When first I came to be a man,
Of twenty years or so,
I thought myself a handsome youth,
And fain the world would know;
In best attire I stept abroad,
With spirits brisk and gay,
And here and there, and ev'ry where,
Was like a morn in May.
No care I had, nor fear of want,
But rambled up and down;
And for a beau I might have pass'd
In country or in town:
I still was pleas'd where-e'er I went,
And when I was alone,
I tun'd my pipe, and pleas'd myself
With John of Badenyon.

Now, in the days of youthful prime,
A mistress I must find;
For love, they say, gives one an air,
And ev'n improves the mind:
On Phillis fair, above the rest,
Kind fortune fix'd my eyes;
Her piercing beauty struck my heart,
And she became my choice:
To Cupid then, with hearty pray'r,
I offer'd many a vow,
And danc'd and sung, and sigh'd and swore,
As other lovers do:
But when at last I breath'd my flame,
I found her cold as stone;
I left the girl, and tun'd my pipe
To John of Badenyon.

What next to do, I mus'd a while,
Still hoping to succeed:
I pitch'd on books for company,
And gravely tried to read;
I bought and borrow'd ev'ry where,
And study'd night and day;
Nor miss'd what dean or doctor wrote,
That happen'd in my way.
Philosophy I now esteem'd
The ornament of youth,
And carefully, thro' many a page,
I hunted after truth:
A thousand various schemes I try'd,
And yet was pleas'd with none;
I threw them by, and tun'd my pipe
To John of Badenyon.

And now, ye youngsters, ev'ry where,
Who want to make a show,
Take heed in time, nor vainly hope
For happiness below;
What you may fancy pleasure here,
Is but an empty name;
For girls, and friends, and books, and so,
You'll find them all the same.
Then be advis'd, and warning take,
From such a man as me;
I'm neither pope nor cardinal,
Nor one of high degree;
You'll find displeasure ev'ry where,
Then do as I have done;
E'en tune your pipe, and please yourself
With John of Badenyon.