In the Wilds of Kent.

 

The Witch of the Woodlands
or
The Cobbler's New Translation
written by L.P.

Here Robin the Cobbler for his former evils,
Was punish'd worst than Faustus was with devils.

London
printed for John Stafford
dwelling at the Sign of the George at Fleet Bridge
1655

Chapter I.

In the wilds of Kent
not far from Romney Marsh
there dwelt a merry-conceited cobbler
commonly called Robin the Devil
who afterwards came to be called
the Witch of the Woodlands

This cobbler always had a special care 
to please his customers
but chiefly he would be sure 
that if any wench brought him a job to do
he would go stitch her work first of all
he could jest and be merry in company
he could sing in his shop like a nightingale
he could cut a caper with Jack Pudding
and was not much inferior to lusty Laurence
who got eighteen wenches with child all in one night
but as the proverb goes
the pitcher that goes often to the water
may at last come broken homw
and the sweetest meat requires the sourest sauce

So it fared with Robin the Cobbler
for one of his wenches being suddenly brought to bed
with a male child
the mother of the damosel
served Robin the Cobbler with a warrant
and made him to marry her daughter out of hand
then was the poor cobbler fallen into a peck of troubles
and knew not how to behave himself
for though he had been factor for Mars
yet he never was made a Vulcan before that time
and now must he provide
for clouts and victuals
fire and candle
soap and starch
white bread and milk
a nurse and a cradle
with many other matters
which belong to married men to look after
but as it is in the proverb
that one ill chance follows another

So was it with him
for the other two damosels
which he had formerly made use of
now began to make use of him
and brought him two children more to keep
who were done both on one day
which when Robin the Cobbler did behold
he fell into such a fearful quandary
the people that beheld him 
said he looked so pitifully upon the matter
they thought in their minds 
he would never be good again

Then began Robin with doleful words
with weeping eyes
and with wringing hands
to bewail his former follies
saying

O silly rogue I am!
was it not enough for me
to sing
dance
drink ale
break cakes
talk and be merry among maids?
but that I must like a town bull
overrun all that stand in my way
and so in the end be pounded 
for my breaking loose
now am I in a worse case
than Porrage John
Marrett the Lawyer
or the Cow-keeper of the Pindar of Wakefield
I would my father had never begot me
then should I never have begotten
so many wenches with child
or else I would some honest sow-gelder
had done his office upon me to keep me honest
then had I 'scaped the misery now I am sure to endure

Now
while Robin the Cobbler was making this sorrowful lamentation
a friend of his whispered him in his ear
and gave him counsel to be gone from them all
saying

That pair of heels is worth two pairs of hands

Whose counsel Robin took
as you shall hear 
in the following chapter

Here Robin for his former lechery
doth suffer his members grievously