A Ballad, Shewing how an old Woman rode Double, and who rode before her. 

 The Raven croak’d as she sate at her meal, And the Old Woman knew what he said, And she grew pale at the Raven’s tale, And sicken’d and went to her bed. Now fetch me my children, and fetch them with speed, The Old Woman of Berkeley said, The monk my son, and my daughter the nun Bid them hasten or I shall be dead. The monk her son, and her daughter the nun, Their way to Berkeley went, And they have brought with pious thought The holy sacrament. The old Woman shriek’d as they entered her door, ’Twas fearful her shrieks to hear, Now take the sacrament away For mercy, my children dear! Her lip it trembled with agony, The sweat ran down her brow, I have tortures in store for evermore, Oh! spare me my children now! Away they sent the sacrament, The fit it left her weak, She look’d at her children with ghastly eyes And faintly struggled to speak. All kind of sin I have rioted in And the judgment now must be, But I secured my childrens souls, Oh! pray my children for me. I have suck’d the breath of sleeping babes, The fiends have been my slaves, I have nointed myself with infants fat, And feasted on rifled graves. And the fiend will fetch me now in fire My witchcrafts to atone, And I who have rifled the dead man’s grave Shall never have rest in my own.  Bless I intreat my winding sheet My children I beg of you! And with holy water sprinkle my shroud And sprinkle my coffin too. And let me be chain’d in my coffin of stone And fasten it strong I implore With iron bars, and let it be chain’d With three chains to the church floor. And bless the chains and sprinkle them, And let fifty priests stand round, Who night and day the mass may say Where I lie on the ground. And let fifty choristers be there The funeral dirge to sing, Who day and night by the taper’s light Their aid to me may bring. Let the church bells all both great and small Be toll’d by night and day, To drive from thence the fiends who come To bear my corpse away. And ever have the church door barr’d After the even song, And I beseech you children dear Let the bars and bolts be strong. And let this be three days and nights My wretched corpse to save, Preserve me so long from the fiendish throng And then I may rest in my grave. The Old Woman of Berkeley laid her down And her eyes grew deadly dim, Short came her breath and the struggle of death Did loosen every limb. They blest the old woman’s winding sheet With rites and prayers as due, With holy water they sprinkled her shroud And they sprinkled her coffin too. And they chain’d her in her coffin of stone And with iron barr’d it down, And in the church with three strong chains They chain’d it to the ground. And 

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