Tom o' Bedlam

"Who gives anything to poor Tom? whom the foul Fiend hath led through fire and through flame, Through ford and whirlpool, over bog and quagmire; That hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters In his pew; set ratsbane by his porridge; made him Proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting-horse over Four-inched bridges, to course his own shadow for a Traitor. Bless thy five wits! Tom's a-cold. O! do De, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirlwinds, Star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some Charity, whom the foul fiend vexes."

"Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the toad The tadpole, the wall-newt, and the water; that in The fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, Eats cow-dung for sallets; swallows the old rat, and The ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the Standing pool; who is whipped from tithing to Tithing, and stocked, punished, and imprisoned; who Hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to his Body, horse to ride, and weapon to wear, But mice, and rats, and such small deer, Have been Tom's food for seven long year."

"Old Man: 'Tis poor mad Tom. Edgar: And worse I may be yet: the worst is not So long as we can say, "This is the worst"."

"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."

"While I do sing "any food, any feeding, Feeding, drink or clothing?" Come dame or maid, be not afraid: Poor Tom will injure nothing."

"On the lordly lofts of Bedlam With stubble soft and dainty, Brave bracelets strong, sweet whips ding-dong, And wholesome hunger plenty."

"The Moon's my constant mistress And the lovely owl my marrow. The flaming drake and the night-crow make Me music to my sorrow."

"With an 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."

"I'll bark against the Dog-star, And crow away the morning; I'll chase the moon Till it be noon, And I'll make her leave her horning."

"I'll sail upon a millstone, And make the sea-gods wonder; I'll plunge in the deep, till I wake asleep, And I'll tear the rocks in sunder."

"To find my Tom of Bedlam, ten thousand years I'll travel. Mad Maudlin goes with dirty toes to save her shoes from gravel."

"My horn is made of thunder, I stole it out of Heaven, The rainbow there is this I wear, for which I hence was driven."

"Forth from my sad and darksome cell, From the deep abyss of Hell, Mad Tom is come to view the world again, To see if he can ease his distemper'd brain. Fear and despair pursue my soul. Hark! how the angry Furies howl! Pluto laughs, and Proserpine is glad, To see poor naked Tom of Bedlam mad. Through the woods I wander night and day To find my straggling senses."