The prodigal son converted, or The young-man return'd from his rambles Wit ne're till now, was cry'd about the street, at the low rate o[f] a poor penny sheet; sharp times will make sharp wits, not fear sharp tongues, 'tis we who money want which suffer wrongs; you can't command a poet with a frown to write new songs: but yours, for a crown: here's that will please you sure, and much befriend ye. You'll thank the author, if the devil be n't in ye. To a pleasant new play-house tune call'd The delight of the bottle, &c.

Title:	The prodigal son converted, or The young-man return'd from his rambles Wit ne're till now, was cry'd about the street, at the low rate o[f] a poor penny sheet; sharp times will make sharp wits, not fear sharp tongues, 'tis we who money want which suffer wrongs; you can't command a poet with a frown to write new songs: but yours, for a crown: here's that will please you sure, and much befriend ye. You'll thank the author, if the devil be n't in ye. To a pleasant new play-house tune call'd The delight of the bottle, &c.
Note:	[London] : Printed for R, [sic] Burton, at the Horse-shooe in West-Smithfield, [1665?]

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Subject:	Ballads, English -- 17th century
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