Lyrics of 'Singing the Travels' by Schelmish

Well met, my brother dear, all along the highway riding
So solemn I was walking along
So pray come tell to me what calling yours may be
And I'll have you for a servant man.

Some serving men do eat the very best of meat
Such as cock, goose, capon and swan
But when lords and ladies dine, they drink strong beer, ale and wine
That's some diet for a servant man.

Don't you talk about your capons, let's have some rusty bacon
And aye, a good piece of prickled pork
That's always in my house, a crust of bread and cheese
That's some diet for a husband man.

When next to church they go with their livery fine and gay
And their cocked hats and gold lace all around
With their shirts as white as milk, and stitched as fine as silk
That's some habit for a servant man.

Don't you talk about your livery nor all your silken garments
That's not fit for to travel the bushes in
Give me a leather coat, aye, and in my purse a groat
That's some habit for a husband man.

So me must needs confess that your calling is the best
And will give you the uppermost hand
So now we won't delay but pray both night and day
God bless the honest husband man.