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diff --git a/old/oleng10h.htm b/old/oleng10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cc2cd8e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/oleng10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11386 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII"> +<title>Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of England</title> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of England, by Robert Bell</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of England +by Robert Bell + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of England + +Author: Robert Bell + +Release Date: September, 1996 [EBook #649] +[This file was first posted on September 17, 1996] +[Most recently updated: September 2, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII +</pre> +<p> +<a name="startoftext"></a> +Transcribed from the 1857 John W. Parker and Son edition by David Price, +email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +ANCIENT POEMS, BALLADS AND SONGS OF THE PEASANTRY OF ENGLAND. +TAKEN DOWN FROM ORAL RECITATION AND TRANSCRIBED FROM PRIVATE MANUSCRIPTS, +RARE BROADSIDES AND SCARCE PUBLICATIONS.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +INTRODUCTION.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +In 1846, the Percy Society issued to its members a volume entitled <i>Ancient +Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of</i> <i>England</i>, edited +by Mr. James Henry Dixon. The sources drawn upon by Mr. Dixon +are intimated in the following extract from his preface:-<br> +<br> +<br> +He who, in travelling through the rural districts of England, has made +the road-side inn his resting-place, who has visited the lowly dwellings +of the villagers and yeomanry, and been present at their feasts and +festivals, must have observed that there are certain old poems, ballads, +and songs, which are favourites with the masses, and have been said +and sung from generation to generation.<br> +<br> +<br> +This traditional, and, for the most part, unprinted literature, - cherished +in remote villages, resisting everywhere the invasion of modern namby-pamby +verse and jaunty melody, and possessing, in an historical point of view, +especial value as a faithful record of the feeling, usages, and modes +of life of the rural population, - had been almost wholly passed over +amongst the antiquarian revivals which constitute one of the distinguishing +features of the present age. While attention was successfully +drawn to other forms of our early poetry, this peasant minstrelsy was +scarcely touched, and might be considered unexplored ground. There +was great difficulty in collecting materials which lay scattered so +widely, and which could be procured in their genuine simplicity only +from the people amongst whom they originated, and with whom they are +as ‘familiar as household words.’ It was even still +more difficult to find an editor who combined genial literary taste +with the local knowledge of character, customs, and dialect, indispensable +to the collation of such reliques; and thus, although their national +interest was universally recognised, they were silently permitted to +fall into comparative oblivion. To supply this manifest <i>desideratum</i>, +Mr. Dixon compiled his volume for the Percy Society; and its pages, +embracing only a selection from the rich stores he had gathered, abundantly +exemplified that gentleman’s remarkable qualifications for the +labour he had undertaken. After stating in his preface that contributions +from various quarters had accumulated so largely on his hands as to +compel him to omit many pieces he was desirous of preserving, he thus +describes generally the contents of the work:-<br> +<br> +<br> +In what we have retained will be found every variety,<br> +<br> +‘From grave to gay, from lively to severe,’<br> +<br> +from the moral poem and the religious dialogue, -<br> +<br> +‘The scrolls that teach us to live and to die,’ -<br> +<br> +to the legendary, the historical, or the domestic ballad; from the strains +that enliven the harvest-home and festival, to the love-ditties which +the country lass warbles, or the comic song with which the rustic sets +the village hostel in a roar. In our collection are several pieces +exceedingly scarce, and hitherto to be met with only in broadsides and +chap-books of the utmost rarity; in addition to which we have given +several others never before in print, and obtained by the editor and +his friends, either from the oral recitation of the peasantry, or from +manuscripts in the possession of private individuals.<br> +<br> +<br> +The novelty of the matter, and the copious resources disclosed by the +editor, acquired for the volume a popularity extending far beyond the +limited circle to which it was addressed; and although the edition was +necessarily restricted to the members of the Percy Society, the book +was quoted not only by English writers, but by some of the most distinguished +archaeologists on the continent.<br> +<br> +It had always been my intention to form a collection of local songs, +illustrative of popular festivals, customs, manners, and dialects. +As the merit of having anticipated, and, in a great measure, accomplished +this project belongs exclusively to Mr. Dixon, so to that gentleman +I have now the pleasure of tendering my acknowledgments for the means +of enriching the Annotated Edition of the English Poets with a volume +which, in some respects, is the most curious and interesting of the +series.<br> +<br> +Subsequently to the publication of his collection by the Percy Society, +Mr. Dixon had amassed additional materials of great value; and, conscious +that the work admitted of considerable improvement, both in the way +of omission and augmentation, he resolved upon the preparation of a +new edition. His reasons for rejecting certain portions of the +former volume are stated in the following extract from a communication +with which he has obliged me, and which may be considered as his own +introduction to the ensuing pages.<br> +<br> +<br> +The editor had passed his earliest years in a romantic mountain-district +in the North of England, where old customs and manners, and old songs +and ballads still linger. Under the influence of these associations, +he imbibed a passionate love for peasant rhymes; having little notion +at that time that the simple minstrelsy which afforded him so much delight +could yield hardly less pleasure to those who cultivated more artificial +modes of poetry, and who knew little of the life of the peasantry. +His collection was not issued without diffidence; but the result dissipated +all apprehension as to the estimate in which these essentially popular +productions are held. The reception of the book, indeed, far exceeded +its merits; for he is bound in candour to say that it was neither so +complete nor so judiciously selected as it might have been. Like +almost all books issued by societies, it was got up in haste, and hurried +through the press. It contained some things which were out of +place in such a work, but which were inserted upon solicitations that +could not have been very easily refused; and even where the matter was +unexceptionable, it sometimes happened that it was printed from comparatively +modern broadsides, for want of time to consult earlier editions. +In the interval which has since elapsed, all these defects and short-comings +have been remedied. Several pieces, which had no legitimate claims +to the places they occupied, have been removed; others have been collated +with more ancient copies than the editor had had access to previously; +and the whole work has been considerably enlarged. In its present +form it is strictly what its title-page implies - a collection of poems, +ballads, and songs preserved by tradition, and in actual circulation, +amongst the peasantry.