One day this poor boy to me was bound apprentice, Because of his being fatherless; I took him out of St. James' Workhouse, His mother being in deep distress I took him out of St. James' Workhouse, His mother being in deep distress. One day this poor boy unto me offended, But nothing to him I did say; Up to the main-mast shroud I sent him, And there I kept him all that long day. All with my garling-spikk I misused him, So shamefully I can't deny; All with my marling-spike I gagged him Because I could not bear his cry. His face and his hands to me expanded, His legs and his thighs to me likewise; And by my barbarous cruel entreatment This very next day this poor boy died. I asked my men if they'd release (?) me. If I'd give them golden store. Out of my cabin straightway they hauled me, A prisoner brought me on Bristol shore. And now in Newdigate I am confined, The writ of death I do deserve; If I had been ruled by my servants This poor boy's life might have been preserved. You captains all throughout this nation, Hear a voice and a warning take by me. Take special care of your apprentice While you are on the raging sea.