Bell, book and candle shall not drive me back, When gold and silver becks me to come on.
Woe, destruction, ruin, and decay; the worst is death and death will have his day.
When you depart from me sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave.
How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!
O madam, my old heart is cracked, it's cracked!
Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare, To digg the dust encloased heare! Blest be the man that spares thes stones, And curst be he that moves my bones.