<br> +<br> +<i>Bex, Canton de Vaud.<br> +Switzerland.<br> +<br> +<br> +</i>The present volume differs in many important particulars from the +former, of the deficiencies of which Mr. Dixon makes so frank an avowal. +It has not only undergone a careful revision, but has received additions +to an extent which renders it almost a new work. Many of there +accessions are taken from extremely rare originals, and others are here +printed for the first time, including amongst the latter the ballad +of <i>Earl Brand</i>, a traditional lyric of great antiquity, long familiar +to the dales of the North of England; and the <i>Death of Queen Jane</i>, +a relic of more than ordinary intesest. Nearly forty songs, noted +down from recitation, or gathered from sources not generally accessible, +have been added to the former collection, illustrative, for the most +part, of historical events, country pastimes, and local customs. +Not the least suggestive feature in this department are the political +songs it contains, which have long outlived the occasions that gave +them birth, and which still retain their popularity, although their +allusions are no longer understood. Amongst this class of songs +may be specially indicated <i>Jack and Tom, Joan’s Ale was New, +George Ridler’s Oven</i>, and<i> The Carrion Crow</i>. The +songs of a strictly rural character, having reference to the occupations +and intercourse of the people, possess an interest which cannot be adequately +measured by their poetical pretensions. The very defects of art +with which they are chargeable, constitute their highest claim to consideration +as authentic specimens of country lore. The songs in praise of +the dairy, or the plough; or in celebration of the harvest-home, or +the churn-supper; or descriptive of the pleasures of the milk-maid, +or the courtship in the farm-house; or those that give us glimpses of +the ways of life of the waggoner, the poacher, the horse-dealer, and +the boon companion of the road-side hostelrie, are no less curious for +their idiomatic and primitive forms of expression, than for their pictures +of rustic modes and manners. Of special interest, too, are the +songs which relate to festival and customs; such as the <i>Sword Dancer’s +Song and Interlude</i>, the <i>Swearing-in</i> <i>Song, or Rhyme, at +Highgate</i>, the <i>Cornish Midsummer Bonfire Song</i>, and the <i>Fairlop +Fair Song.<br> +<br> +</i>In the arrangement of so multifarious an anthology, gathered from +nearly all parts of the kingdom, the observance of chronological order, +for obvious reasons, has not been attempted; but pieces which possess +any kind of affinity to each other have been kept together as nearly +as other considerations would permit.<br> +<br> +The value of this volume consists in the genuineness of its contents, +and the healthiness of its tone. While fashionable life was masquerading +in imaginary Arcadias, and deluging theatres and concert rooms with +shams, the English peasant remained true to the realities of his own +experience, and produced and sang songs which faithfully reflected the +actual life around him. Whatever these songs describe is true +to that life. There are no fictitious raptures in them. +Love here never dresses its emotions in artificial images, nor disguises +itself in the mask of a Strephon or a Daphne. It is in this particular +aspect that the poetry of the country possesses a permanent and moral +interest.<br> +<br> +R. B.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +ANCIENT POEMS, BALLADS, AND SONGS OF THE PEASANTRY.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Contents<br> +<br> +Poems:<br> +<br> +The plain-dealing man.<br> +The vanities of life.<br> +The life and age of man.<br> +The young man’s wish.<br> +The midnight messenger; or, a sudden call from an earthly glory to the +cold grave.<br> +A dialogue betwixt an exciseman and death.<br> +The messenger of mortality; or life and death contrasted in a dialogue +betwixt death and a lady.<br> +England’s alarm; or the pious christian’s speedy call to +repentance<br> +Smoking spiritualized.<br> +The masonic hymn.<br> +God speed the plow, and bless the corn-mow. A dialogue between +the husbandman and servingman.<br> +A dialogue between the husbandman and the servingman.<br> +The Catholick.<br> +The three knights.<br> +The blind beggar of Bednall Green.<br> +<br> +Ballads:<br> +<br> +The bold pedlar and Robin Hood.<br> +The outlandish knight.<br> +Lord Delaware.<br> +Lord Bateman.<br> +The golden glove; or, the squire of tamworth.<br> +King James I. And the tinkler.<br> +The Keach i’ the Creel.<br> +The Merry Broomfield; or, the west country wager.<br> +Sir John Barleycorn.<br> +Blow the winds, i-ho!<br> +The beautiful lady of Kent; or, the seaman of Dover.<br> +The Berkshire lady’s garland.<br> +The nobleman’s generous kindness.<br> +The drunkard’s legacy.<br> +The Bowes tragedy.<br> +The crafty lover; or, the lawyer outwitted.<br> +The death of Queen Jane.<br> +The wandering young gentlewoman; or, Catskin.<br> +The brave Earl Brand and the King of England’s Daughter.<br> +The Jovial Hunter of Bromsgrove; or, the old man and his three sons.<br> +Lady Alice.<br> +The felon sewe of rokeby and the freeres of Richmond.<br> +Arthur o’Bradley’s wedding.<br> +The painful plough.<br> +The useful plow; or, the plough’s praise.<br> +The farmer’s son.<br> +The farmer’s boy.<br> +Richard of Taunton Dean; or, dumble dum deary.<br> +Wooing song of a yeoman of Kent’s sonne.<br> +The clown’s courtship.<br> +Harry’s courtship.<br> +Harvest-home song.<br> +Harvest-home.<br> +The mow.<br> +The barley-mow song.<br> +The barley-mow song. (Suffolk version.)<br> +The craven churn-supper song.<br> +The rural dance about the may-pole.<br> +The Hitchin may-day song.<br> +The Helstone furry-day song.<br> +Cornish midsummer bonfire song.<br> +Suffolk harvest-home song.<br> +The haymaker’s song.<br> +The sword-dancers’ song.<br> +The sword-dancers’ song and interlude.<br> +The maskers’ song.<br> +Gloucestershire wassailers’ song.<br> +The mummers’ song; or, the poor old horse.<br> +Fragment of the hagmena song.<br> +The greenside wakes song.<br> +The swearing-in song or rhyme.<br> +Fairlop fair song.<br> +As Tom was a-walking.<br> +The miller and his sons.<br> +Jack and Tom.<br> +Joan’s ale was new.<br> +George Ridler’s oven.<br> +The carrion crow.<br> +The leathern bottel.<br> +The farmer’s old wife.<br> +Old Wichet and his wife.<br> +The Jolly Waggoner.<br> +The Yorkshire horse-dealer.<br> +The King and the countryman.<br> +Jone o’ Greenfield’s ramble.<br> +Thornehagh-moor woods.<br> +The Lincolnshire poacher.<br> +Somersetshire hunting song.<br> +The trotting horse.<br> +The seeds of love.<br> +The garden-gate.<br> +The new-mown hay.<br> +The praise of a dairy.<br> +The milk-maid’s life.<br> +The milking-pail.<br> +The summer’s morning.<br> +Old Adam.<br> +Tobacco.<br> +The Spanish Ladies.<br> +Harry the Tailor.<br> +Sir Arthur and Charming Mollee.<br> +There was an old man came over the lea.<br> +Why should we quarrel for riches.<br> +The merry fellows; or, he that will not merry, merry be.<br> +The old man’s song.<br> +Robin Hood’s hill.<br> +Begone dull care.<br> +Full merrily sings the cuckoo.<br> +Jockey to the fair.<br> +Long Preston Peg.<br> +The sweet nightingale; or, down in those valleys below.<br> +The old man and his three sons.<br> +A begging we will go.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Poem: THE PLAIN-DEALING MAN.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The oldest copy of the <i>Plain Dealing Man</i> with which we have +been able to meet is in black letter, printed by T. Vere at the sign +‘Of the Angel without Newgate.’ Vere was living in +1609.]