XLVIIThe Carpenter’s Son„Here the hangman stops his cart:Now the best of friends must part.Fare you well, for ill fare I:Live, lads, and I will die.„Oh, at home had I but stayed’Prenticed to my father’s trade,Had I stuck to plane and adze,I had not been lost, my lads.„Then I might have built perhapsGallows-trees for other chaps,Never dangled on my own,Had I but left ill alone.„Now, you see, they hang me high,And the people passing byStop to shake their fists and curse;So ’tis come from ill to worse.„Here hang I, and right and leftTwo poor fellows hang for theft:All the same’s the luck we prove,Though the midmost hangs for love.„Comrades all, that stand and gaze,Walk henceforth in other ways;See my neck and save your own:Comrades all, leave ill alone.„Make some day a decent end,Shrewder fellows than your friend.Fare you well, for ill fare I:Live lads, and I will die.”