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There lived a 'prentice, once, in our city, And of the craft of victuals was he;
For in the whole town was no apprentice Who better knew the way to throw the dice
His master found this out in business there; For often-times he found the till was bare.
Till he was nigh out of his 'prenticehood, Though he was checked and scolded early and late,
Therefore he freed and cast him loose to go His own road unto future care and woe; And thus this jolly 'prentice had his leave.
Anon he sent his bed and his array To one he knew, a fellow of his sort,
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