<br> +<br> +A crotchet comes into my mind<br> +Concerning a proverb of old,<br> +Plain dealing’s a jewel most rare,<br> +And more precious than silver or gold:<br> +And therefore with patience give ear,<br> +And listen to what here is penned,<br> +These verses were written on purpose<br> +The honest man’s cause to defend.<br> +For this I will make it appear,<br> +And prove by experience I can,<br> +’Tis the excellen’st thing in the world<br> +To be a plain-dealing man.<br> +<br> +Yet some are so impudent grown,<br> +They’ll domineer, vapour, and swagger,<br> +And say that the plain-dealing man<br> +Was born to die a beggar:<br> +But men that are honestly given<br> +Do such evil actions detest,<br> +And every one that is well-minded<br> +Will say that plain dealing is best.<br> +For this I will make it appear,<br> +And prove by experience I can,<br> +’Tis the excellen’st thing in the world<br> +To be a plain-dealing man.<br> +<br> +For my part I am a poor man,<br> +And sometimes scarce muster a shilling,<br> +Yet to live upright in the world,<br> +Heaven knows I am wondrous willing.<br> +Although that my clothes be threadbare,<br> +And my calling be simple and poor,<br> +Yet will I endeavour myself<br> +To keep off the wolf from the door.<br> +For this I will make it appear,<br> +And prove by experience I can,<br> +’Tis the excellen’st thing in the world<br> +To be a plain-dealing man.<br> +<br> +And now, to be brief in discourse,<br> +In plain terms I’ll tell you my mind;<br> +My qualities you shall all know,<br> +And to what my humour’s inclined:<br> +I hate all dissembling base knaves<br> +And pickthanks whoever they be,<br> +And for painted-faced drabs, and such like,<br> +They shall never get penny of me.<br> +For this I will make it appear,<br> +And prove by experience I can,<br> +’Tis the excellen’st thing in the world<br> +To be a plain-dealing man.<br> +<br> +Nor can I abide any tongues<br> +That will prattle and prate against reason,<br> +About that which doth not concern them;<br> +Which thing is no better than treason.<br> +Wherefore I’d wish all that do hear me<br> +Not to meddle with matters of state,<br> +Lest they be in question called for it,<br> +And repent them when it is too late.<br> +For this I will make it appear,<br> +And prove by experience I can,<br> +’Tis the excellen’st thing in the world<br> +To be a plain-dealing man.<br> +<br> +O fie upon spiteful neighbours,<br> +Whose malicious humours are bent,<br> +And do practise and strive every day<br> +To wrong the poor innocent.<br> +By means of such persons as they,<br> +There hath many a good mother’s son<br> +Been utterly brought to decay,<br> +Their wives and their children undone.<br> +For this I will make it appear,<br> +And prove by experience I can,<br> +’Tis the excellen’st thing in the world<br> +To be a plain-dealing man.<br> +<br> +O fie upon forsworn knaves,<br> +That do no conscience make<br> +To swear and forswear themselves<br> +At every third word they do speak:<br> +So they may get profit and gain,<br> +They care not what lies they do tell;<br> +Such cursed dissemblers as they<br> +Are worse than the devils of hell.<br> +For this I will make it appear,<br> +And prove by experience I can,<br> +’Tis the excellen’st thing in the world<br> +To be a plain-dealing man.<br> +<br> +O fie upon greedy bribe takers,<br> +’Tis pity they ever drew breath,<br> +For they, like to base caterpillars,<br> +Devour up the fruits of the earth.<br> +They’re apt to take money with both hands,<br> +On one side and also the other,<br> +And care not what men they undo,<br> +Though it be their own father or brother.<br> +Therefore I will make it appear,<br> +And show very good reasons I can,<br> +’Tis the excellen’st thing in the world<br> +To be a plain-dealing man.<br> +<br> +O fie upon cheaters and thieves,<br> +That liveth by fraud and deceit;<br> +The gallows do for such blades groan,<br> +And the hangmen do for their clothes wait.<br> +Though poverty be a disgrace,<br> +And want is a pitiful grief,<br> +’Tis better to go like a beggar<br> +Than to ride in a cart like a thief.<br> +For this I will make it appear,<br> +And prove by experience I can,<br> +’Tis the excellen’st thing in the world<br> +To be a plain-dealing man.<br> +<br> +And now let all honest men judge,<br> +If such men as I have here named<br> +For their wicked and impudent dealings,<br> +Deserveth not much to be blamed.<br> +And now here, before I conclude,<br> +One item to the world I will give,<br> +Which may direct some the right way,<br> +And teach them the better to live.<br> +For now I have made it appear,<br> +And many men witness it can,<br> +’Tis the excellen’st thing in the world<br> +To be a plain-dealing man.<br> +<br> +1. I’ th’ first place I’d wish you beware<br> +What company you come in,<br> +For those that are wicked themselves<br> +May quickly tempt others to sin.<br> +<br> +2. If youths be inducèd with wealth,<br> +And have plenty of silver and gold,<br> +I’d wish them keep something in store,<br> +To comfort them when they are old.<br> +<br> +3. I have known many young prodigals,<br> +Which have wasted their money so fast,<br> +That they have been driven in want,<br> +And were forcèd to beg at the last.<br> +<br> +4. I’d wish all men bear a good conscience,<br> +And in all their actions be just;<br> +For he’s a false varlet indeed<br> +That will not be true to his trust.<br> +<br> +And now to conclude my new song,<br> +And draw to a perfect conclusion,<br> +I have told you what is in my mind,<br> +And what is my [firm] resolution.<br> +For this I have made it appear,<br> +And prove by experience I can,<br> +’Tis the excellen’st thing in the world<br> +To be a plain-dealing man.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Poem: THE VANITIES OF LIFE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The following verses were copied by John Clare, the Northamptonshire +peasant, from a MS. on the fly-leaves of an old book in the possession +of a poor man, entitled <i>The World’s</i> <i>best Wealth</i>; +<i>a Collection of choice Councils in Verse and</i> <i>Prose</i>. +<i>Printed for A. Bettesworth, at the Red Lion</i> <i>in</i> <i>Paternoster-row</i>, +1720. They were written in a ‘crabbed, quaint hand, and +difficult to decipher.’ Clare remitted the poem (along with +the original MS.) to Montgomery, the author of <i>The World before the +Flood</i>, &c. &c., by whom it was published in the <i>Sheffield +Iris</i>. Montgomery’s criticism is as follows:- ‘Long +as the poem appears to the eye, it will abundantly repay the trouble +of perusal, being full of condensed and admirable thought, as well as +diversified with exuberant imagery, and embellished with peculiar felicity +of language: the moral points in the closing couplets of the stanzas +are often powerfully enforced.’ Most readers will agree +in the justice of these remarks. The poem was, probably, as Clare +supposes, written about the commencement of the 18th century; and the +unknown author appears to have been deeply imbued with the spirit of +the popular devotional writers of the preceding century, as Herbert, +Quarles, &c., but seems to have modelled his smoother and more elegant +versification after that of the poetic school of his own times.]<br> +<br> +‘Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.’ - SOLOMON.<br> +<br> +<br> +What are life’s joys and gains?<br> +What pleasures crowd its ways,<br> +That man should take such pains<br> +To seek them all his days?<br> +Sift this untoward strife<br> +On which thy mind is bent,<br> +See if this chaff of life<br> +Is worth the trouble spent.<br> +<br> +Is pride thy heart’s desire?<br> +Is power thy climbing aim?<br> +Is love thy folly’s fire?<br> +Is wealth thy restless game?<br> +Pride, power, love, wealth and all,<br> +Time’s touchstone shall destroy,<br> +And, like base coin, prove all<br> +Vain substitutes for joy.<br> +<br> +Dost think that pride exalts<br> +Thyself in other’s eyes,<br> +And hides thy folly’s faults,<br> +Which reason will despise?