The Famous Ratketcher,
with his travels into France,
and of his returne to London

To the tune of the Ioviall Tinker
(also known as Fly Bass or Tom a Bedlam)

There was a rare Rat-catcher,
Did about the Country Wander,
The soundest blade of all his trade,
Or I should him greatly slander,

And still would he cry, a Ratt, tat, tat,
tara rat, ever:
To catch a mouse, or to carouse,
such a Ratter I saw never

His talke was all of India,
The Voyage and the Navie;
What Mise or Rattes, or wild Polcats;
What Stoates or Weesels have yee;

And still would he cry, a Ratt, tat, tat,
tara rat, ever:
To catch a mouse, or to carouse,
such a Ratter I saw never

He knew the Nut of India,
That makes the magpie stagger;
The Mercuries, and Cantharies,
With Arsnicke, and Roseaker.

And still would he cry, a Ratt, tat, tat,
tara rat, ever:
To catch a mouse, or to carouse,
such a Ratter I saw never

Full often with a Native,
The Iuice of Poppies drunke hee;
Eate Poyson franke with a Mountebanke,
And Spiders with a Monkie,

And still would he cry, a Ratt, tat, tat,
tara rat, ever:
To catch a mouse, or to carouse,
such a Ratter I saw never

In London he was well knowne;
In many a stately House.
He layd a Bayte, whose deadly fate
Did kill both Ratte and Mouse.

And still would he cry, a Ratt, tat, tat,
tara rat, ever:
To catch a mouse, or to carouse,
such a Ratter I saw never

But on a time, a Damosell,
did him so farre intice,
That for her, a Baite he layd straight,
would kill no Rats nor Mice.

And still would he cry, a Ratt, tat, tat,
tara rat, ever:
To catch a mouse, or to carouse,
such a Ratter I saw never

And on the baite she nibled,
so pleasing in her taste,
She lickt so long, that the Poyson strong,
did make her swell i'th waiste.

And still would he cry, a Ratt, tat, tat,
tara rat, ever:
To catch a mouse, or to carouse,
such a Ratter I saw never

He subtilely this perceiving,
to the Country straight doth hie him;
Where by his skill, he poysoneth still,
such vermine as come nie him.

And still would he cry, a Ratt, tat, tat,
tara rat, ever:
To catch a mouse, or to carouse,
such a Ratter I saw never

He never careth whether
he be sober, lame, or tipsie;
He can Collogue with any Rogue,
and Cant with any Gipsie.

And still would he cry, a Ratt, tat, tat,
tara rat, ever:
To catch a mouse, or to carouse,
such a Ratter I saw never

He was so brave a Bowzer,
that it was doubtful whether
He taught the Rats, or the Rats taught him
To be druncke as Rats, together.

And still would he cry, a Ratt, tat, tat,
tara rat, ever:
To catch a mouse, or to carouse,
such a Ratter I saw never

When he had tript this Iland,
from Bristow unto Dover,
With painefull Bagge and painted Flagge
to France, he sailed over.

And still would he cry, a Ratt, tat, tat,
tara rat, ever:
To catch a mouse, or to carouse,
such a Ratter I saw never

Source: broadside, printed circa 1615, contained in the Pepys Collection. Reprinted in A Pepysian Garland: Black-Letter Broadside Ballads of the Years 1595-1639, Chiefly from the Collection of Samuel Pepys., (ed. Hyder E. Rollins, Cambridge University Press, 1992) Volume I, p. 60.

comments? corrections? criticism?
email Gregory J. Rosmaita

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