the white, the gentle
Me handle, touch, and spare not;
But those that cross Tom Rynosseros
Do what the panther dare not.
Although I sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.
With a host of furious fancies
Whereof I am commander,
With a burning spear and a horse of air,
To the wilderness I wander.
By a knight of ghosts and shadows
I summoned am to tourney
Ten leagues beyond the wide world's end:
Methinks it is no journey.
Yet will I sing, Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.
Od hag i gladni goblina
Da u bi krpe deranja vi,
Duh koji stoji do golog muškarca
U Knjizi luna braniti vi,
Da vaše pet zvuk čula
Nikad se ne bi Forsaken,
Niti lutaju od vašeg sebe sa Tomom
Inozemstvu da mole slaninu,
Dok ja pjevati, Bilo hrane, bilo hranjenja,
Hranjenja, piće, ili odjeća;
Dođite dame ili spremačica, biti ne bojim,
Jadni Tom će povrijediti ništa.
Trideset Bare godina imaju I
Dva puta dvadeset bio besan,
I četrdeset je tri puta petnaest
U Durance čvrsto u kavezu
Na Gospodski golubarnicima Bedlam,
Sa strnjika mekan i osjetljiv,
Hrabar narukvice jaka, slatka bičevi ding-dong,
Uz zdrav glad dosta,
I sada pevam, Bilo hrane, bilo hranjenja,
Hranjenja, piće, ili odjeća;
Dođite dame ili spremačica, biti ne bojim,
Jadni Tom će povrijediti ništa.
Uz misao sam uzeo za Maudlin
I lonac od kukolja čorba,
Sa stvar tako visok, nebo vas sve blagoslovio,
zadesila sam se u ovo slijepa ljubav.
Nisam spavao od Conquest,
Do tada nisam probudio,
Do lopovski dječak ljubavi, gdje sam ležao
Me našli i stript me naked.
I sada pevam, Bilo hrane, bilo hranjenja,
Hranjenja, piće, ili odjeća;
Dođite dame ili spremačica, biti ne bojim,
Jadni Tom će povrijediti ništa.
Kada sam kratko su ogoljen lice moje Sow je
I swigged moje bure pali,
U hrastov Inn I funtu moja koža
Kao odijelo pozlaćenim odjeće;
Mesec je moja stalna ljubavnica,
I nizak sova moje srži;
The Flaming drake i noć vrana make
Meni muzika za moje tuge.
Dok ja pjevati, Bilo hrane, bilo hranjenja,
Hranjenja, piće, ili odjeća;
Dođite dame ili spremačica, biti ne bojim,
Jadni Tom će povrijediti ništa.
Paralize pošasti moje impulsa
Kada sam Prig svinje ili Pullen,
Vaš Culvers uzeti, ili bez premca make
Vaš Chanticleer ili Sumoran.
Kada želim provant sa Humphrey
I sup, a kada neprosvećenim,
počivati sam Paul sa buđenje duše
Ipak, nikada Ja affrighted.
Ali ja znam pjevati, Bilo hrane, bilo hranjenja,
Hranjenja, piće, ili odjeća;
Dođite dame ili spremačica, biti ne bojim,
Jadni Tom će povrijediti ništa.
Znam više od Apollo,
Za često, kada je on leži spavanje
Vidim zvezde na krvavih ratova
U ranjen WELKIN plače;
Mjeseca prihvati njen pastir,
I kraljica ljubavi njene ratnika,
Dok je prvi Allah je rog zvezda jutro,
I narednih nebeskog Farrier.
Dok ja pjevati, Bilo hrane, bilo hranjenja,
Hranjenja, piće, ili odjeća;
Dođite dame ili spremačica, biti ne bojim,
Jadni Tom će povrijediti ništa.
Cigana, Snap i Pedro,
Nijedan Tomove comradoes,
Punk I prezir i cutpurse zakleti,
I urlajući dečaka bravadoes.
Krotki, beli, pitome
Mene da sredim, dodir, i rezervni ne;
Ali oni koji krst Tom Rynosseros
Da ono što pantera usuđujem se.
Iako sam pjevati, Bilo hrane, bilo hranjenja,
Hranjenja, piće, ili odjeća;
Dođite dame ili spremačica, biti ne bojim,
Jadni Tom će povrijediti ništa.
Uz mnoštvo bijesni fantazije
Čega sam zapovjednik,
Sa gori koplje i konja vazduha,
U pustinju lutam.
By vitez duhova i sjene
pozvan sam do turnir
Deset ligama izvan kraj širokom svijetu:
Čini mi se da nije putovanje.
Ipak ću pjevati, Bilo hrane, bilo hranjenja,
Hranjenja, piće, ili odjeća;
Dođite dame ili spremačica, biti ne bojim,
Jadni Tom će povrijediti ništa.