<br> +Dost strut, and turn, and stride,<br> +Like walking weathercocks?<br> +The shadow by thy side<br> +Becomes thy ape, and mocks.<br> +<br> +Dost think that power’s disguise<br> +Can make thee mighty seem?<br> +It may in folly’s eyes,<br> +But not in worth’s esteem:<br> +When all that thou canst ask,<br> +And all that she can give,<br> +Is but a paltry mask<br> +Which tyants wear and live.<br> +<br> +Go, let thy fancies range<br> +And ramble where they may;<br> +View power in every change,<br> +And what is the display?<br> +- The country magistrate,<br> +The lowest shade in power,<br> +To rulers of the state,<br> +The meteors of an hour: -<br> +<br> +View all, and mark the end<br> +Of every proud extreme,<br> +Where flattery turns a friend,<br> +And counterfeits esteem;<br> +Where worth is aped in show,<br> +That doth her name purloin,<br> +Like toys of golden glow<br> +That’s sold for copper coin.<br> +<br> +Ambition’s haughty nod,<br> +With fancies may deceive,<br> +Nay, tell thee thou’rt a god, -<br> +And wilt thou such believe?<br> +Go, bid the seas be dry,<br> +Go, hold earth like a ball,<br> +Or throw her fancies by,<br> +For God can do it all.<br> +<br> +Dost thou possess the dower<br> +Of laws to spare or kill?<br> +Call it not heav’nly power<br> +When but a tyrant’s will;<br> +Know what a God will do,<br> +And know thyself a fool,<br> +Nor tyrant-like pursue<br> +Where He alone should rule.<br> +<br> +Dost think, when wealth is won,<br> +Thy heart has its desire?<br> +Hold ice up to the sun,<br> +And wax before the fire;<br> +Nor triumph o’er the reign<br> +Which they so soon resign;<br> +In this world weigh the gain,<br> +Insurance safe is thine.<br> +<br> +Dost think life’s peace secure<br> +In houses and in land?<br> +Go, read the fairy lure<br> +To twist a cord of sand;<br> +Lodge stones upon the sky,<br> +Hold water in a sieve,<br> +Nor give such tales the lie,<br> +And still thine own believe.<br> +<br> +Whoso with riches deals,<br> +And thinks peace bought and sold,<br> +Will find them slippery eels,<br> +That slide the firmest hold:<br> +Though sweet as sleep with health,<br> +Thy lulling luck may be,<br> +Pride may o’erstride thy wealth,<br> +And check prosperity.<br> +<br> +Dost think that beauty’s power,<br> +Life’s sweetest pleasure gives?<br> +Go, pluck the summer flower,<br> +And see how long it lives:<br> +Behold, the rays glide on,<br> +Along the summer plain,<br> +Ere thou canst say, they’re gone, -<br> +And measure beauty’s reign.<br> +<br> +Look on the brightest eye,<br> +Nor teach it to be proud,<br> +But view the clearest sky<br> +And thou shalt find a cloud;<br> +Nor call each face ye meet<br> +An angel’s, ‘cause it’s fair,<br> +But look beneath your feet,<br> +And think of what ye are.<br> +<br> +Who thinks that love doth live<br> +In beauty’s tempting show,<br> +Shall find his hopes ungive,<br> +And melt in reason’s thaw;<br> +Who thinks that pleasure lies<br> +In every fairy bower,<br> +Shall oft, to his surprise,<br> +Find poison in the flower.<br> +<br> +Dost lawless pleasures grasp?<br> +Judge not thou deal’st in joy;<br> +Its flowers but hide the asp,<br> +Thy revels to destroy:<br> +Who trusts a harlot’s smile,<br> +And by her wiles is led,<br> +Plays with a sword the while,<br> +Hung dropping o’er his head.<br> +<br> +Dost doubt my warning song?<br> +Then doubt the sun gives light,<br> +Doubt truth to teach thee wrong,<br> +And wrong alone as right;<br> +And live as lives the knave,<br> +Intrigue’s deceiving guest,<br> +Be tyrant, or be slave,<br> +As suits thy ends the best.<br> +<br> +Or pause amid thy toils,<br> +For visions won and lost,<br> +And count the fancied spoils,<br> +If e’er they quit the cost;<br> +And if they still possess<br> +Thy mind, as worthy things,<br> +Pick straws with Bedlam Bess,<br> +And call them diamond rings.<br> +<br> +Thy folly’s past advice,<br> +Thy heart’s already won,<br> +Thy fall’s above all price,<br> +So go, and be undone;<br> +For all who thus prefer<br> +The seeming great for small,<br> +Shall make wine vinegar,<br> +And sweetest honey gall.<br> +<br> +Wouldst heed the truths I sing,<br> +To profit wherewithal,<br> +Clip folly’s wanton wing,<br> +And keep her within call:<br> +I’ve little else to give,<br> +What thou canst easy try,<br> +The lesson how to live,<br> +Is but to learn to die.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Poem: THE LIFE AND AGE OF MAN.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[From one of Thackeray’s Catalogues, preserved in the British +Museum, it appears that <i>The Life and Age of Man</i> was one of the +productions printed by him at the ‘Angel in Duck Lane, London.’ +Thackeray’s imprint is found attached to broadsides published +between 1672 and 1688, and he probably commenced printing soon after +the accession of Charles II. The present reprint, the correctness +of which is very questionable, is taken from a modern broadside, the +editor not having been fortunate enough to meet with any earlier edition. +This old poem is said to have been a great favourite with the father +of Robert Burns.]<br> +<br> +<br> +In prime of years, when I was young,<br> +I took delight in youthful ways,<br> +Not knowing then what did belong<br> +Unto the pleasures of those days.<br> +At seven years old I was a child,<br> +And subject then to be beguiled.<br> +<br> +At two times seven I went to learn<br> +What discipline is taught at school:<br> +When good from ill I could discern,<br> +I thought myself no more a fool:<br> +My parents were contriving than,<br> +How I might live when I were man.<br> +<br> +At three times seven I waxèd wild,<br> +When manhood led me to be bold;<br> +I thought myself no more a child,<br> +My own conceit it so me told:<br> +Then did I venture far and near,<br> +To buy delight at price full dear.<br> +<br> +At four times seven I take a wife,<br> +And leave off all my wanton ways,<br> +Thinking thereby perhaps to thrive,<br> +And save myself from sad disgrace.<br> +So farewell my companions all,<br> +For other business doth me call.<br> +<br> +At five times seven I must hard strive,<br> +What I could gain by mighty skill;<br> +But still against the stream I drive,<br> +And bowl up stones against the hill;<br> +The more I laboured might and main,<br> +The more I strove against the stream.<br> +<br> +At six times seven all covetise<br> +Began to harbour in my breast;<br> +My mind still then contriving was<br> +How I might gain this worldly wealth;<br> +To purchase lands and live on them,<br> +So make my children mighty men.<br> +<br> +At seven times seven all worldly thought<br> +Began to harbour in my brain;<br> +Then did I drink a heavy draught<br> +Of water of experience plain;<br> +There none so ready was as I,<br> +To purchase bargains, sell, or buy.<br> +<br> +At eight times seven I waxèd old,<br> +And took myself unto my rest,<br> +Neighbours then sought my counsel bold,<br> +And I was held in great request;<br> +But age did so abate my strength,<br> +That I was forced to yield at length.<br> +<br> +At nine times seven take my leave<br> +Of former vain delights must I;<br> +It then full sorely did me grieve -<br> +I fetchèd many a heavy sigh;<br> +To rise up early, and sit up late,<br> +My former life, I loathe and hate.<br> +<br> +At ten times seven my glass is run,<br> +And I poor silly man must die;<br> +I lookèd up, and saw the sun<br> +Had overcome the crystal sky.<br> +So now I must this world forsake,<br> +Another man my place must take.<br> +<br> +Now you may see, as in a glass,<br> +The whole estate of mortal men;<br> +How they from seven to seven do pass,<br> +Until they are threescore and ten;<br> +And when their glass is fully run,<br> +They must leave off as they begun.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Poem: THE YOUNG MAN’S WISH.