The Cook's Tale

Once an apprentice dwelt within our town,

Learning the victuals trade. He was as brown
As any berry. Blithely he'd cavort
Like a finch in the wood. Well-built and short,
With locks coal black and very neatly kept,
At dancing he so well, so blithely leapt,
That he was known as Perkin Reveler.
He was as full of love, this victualer,
As is the beehive full of honey sweet,
And lucky were the wenches he would meet.
At every wedding he would sing and hop;
He loved the tavern better than the shop.
When there was a procession in Cheapside,
Out of the shop immediately he hied,
And till he'd seen it all, and took a turn
At dancing, he would not again return;
And there would gather many of his sort
To dance and sing and otherwise disport;
And they would make appointments too to meet
And play at dice at such-and-such a street,
For there was no apprentice in the town
Who better rattled dice and threw them down
Than Perkin Reveler. And he was free
In what he spent--his master easily
Had learnt this in the shop, for that is where
He often found his box completely bare.
For surely when a prentice takes to vice
Like parties, paramours, and games of dice,
His master in the shop shall be the one
Who pays though having no part in the fun.
Although a prentice play guitar or fiddle,
Theft and riotous living differ little;
Truth and revel, in one of low degree,
Will always be at odds, as men may see.
Now with his master this blithe lad remained
Until in victuals nearly fully trained,
Though often chided--more than once he made
The trip to Newgate while musicians played.
Then finally one day his master thought,
When Perkin his indenture paper sought,
About an old proverb, the words that say:
"A rotten apple's better thrown away
Before it spoils the barrel." That is true
When dealing with a bad apprentice too;
Less harm is done to let him go apace
Before he ruins all others in the place.
But the master thought that the best idea was chastise him,
One day the master gave him the day off,
And as was his custom he went to the tavern,
that day he seen a gorgeous girl,
she had never gone to the tavern,

Perkin asked people but no one knew, who was she,

He came over to talk and she smiled at him,
He invited her to play craps, she accepted
So they played all the night,
Suddenly he stared into her eyes and slowly approached,
When a hand touched his shoulder
He turned his head and seen a knight
The knight hit him and he fell to the floor,
So the knight began to unsheathe his sword,
Perkin wanted run but his legs didn't respond
the knight started walking toward him,
then the master came into the tavern and greeted the knight
and He said: enough.
Perkin learned the lesson.

The Cook's Tale

Once an apprentice dwelt within our town,
Learning the victuals trade. He was as brown
As any berry. Blithely he'd cavort
Like a finch in the wood. Well-built and short,
With locks coal black and very neatly kept,
At dancing he so well, so blithely leapt,
That he was known as Perkin Reveler.
He was as full of love, this victualer,
As is the beehive full of honey sweet,
And lucky were the wenches he would meet.
At every wedding he would sing and hop;
He loved the tavern better than the shop.
When there was a procession in Cheapside,
Out of the shop immediately he hied,
And till he'd seen it all, and took a turn
At dancing, he would not again return;
And there would gather many of his sort
To dance and sing and otherwise disport;
And they would make appointments too to meet
And play at dice at such-and-such a street,
For there was no apprentice in the town
Who better rattled dice and threw them down
Than Perkin Reveler. And he was free
In what he spent--his master easily
Had learnt this in the shop, for that is where
He often found his box completely bare.
For surely when a prentice takes to vice
Like parties, paramours, and games of dice,
His master in the shop shall be the one
Who pays though having no part in the fun.
Although a prentice play guitar or fiddle,
Theft and riotous living differ little;
Truth and revel, in one of low degree,
Will always be at odds, as men may see.
Now with his master this blithe lad remained
Until in victuals nearly fully trained,
Though often chided--more than once he made
The trip to Newgate while musicians played.
Then finally one day his master thought,
When Perkin his indenture paper sought,
About an old proverb, the words that say:
"A rotten apple's better thrown away
Before it spoils the barrel." That is true
When dealing with a bad apprentice too;
Less harm is done to let him go apace

Before he ruins all others in the place.

And so his master gave him his acquittance,
And bade him go with sorry luck: "Good riddance!"
And so this jolly prentice left. Let him
Now revel all the night if that's his whim.
And as there is no thief without ally
To help embezzle, squander, or come by
All he can steal or borrow in some way,
He sent his bed and clothes without delay
To a compeer, a chap of his own sort
Who loved to dice, to revel and disport,
And had a wife who kept, for public view,