Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, LONDON LICKPENNY [OR, LYCKPENNY], by JOHN LYDGATE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

LONDON LICKPENNY [OR, LYCKPENNY], by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: To london once my stepps I bent
Last Line: For who so wantes mony with them shall not spede.
Subject(s): London


To London once my stepps I bent,
Where trouth in no wyse should be faynt,
To Westmynster-ward I forthwith went,
To a man of law to make complaynt;
I sayd, 'for Marys love, that holy saynt!
Pity the poore that wold proceede';
But for lack of mony I cold not spede.

[After visiting all the courts at Westminster one after
another, and finding that everywhere want of cash is
the one insuperable impediment, he passes eastward to the City.]

Then unto London I dyd me hye,
Of all the land it beareth the pryse:
'Hot pescodes,' one began to crye,
'Strabery rype, and cherryes in the ryse';
One bad me come nere and by some spyce,
Peper and safforne they gan me bede,
But for lack of mony I myght not spede.

Then to the Chepe I began me drawne,
Where mutch people I saw for to stand;
One ofred me velvet, sylke, and lawne,
An other he taketh me by the hande,
'Here is Parys thred, the fynest in the land';
I never was used to such thyngs indede,
And wanting mony, I might not spede.

Then went I forth by London stone,
Th[o]roughout all Canwyke streete;
Drapers mutch cloth me offred anone;
Then comes me one, cryed, 'Hot shepes feete';
One cryde 'makerell,' 'ryshes grene,' an other gan greete;
On bad me by a hood to cover my head,
But for want of mony I myght not be sped.

Then I hyed me into Est-Chepe;
One cryes rybbs of befe, and many a pye:
Pewter pottes they clattered on a heape;
There was harpe, pype, and mynstralsye.
'Yea, by cock! nay, by cock!' some began crye;
Some songe of Jenken and Julyan for there mede;
But for lack of mony I myght not spede.

Then into Corn-Hyll anon I yode,
Where was mutch stolen gere amonge;
I saw where honge myne owne hoode,
That I had lost amonge the thronge;
To by my own hood I thought it wronge,
I knew it well as I dyd my crede,
But for lack of mony I could not spede.

The taverner tooke me by the sleve,
'Sir,' sayth he, 'wyll you our wyne assay'?
I answered, 'That can not mutch me greve:
A peny can do no more then it may';
I drank a pynt, and for it did paye;
Yet sone a-hungerd from thence I yede,
And wantyng mony, I cold not spede.

Then hyed I me to Belyngsgate;
And one cryed, 'Hoo! go we hence!'
I prayd a barge-man, for God's sake,
That he wold spare me my expence.
'Thou scapst not here,' quod he, 'under two pence;
I Iyst not yet bestow my almes dede.'
Thus, lackyng mony, I could not spede.

Then I convayd me into Kent;
For of the law wold I meddle no more;
Because no man to me tooke entent,
I dyght me to do as I dyd before.
Now Jesus, that in Bethlem was bore,
Save London, and send trew lawyers there mede!
For who so wantes mony with them shall not spede.






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