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[From an old copy, without printer’s name; probably one from the +Aldermary Church-yard press. Poems in triplets were very popular +during the reign of Charles I., and are frequently to be met with during +the Interregnum, and the reign of Charles II.]<br> +<br> +<br> +If I could but attain my wish,<br> +I’d have each day one wholesome dish,<br> +Of plain meat, or fowl, or fish.<br> +<br> +A glass of port, with good old beer,<br> +In winter time a fire burnt clear,<br> +Tobacco, pipes, an easy chair.<br> +<br> +In some clean town a snug retreat,<br> +A little garden ‘fore my gate,<br> +With thousand pounds a year estate.<br> +<br> +After my house expense was clear,<br> +Whatever I could have to spare,<br> +The neighbouring poor should freely share.<br> +<br> +To keep content and peace through life,<br> +I’d have a prudent cleanly wife,<br> +Stranger to noise, and eke to strife.<br> +<br> +Then I, when blest with such estate,<br> +With such a house, and such a mate,<br> +Would envy not the worldly great.<br> +<br> +Let them for noisy honours try,<br> +Let them seek worldly praise, while I<br> +Unnoticèd would live and die.<br> +<br> +But since dame Fortune’s not thought fit<br> +To place me in affluence, yet<br> +I’ll be content with what I get.<br> +<br> +He’s happiest far whose humble mind,<br> +Is unto Providence resigned,<br> +And thinketh fortune always kind.<br> +<br> +Then I will strive to bound my wish,<br> +And take, instead of fowl and fish,<br> +Whate’er is thrown into my dish.<br> +<br> +Instead of wealth and fortune great,<br> +Garden and house and loving mate,<br> +I’ll rest content in servile state.<br> +<br> +I’ll from each folly strive to fly,<br> +Each virtue to attain I’ll try,<br> +And live as I would wish to die.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Poem: THE MIDNIGHT MESSENGER; OR, A SUDDEN CALL FROM AN EARTHLY GLORY +TO THE COLD GRAVE.<br> +<br> +In a Dialogue between Death and a Rich Man; who, in the midst of all +his Wealth, received the tidings of his Last Day, to his unspeakable +and sorrowful Lamentation.<br> +<br> +To the tune of <i>Aim not too high</i>, <a name="citation1"></a><a href="#footnote1">{1}</a> +&c.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The following poem, and the two that immediately follow, belong to +a class of publications which have always been peculiar favourites with +the peasantry, in whose cottages they may be frequently seen, neatly +framed and glazed, and suspended from the white-washed walls. +They belong to the school of Quarles, and can be traced to the time +when that writer was in the height of his popularity. These religious +dialogues are numerous, but the majority of them are very namby-pamby +productions, and unworthy of a reprint. The modern editions preserve +the old form of the broadside of the seventeenth century, and are adorned +with rude woodcuts, probably copies of ruder originals -<br> +<br> +<br> +- ‘wooden cuts<br> +Strange, and uncouth; dire faces, figures dire,<br> +Sharp-kneed, sharp-elbowed, and lean-ankled too,<br> +With long and ghostly shanks, forms which once seen,<br> +Can never be forgotten!’ - WORDSWORTH’S <i>Excursion</i>.]<br> +<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +Thou wealthy man of large possessions here,<br> +Amounting to some thousand pounds a year,<br> +Extorted by oppression from the poor,<br> +The time is come that thou shalt be no more;<br> +Thy house therefore in order set with speed,<br> +And call to mind how you your life do lead.<br> +Let true repentance be thy chiefest care,<br> +And for another world now, <i>now</i> prepare.<br> +For notwithstanding all your heaps of gold,<br> +Your lands and lofty buildings manifold,<br> +Take notice you must die this very day;<br> +And therefore kiss your bags and come away.<br> +<br> +RICH MAN.<br> +<br> +[He started straight and turned his head aside,<br> +Where seeing pale-faced Death, aloud he cried],<br> +Lean famished slave! why do you threaten so,<br> +Whence come you, pray, and whither must I go?<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +I come from ranging round the universe,<br> +Through courts and kingdoms far and near I pass,<br> +Where rich and poor, distressèd, bond and free,<br> +Fall soon or late a sacrifice to me.<br> +From crownèd kings to captives bound in chains<br> +My power reaches, sir; the longest reigns<br> +That ever were, I put a period to;<br> +And now I’m come in fine to conquer you.<br> +<br> +RICH MAN.<br> +<br> +I can’t nor won’t believe that you, pale Death,<br> +Were sent this day to stop my vital breath,<br> +By reason I in perfect health remain,<br> +Free from diseases, sorrow, grief, and pain;<br> +No heavy heart, nor fainting fits have I,<br> +And do you say that I am drawing nigh<br> +The latter minute? sure it cannot be;<br> +Depart, therefore, you are not sent for me!<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +Yes, yes, I am, for did you never know,<br> +The tender grass and pleasant flowers that grow<br> +Perhaps one minute, are the next cut down?<br> +And so is man, though famed with high renown.<br> +Have you not heard the doleful passing bell<br> +Ring out for those that were alive and well<br> +The other day, in health and pleasure too,<br> +And had as little thoughts of death as you?<br> +For let me tell you, when my warrant’s sealed,<br> +The sweetest beauty that the earth doth yield<br> +At my approach shall turn as pale as lead;<br> +’Tis I that lay them on their dying bed.<br> +<br> +I kill with dropsy, phthisic, stone, and gout;<br> +But when my raging fevers fly about,<br> +I strike the man, perhaps, but over-night,<br> +Who hardly lives to see the morning light;<br> +I’m sent each hour, like to a nimble page,<br> +To infant, hoary heads, and middle age;<br> +Time after time I sweep the world quite through;<br> +Then it’s in vain to think I’ll favour you.<br> +<br> +RICH MAN.<br> +<br> +Proud Death, you see what awful sway I bear,<br> +For when I frown none of my servants dare<br> +Approach my presence, but in corners hide<br> +Until I am appeased and pacified.<br> +Nay, men of greater rank I keep in awe<br> +Nor did I ever fear the force of law,<br> +But ever did my enemies subdue,<br> +And must I after all submit to you?<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +’Tis very true, for why thy daring soul,<br> +Which never could endure the least control,<br> +I’ll thrust thee from this earthly tenement,<br> +And thou shalt to another world be sent.<br> +<br> +RICH MAN.<br> +<br> +What! must I die and leave a vast estate,<br> +Which, with my gold, I purchased but of late?<br> +Besides what I had many years ago? -<br> +What! must my wealth and I be parted so?<br> +If you your darts and arrows must let fly,<br> +Go search the jails, where mourning debtors lie;<br> +Release them from their sorrow, grief, and woe,<br> +For I am rich and therefore loth to go.<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +I’ll search no jails, but the right mark I’ll hit;<br> +And though you are unwilling to submit,<br> +Yet die you must, no other friend can do, -<br> +Prepare yourself to go, I’m come for you.<br> +If you had all the world and ten times more,<br> +Yet die you must, - there’s millions gone before;<br> +The greatest kings on earth yield and obey,<br> +And at my feet their crowns and sceptres lay:<br> +If crownèd heads and right renownèd peers<br> +Die in the prime and blossoms of their years,<br> +Can you suppose to gain a longer space?<br> +No! I will send you to another place.<br> +<br> +RICH MAN.<br> +<br> +Oh! stay thy hand and be not so severe,<br> +I have a hopeful son and daughter dear,<br> +All that I beg is but to let me live<br> +That I may them in lawful marriage give:<br> +They being young when I am laid in the grave,<br> +I fear they will be wronged of what they have:<br> +Although of me you will no pity take,<br> +Yet spare me for my little infants’ sake.