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There's a recording of the song here:
https://soundcloud.com/ubermodo/tom-o-bedlam
A slightly more suitable set of lyrics are:
<song>
From the hagg and hungrie goblin
From the hagg and hungrie goblin
That into raggs would rend ye,  
That into raggs would rend ye,  
And the spirit that stands by the naked man  
And the spirit that stands by the naked man  
In the Book of Moones - defend ye!
In the Book of Moones - defend ye!
That of your five sound senses
That of your five sound senses
You never be forsaken,
You never be forsaken,
Nor wander from your selves with Tom
Nor wander from your selves with Tom
Abroad to beg your bacon.
Abroad to beg your bacon.


While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding,
While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding,
Feedinge, drinke or clothing,"
Feedinge, drinke or clothing,"
 
Sweet Cit'zens all, be not afraid,
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
 
Poor Tom will injure nothing.
Poor Tom will injure nothing.


Of thirty bare years have I
Of thirty bare years have I
Twice twenty been enraged,
Twice twenty been enraged,
And of forty been three times fifteen
And of forty been three times fifteen
In durance soundly caged.
In durance soundly caged.
On the lordly lofts of Bedlam,
On the lordly lofts of Bedlam,
With stubble soft and dainty,
With stubble soft and dainty,
Brave bracelets strong, sweet whips ding-dong,
Brave bracelets strong, sweet whips ding-dong,
With wholesome hunger plenty.
With wholesome hunger plenty.


While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding,
While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding,
Feedinge, drinke or clothing,"
Feedinge, drinke or clothing,"
 
Sweet Cit'zens all, be not afraid,
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
 
Poor Tom will injure nothing.
Poor Tom will injure nothing.


With a thought I took for Maudlin
With a thought I took for Maudlin
And a cruse of cockle pottage,
And a cruse of cockle pottage,
With a thing thus tall, skie blesse you all,
With a thing thus tall, skie blesse you all,
I befell into this dotage.
I befell into this dotage.
 
I slept not since the Marching,
I slept not since the Conquest,
 
Till then I never waked,
Till then I never waked,
Till the roguish boy of love where I lay
Till the roguish boy of love where I lay
Me found and stript me naked.  
Me found and stript me naked.  


While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding,
While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding,
Feedinge, drinke or clothing,"
Feedinge, drinke or clothing,"
 
Sweet Cit'zens all, be not afraid,
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
 
Poor Tom will injure nothing.
Poor Tom will injure nothing.


When I short have shorne my sowre face
When I short have shorne my sowre face
And swigged my horny barrel,
And swigged my horny barrel,
In an oaken inn I pound my skin
In an oaken inn I pound my skin
As a suit of gilt apparel.
As a suit of gilt apparel.
 
The moon's my constant 'panion,
The moon's my constant Mistrisse,
 
And the lowly owl my morrowe,
And the lowly owl my morrowe,
The flaming Drake and the Nightcrow make
The flaming Drake and the Nightcrow make
Me music to my sorrow.
Me music to my sorrow.


While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding,
While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding,
Feedinge, drinke or clothing,"
Feedinge, drinke or clothing,"
 
Sweet Cit'zens all, be not afraid,
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
 
Poor Tom will injure nothing
 
 
The palsie plagues my pulses
 
When I prigg your pigs or pullen,
 
Your culvers take, or matchless make
 
Your Chanticleers, or sullen.
 
When I want provant, with Humfrie
 
I sup, and when benighted,
 
I repose in Powles with waking souls
 
Yet never am affrighted.
 
 
 
While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding,
 
Feedinge, drinke 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 moone embrace her shepherd
 
And the queen of Love her warrior,
 
While the first doth horne the star of morne,
 
And the next the heavenly Farrier.
 
 
 
While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding,
 
Feedinge, drinke or clothing,"
 
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
 
Poor Tom will injure nothing.
Poor Tom will injure nothing.


 
The Bravo, Druj and Grendel
 
The Gipsie Snap and Pedro
 
Are none of Tom's companions.
Are none of Tom's companions.
The punk I skorne and the cut purse sworne
The punk I skorne and the cut purse sworne
And the roaring boyes bravadoe.
And the roaring boyes bravadoe.
The meek, the white, the gentle,
The meek, the white, the gentle,
Me handle touch and spare not
Me handle touch and spare not
But those that crosse Tom Rynosseros
But those that crosse Tom Rynosseros
Do what the panther dare not.
Do what the panther dare not.


While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding,
While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding,
Feedinge, drinke or clothing,"
Feedinge, drinke or clothing,"
 
Sweet Cit'zens all, be not afraid,
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
 
Poor Tom will injure nothing.
Poor Tom will injure nothing.


With a host of furious fancies
With a host of furious fancies
Whereof I am commander,
Whereof I am commander,
With a burning spear and a horse of air,
With a burning spear and a horse of air,
To the wilderness I wander.
To the wilderness I wander.
By a knight of ghostes and shadowes
By a knight of ghostes and shadowes
I summon'd am to tourney
I summon'd am to tourney
Ten leagues beyond the wild world's end.
Ten leagues beyond the wild world's end.
Methinks it is no journey.
Methinks it is no journey.


While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding,
While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding,
Feedinge, drinke or clothing,"
Feedinge, drinke or clothing,"
Sweet Cit'zens all, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.
</song>


Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
[[Category:Marches Music]]
 
[[Category:The Marches]]
Poor Tom will injure nothing.
[[Category:Music]]

Latest revision as of 16:46, 7 June 2022

There's a recording of the song here:

https://soundcloud.com/ubermodo/tom-o-bedlam

A slightly more suitable set of lyrics are:

From the hagg and hungrie goblin That into raggs would rend ye, And the spirit that stands by the naked man In the Book of Moones - 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 doe sing "any foode, any feeding, Feedinge, drinke or clothing," Sweet Cit'zens all, be not afraid, Poor Tom will injure nothing.

Of thirty bare years have I Twice twenty been enraged, And of forty been three times fifteen In durance soundly caged. On the lordly lofts of Bedlam, With stubble soft and dainty, Brave bracelets strong, sweet whips ding-dong, With wholesome hunger plenty.

While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding, Feedinge, drinke or clothing," Sweet Cit'zens all, 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, skie blesse you all, I befell into this dotage. I slept not since the Marching, Till then I never waked, Till the roguish boy of love where I lay Me found and stript me naked.

While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding, Feedinge, drinke or clothing," Sweet Cit'zens all, be not afraid, Poor Tom will injure nothing.

When I short have shorne my sowre 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 'panion, And the lowly owl my morrowe, The flaming Drake and the Nightcrow make Me music to my sorrow.

While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding, Feedinge, drinke or clothing," Sweet Cit'zens all, be not afraid, Poor Tom will injure nothing.

The Bravo, Druj and Grendel Are none of Tom's companions. The punk I skorne and the cut purse sworne And the roaring boyes bravadoe. The meek, the white, the gentle, Me handle touch and spare not But those that crosse Tom Rynosseros Do what the panther dare not.

While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding, Feedinge, drinke or clothing," Sweet Cit'zens all, 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 ghostes and shadowes I summon'd am to tourney Ten leagues beyond the wild world's end. Methinks it is no journey.

While I doe sing "any foode, any feeding, Feedinge, drinke or clothing," Sweet Cit'zens all, be not afraid, Poor Tom will injure nothing.