Forth from the dark and dismal Cell,
Or from the deep abiss of Hell,
Mad Tom is come to view the World again, 
To see if he can Cure his destemper'd Brain: 
Fears and Cares oppress my Soul; 
Hark, how the angry Furies howl; 
Pluto laughs, and Proserpine is glad,
To see poor angry Tom of Bedlam mad. 
Through the World I wander night and day. 
To find my stragling Senses,
In an angry mood I met Old Time 
With his Pentateuch of Tenses; 
When me he spies, 
Away he flies, 
For Time will stay for no man; 
In vain with cryes, 
I rend the Skies, 
For Pity is not common. 
Cold and comfortless I lye, 
Help, help, oh help, or else I dye! 
Hark, I hear Apollo's Team, 
The Carman 'gins to whistle; 
Chast Diana bends her Bow, 
And the Boar begins to bristle. 
Come Vulcan with Tools and with Tackles, 
To knock off my troublesome shackles: 
Bid Charles make ready his Wain, 
To bring me my Senses again. 

Last Night I heard the Dog-star bark. 
Mars met Venus in the Dark; 
Limping Vulcan heat an Iron Bar, 
And furiously made at the great God of War. 
Mars with his weapon laid about. 
Limping Vulcan had got the Gout;
His broad Horns did hang so in his light, 
That he could not see to aim his blows aright. 
Mercury the nimble Post of Heaven 
Stood still to see the Quarrel; 
Gorrel-belly'd Bacchus Gyant-like, 
Bestrid a Strong-beer Barrel: 
To me he Drank, 
I did him thank. 
But I could drink no Sider; 
He drank whole Buts, 
'Till he burst his Guts, 
But mine was ne're the wider. 
Poor Tom is very Dry; 
A little Drink, for Charity:
Hark! I hear Acteon's Hounds,
The Huntsman Hoops and Hollows;
Ringwood, Rockwood, Jowler, Bowman,
All the Chace doth follow. 
The Man in the Moon drinks Clarret,
Eats Powder'd-Beef, Turnep, and Carret:
But a Cup of Malligo Sack 
Will fire the Bush at his Back.