<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +If such a vain excuse as this might do,<br> +It would be long ere mortals would go through<br> +The shades of death; for every man would find<br> +Something to say that he might stay behind.<br> +Yet, if ten thousand arguments they’d use,<br> +The destiny of dying to excuse,<br> +They’ll find it is in vain with me to strive,<br> +For why, I part the dearest friends alive;<br> +Poor parents die, and leave their children small<br> +With nothing to support them here withal,<br> +But the kind hand of gracious Providence,<br> +Who is their father, friend, and sole defence.<br> +Though I have held you long in disrepute,<br> +Yet after all here with a sharp salute<br> +I’ll put a period to your days and years,<br> +Causing your eyes to flow with dying tears.<br> +<br> +RICH MAN.<br> +<br> +[Then with a groan he made this sad complaint]:<br> +My heart is dying, and my spirits faint;<br> +To my close chamber let me be conveyed;<br> +Farewell, false world, for thou hast me betrayed.<br> +Would I had never wronged the fatherless,<br> +Nor mourning widows when in sad distress;<br> +Would I had ne’er been guilty of that sin,<br> +Would I had never known what gold had been;<br> +For by the same my heart was drawn away<br> +To search for gold: but now this very day,<br> +I find it is but like a slender reed,<br> +Which fails me most when most I stand in need;<br> +For, woe is me! the time is come at last,<br> +Now I am on a bed of sorrow cast,<br> +Where in lamenting tears I weeping lie,<br> +Because my sins make me afraid to die:<br> +Oh! Death, be pleased to spare me yet awhile,<br> +That I to God myself may reconcile,<br> +For true repentance some small time allow;<br> +I never feared a future state till now!<br> +My bags of gold and land I’d freely give,<br> +For to obtain the favour here to live,<br> +Until I have a sure foundation laid.<br> +Let me not die before my peace be made!<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +Thou hast not many minutes here to stay,<br> +Lift up your heart to God without delay,<br> +Implore his pardon now for what is past,<br> +Who knows but He may save your soul at last?<br> +<br> +RICH MAN.<br> +<br> +I’ll water now with tears my dying bed,<br> +Before the Lord my sad complaint I’ll spread,<br> +And if He will vouchsafe to pardon me,<br> +To die and leave this world I could be free.<br> +False world! false world, farewell! farewell! adieu!<br> +I find, I find, there is no trust in you!<br> +For when upon a dying bed we lie,<br> +Your gilded baits are nought but misery.<br> +My youthful son and loving daughter dear,<br> +Take warning by your dying father here;<br> +Let not the world deceive you at this rate,<br> +For fear a sad repentance comes too late.<br> +Sweet babes, I little thought the other day,<br> +I should so suddenly be snatched away<br> +By Death, and leave you weeping here behind;<br> +But life’s a most uncertain thing, I find.<br> +When in the grave my head is lain full low,<br> +Pray let not folly prove your overthrow;<br> +Serve ye the Lord, obey his holy will,<br> +That he may have a blessing for you still.<br> +[Having saluted them, he turned aside,<br> +These were the very words before he died]:<br> +<br> +A painful life I ready am to leave,<br> +Wherefore, in mercy, Lord, my soul receive.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Poem: A DIALOGUE BETWIXT AN EXCISEMAN AND DEATH.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[Transcribed from a copy in the British Museum, printed in London by +J. C[larke]., 1659. The idea of Death being employed to execute +a writ, recalls an epitaph which we remember to have seen in a village +church-yard at the foot of the Wrekin, in Shropshire, commencing thus:-<br> +<br> +‘The King of Heaven a warrant got,<br> +And sealèd it without delay,<br> +And he did give the same to Death,<br> +For him to serve straightway,’ &c.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Upon a time when Titan’s steeds were driven<br> +To drench themselves beneath the western heaven;<br> +And sable Morpheus had his curtains spread,<br> +And silent night had laid the world to bed;<br> +’Mongst other night-birds which did seek for prey,<br> +A blunt exciseman, which abhorred the day,<br> +Was rambling forth to seek himself a booty<br> +’Mongst merchant’s goods which had not paid the duty;<br> +But walking all alone, Death chanced to meet him,<br> +And in this manner did begin to greet him.<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +Stand, who comes here? what means this knave to peep<br> +And skulk abroad, when honest men should sleep?<br> +Speak, what’s thy name? and quickly tell me this,<br> +Whither thou goest, and what thy business is?<br> +<br> +EXCISEMAN.<br> +<br> +Whate’er my business is, thou foul-mouthed scold,<br> +I’d have you know I scorn to be controlled<br> +By any man that lives; much less by thou,<br> +Who blurtest out thou know’st not what, nor how;<br> +I go about my lawful business; and<br> +I’ll make you smart for bidding of me stand.<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +Imperious coxcomb! is your stomach vexed?<br> +Pray slack your rage, and hearken what comes next:<br> +I have a writ to take you up; therefore,<br> +To chafe your blood, I bid you stand, once more.<br> +<br> +EXCISEMAN.<br> +<br> +A writ to take <i>me</i> up! excuse me, sir,<br> +You do mistake, I am an officer<br> +In public service, for my private wealth;<br> +My business is, if any seek by stealth<br> +To undermine the state, I do discover<br> +Their falsehood; therefore hold your hand, - give over.<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +Nay, fair and soft! ’tis not so quickly done<br> +As you conceive it is: I am not gone<br> +A jot the sooner for your hasty chat,<br> +Nor bragging language; for I tell you flat<br> +’Tis more than so, though fortune seem to thwart us,<br> +Such easy terms I don’t intend shall part us.<br> +With this impartial arm I’ll make you feel<br> +My fingers first, and with this shaft of steel<br> +I’ll peck thy bones! <i>as thou alive wert hated,<br> +So dead, to dogs thou shalt be segregated.<br> +<br> +</i>EXCISEMAN.<br> +<br> +I’d laugh at that; I would thou didst but dare<br> +To lay thy fingers on me; I’d not spare<br> +To hack thy carcass till my sword was broken,<br> +I’d make thee eat the words which thou hast spoken;<br> +All men should warning take by thy transgression,<br> +How they molested men of my profession.<br> +My service to the State is so well known,<br> +That should I but complain, they’d quickly own<br> +My public grievances; and give me right<br> +To cut your ears, before tomorrow night.<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +Well said, indeed! but bootless all, for I<br> +Am well acquainted with thy villany;<br> +I know thy office, and thy trade is such,<br> +Thy service little, and thy gains are much:<br> +Thy brags are many; but ’tis vain to swagger,<br> +And think to fight me with thy gilded dagger:<br> +<i>As I abhor thy person, place, and threat,<br> +</i>So now I’ll bring thee to the judgment-seat.<br> +<br> +EXCISEMAN.<br> +<br> +The judgment-seat! I must confess that word<br> +Doth cut my heart, like any sharpened sword:<br> +What! come t’ account! methinks the dreadful sound<br> +Of every word doth make a mortal wound,<br> +Which sticks not only in my outward skin,<br> +But penetrates my very soul within.<br> +’Twas least of all my thoughts that ever Death<br> +Would once attempt to stop excisemen’s breath.<br> +But since ’tis so, that now I do perceive<br> +You are in earnest, then I must relieve<br> +Myself another way: come, we’ll be friends;<br> +If I have wrongèd thee, I’ll make th’ amends.<br> +Let’s join together; I’ll pass my word this night<br> +Shall yield us grub, before the morning light.<br> +Or otherwise (to mitigate my sorrow),<br> +Stay here, I’ll bring you gold enough to-morrow.<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +To-morrow’s gold I will not have; and thou<br> +Shalt have no gold upon to-morrow: now<br> +My final writ shall to th’ execution have thee,<br> +All earthly treasure cannot help or save thee.<br> +<br> +EXCISEMAN.<br> +<br> +Then woe is me! ah! how was I befooled!<br> +I thought that gold (which answereth all things) could<br> +Have stood my friend at any time to bail me!<br> +But grief grows great, and now my trust doth fail me.<br> +Oh! that my conscience were but clear within,<br> +Which now is rackèd with my former sin;<br> +With horror I behold my secret stealing,<br> +My bribes, oppression, and my graceless dealing;<br> +My office-sins, which I had clean forgotten,<br> +Will gnaw my soul when all my bones are rotten:<br> +I must confess it, very grief doth force me,<br> +Dead or alive, both God and man doth curse me.<br> +<i>Let all Excisemen</i> hereby warning take,<br> +To shun their practice for their conscience sake.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Poem: THE MESSENGER OF MORTALITY; OR LIFE AND DEATH CONTRASTED IN A +DIALOGUE BETWIXT DEATH AND A LADY.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[One of Charles Lamb’s most beautiful and plaintive poems was +suggested by this old dialogue. The tune is given in Chappell’s +<i>Popular Music</i>, p. 167. In Carey’s <i>Musical Century</i>, +1738, it is called the ‘Old tune of <i>Death and the Lady</i>.’ +The four concluding lines of the present copy of <i>Death and the Lady</i> +are found inscribed on tomb-stones in village church-yards in every +part of England. They are not contained, however, in the broadside +with which our reprint has been carefully collated.]<br> +<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +Fair lady, lay your costly robes aside,<br> +No longer may you glory in your pride;<br> +Take leave of all your carnal vain delight,<br> +I’m come to summon you away this night!<br> +<br> +LADY.<br> +<br> +What bold attempt is this? pray let me know<br> +From whence you come, and whither I must go?<br> +Must I, who am a lady, stoop or bow<br> +To such a pale-faced visage? Who art thou?<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +Do you not know me? well! I tell thee, then,<br> +It’s I that conquer all the sons of men!<br> +No pitch of honour from my dart is free;<br> +My name is Death! have you not heard of me?<br> +<br> +LADY.<br> +<br> +Yes! I have heard of thee time after time,<br> +But being in the glory of my prime,<br> +I did not think you would have called so soon.<br> +Why must my morning sun go down at noon?<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +Talk not of noon! you may as well be mute;<br> +This is no time at all for to dispute:<br> +Your riches, garments, gold, and jewels brave,<br> +Houses and lands must all new owners have;<br> +Though thy vain heart to riches was inclined,<br> +Yet thou must die and leave them all behind.<br> +<br> +LADY.<br> +<br> +My heart is cold; I tremble at the news;<br> +There’s bags of gold, if thou wilt me excuse,<br> +And seize on them, and finish thou the strife<br> +Of those that are aweary of their life.<br> +Are there not many bound in prison strong,<br> +In bitter grief of soul have languished long,<br> +Who could but find the grave a place of rest,<br> +From all the grief in which they are oppressed?<br> +Besides, there’s many with a hoary head,<br> +And palsy joints, by which their joys are fled;<br> +Release thou them whose sorrows are so great,<br> +But spare my life to have a longer date.<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +Though some by age be full of grief and pain,<br> +Yet their appointed time they must remain:<br> +I come to none before their warrant’s sealed,<br> +And when it is, they must submit and yield.<br> +I take no bribe, believe me, this is true;<br> +Prepare yourself to go; I’m come for you.<br> +<br> +LADY.<br> +<br> +Death, be not so severe, let me obtain<br> +A little longer time to live and reign!<br> +Fain would I stay if thou my life will spare;<br> +I have a daughter beautiful and fair,<br> +I’d live to see her wed whom I adore:<br> +Grant me but this and I will ask no more.<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +This is a slender frivolous excuse;<br> +I have you fast, and will not let you loose;<br> +Leave her to Providence, for you must go<br> +Along with me, whether you will or no;<br> +I, Death, command the King to leave his crown,<br> +And at my feet he lays his sceptre down!<br> +Then if to kings I don’t this favour give,<br> +But cut them off, can you expect to live<br> +Beyond the limits of your time and space!<br> +No! I must send you to another place.<br> +<br> +LADY.<br> +<br> +You learnèd doctors, now express your skill,<br> +And let not Death of me obtain his will;<br> +Prepare your cordials, let me comfort find,<br> +My gold shall fly like chaff before the wind.<br> +<br> +DEATH.<br> +<br> +Forbear to call, their skill will never do,<br> +They are but mortals here as well as you:<br> +I give the fatal wound, my dart is sure,<br> +And far beyond the doctor’s skill to cure.<br> +How freely can you let your riches fly<br> +To purchase life, rather than yield to die!<br> +But while you flourish here with all your store,<br> +You will not give one penny to the poor;<br> +Though in God’s name their suit to you they make,<br> +You would not spare one penny for His sake!<br> +The Lord beheld wherein you did amiss,<br> +And calls you hence to give account for this!<br> +<br> +LADY.<br> +<br> +Oh! heavy news! must I no longer stay?<br> +How shall I stand in the great judgment-day?<br> +[Down from her eyes the crystal tears did flow:<br> +She said], None knows what I do undergo:<br> +Upon my bed of sorrow here I lie;<br> +My carnal life makes me afraid to die.<br> +My sins, alas! are many, gross and foul,<br> +Oh, righteous Lord! have mercy on my soul!<br> +And though I do deserve thy righteous frown,<br> +Yet pardon, Lord, and pour a blessing down.<br> +[Then with a dying sigh her heart did break,<br> +And did the pleasures of this world forsake.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Thus may we see the high and mighty fall,<br> +For cruel Death shows no respect at all<br> +To any one of high or low degree<br> +Great men submit to Death as well as we.<br> +Though they are gay, their life is but a span -<br> +A lump of clay - so vile a creature’s man.<br> +Then happy those whom Christ has made his care,<br> +Who die in the Lord, and ever blessèd are.<br> +The grave’s the market-place where all men meet,<br> +Both rich and poor, as well as small and great.<br> +If life were merchandise that gold could buy,<br> +The rich would live, the poor alone would die.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Poem: ENGLAND’S ALARM; OR THE PIOUS CHRISTIAN’S SPEEDY CALL +TO REPENTANCE<br> +<br> +For the many aggravating sins too much practised in our present mournful +times: as Pride, Drunkenness, Blasphemous Swearing, together with the +Profanation of the Sabbath; concluding with the sin of wantonness and +disobedience; that upon our hearty sorrow and forsaking the same the +Lord may save us for his mercy’s sake.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[From the cluster of ‘ornaments’ alluded to in the ninth +verse of the following poem, we are inclined to fix the date about 1653. +The present reprint is from an old broadside, without printer’s +name or date, in possession of Mr. J. R. Smith.]<br> +<br> +<br> +You sober-minded christians now draw near,<br> +Labour to learn these pious lessons here;<br> +For by the same you will be taught to know<br> +What is the cause of all our grief and woe.<br> +<br> +We have a God who sits enthroned above;<br> +He sends us many tokens of his love:<br> +Yet we, like disobedient children, still<br> +Deny to yield submission to His will.<br> +<br> +The just command which He upon us lays,<br> +We must confess we have ten thousand ways<br> +Transgressed; for see how men their sins pursue,<br> +As if they did not fear what God could do.<br> +<br> +Behold the wretched sinner void of shame,<br> +He values not how he blasphemes the name<br> +Of that good God who gave him life and breath,<br> +And who can strike him with the darts of death!<br> +<br> +The very little children which we meet,<br> +Amongst the sports and pastimes in the street,<br> +We very often hear them curse and swear,<br> +Before they’ve learned a word of any prayer.<br> +<br> +’Tis much to be lamented, for I fear<br> +The same they learn from what they daily hear;<br> +Be careful then, and don’t instruct them so,<br> +For fear you prove their dismal overthrow.<br> +<br> +Both young and old, that dreadful sin forbear;<br> +The tongue of man was never made to swear,<br> +But to adore and praise the blessèd name,<br> +By whom alone our dear salvation came.<br> +<br> +Pride is another reigning sin likewise;<br> +Let us behold in what a strange disguise<br> +Young damsels do appear, both rich and poor;<br> +The like was ne’er in any age before.<br> +<br> +What artificial ornaments they wear,<br> +Black patches, paint, and locks of powdered hair;<br> +Likewise in lofty hoops they are arrayed,<br> +As if they would correct what God had made.<br> +<br> +Yet let ’em know, for all those youthful charms,<br> +They must lie down in death’s cold frozen arms!<br> +Oh think on this, and raise your thoughts above<br> +The sin of pride, which you so dearly love.<br> +<br> +Likewise, the wilful sinners that transgress<br> +The righteous laws of God by drunkenness,<br> +They do abuse the creatures which were sent<br> +Purely for man’s refreshing nourishment.<br> +<br> +Many diseases doth that sin attend,<br> +But what is worst of all, the fatal end:<br> +Let not the pleasures of a quaffing bowl<br> +Destroy and stupify thy active soul.<br> +<br> +Perhaps the jovial drunkard over night,<br> +May seem to reap the pleasures of delight,<br> +While for his wine he doth in plenty call;<br> +But oh! the sting of conscience, after all,<br> +<br> +Is like a gnawing worm upon the mind.<br> +Then if you would the peace of conscience find,<br> +A sober conversation learn with speed,<br> +For that’s the sweetest life that man can lead.<br> +<br> +Be careful that thou art not drawn away,<br> +By foolishness, to break the Sabbath-day;<br> +Be constant at the pious house of prayer,<br> +That thou mayst learn the christian duties there.<br> +<br> +For tell me, wherefore should we carp and care<br> +For what we eat and drink, and what we wear;<br> +And the meanwhile our fainting souls exclude<br> +From that refreshing sweet celestial food?<br> +<br> +Yet so it is, we, by experience, find<br> +Many young wanton gallants seldom mind<br> +The church of God, but scornfully deride<br> +That sacred word by which they must be tried.<br> +<br> +A tavern, or an alehouse, they adore,<br> +And will not come within the church before<br> +They’re brought to lodge under a silent tomb,<br> +And then who knows how dismal is their doom!<br> +<br> +Though for awhile, perhaps, they flourish here,<br> +And seem to scorn the very thoughts of fear,<br> +Yet when they’re summoned to resign their breath,<br> +They can’t outbrave the bitter stroke of death!<br> +<br> +Consider this, young gallants, whilst you may,<br> +Swift-wingèd time and tide for none will stay;<br> +And therefore let it be your christian care,<br> +To serve the Lord, and for your death prepare.<br> +<br> +There is another crying sin likewise:<br> +Behold young gallants cast their wanton eyes<br> +On painted harlots, which they often meet<br> +At every creek and corner of the street,<br> +<br> +By whom they are like dismal captives led<br> +To their destruction; grace and fear is fled,<br> +Till at the length they find themselves betrayed,<br> +And for that sin most sad examples made.<br> +<br> +Then, then, perhaps, in bitter tears they’ll cry,<br> +With wringing hands, against their company,<br> +Which did betray them to that dismal state!<br> +Consider this before it is too late.<br> +<br> +Likewise, sons and daughters, far and near,<br> +Honour your loving friends, and parents dear;<br> +Let not your disobedience grieve them so,<br> +Nor cause their agèd eyes with tears to flow.<br> +<br> +What a heart-breaking sorrow it must be,<br> +To dear indulgent parents, when they see<br> +Their stubborn children wilfully run on<br> +Against the wholesome laws of God and man!<br> +<br> +Oh! let these things a deep impression make<br> +Upon your hearts, with speed your sins forsake;<br> +For, true it is, the Lord will never bless<br> +Those children that do wilfully transgress.<br> +<br> +Now, to conclude, both young and old I pray,<br> +Reform your sinful lives this very day,<br> +That God in mercy may his love extend,<br> +And bring the nation’s troubles to an end.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Poem: SMOKING SPIRITUALIZED.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently sufficient +grounds, to the Rev. Ralph Erskine, or, as he designated himself, ‘Ralph +Erskine, V.D.M.’ The peasantry throughout the north of England +always call it ‘Erskine’s song,’ and not only is his +name given as the author in numerous chap-books, but in his own volume +of <i>Gospel Sonnets</i>, from an early copy of which our version is +transcribed. The discovery however, by Mr. Collier, of the First +Part in a MS. temp. Jac. I., with the initials G. W. affixed to it, +has disposed of Erskine’s claim to the honour of the entire authorship. +G. W. is supposed to be George Withers; but this is purely conjectural; +and it is not at all improbable that G. W. really stands for W. G., +as it was a common practice amongst anonymous writers to reverse their +initials. The history, then, of the poem, seems to be this: that +the First Part, as it is now printed, originally constituted the whole +production, being complete in itself; that the Second Part was afterwards +added by the Rev. Ralph Erskine; and that both parts came subsequently +to be ascribed to him, as his was the only name published in connexion +with the song. The Rev. Ralph Erskine was born at Monilaws, Northumberland, +on the 15th March, 1685. He was one of the thirty-three children +of Ralph Erskine of Shieldfield, a family of repute descended from the +ancient house of Marr. He was educated at the college in Edinburgh, +obtained his licence to preach in June, 1709, and was ordained, on an +unanimous invitation, over the church at Dunfermline in August, 1711. +He was twice married: in 1714 to Margaret Dewar, daughter of the Laird +of Lassodie, by whom he had five sons and five daughters, all of whom +died in the prime of life; and in 1732 to Margaret, daughter of Mr. +Simson of Edinburgh, by whom he had four sons, one of whom, with his +wife, survived him. He died in November, 1752. Erskine was +the author of a great number of <i>Sermons</i>; <i>a Paraphrase on the</i> +<i>Canticles</i>; <i>Scripture Songs</i>; <i>a Treatise on Mental Images</i>; +and <i>Gospel Sonnets.<br> +<br> +Smoking Spiritualized</i> is, at the present day, a standard publication +with modern ballad-printers, but their copies are exceedingly corrupt. +Many versions and paraphrases of the song exist. Several are referred +to in <i>Notes and Queries</i>, and, amongst them, a broadside of the +date of 1670, and another dated 1672 (both printed before Erskine was +born), presenting different readings of the First Part, or original +poem. In both these the burthen, or refrain, differs from that +of our copy by the employment of the expression ‘<i>drink</i> +tobacco,’ instead of ‘<i>smoke</i> tobacco.’ +The former was the ancient term for drawing in the smoke, swallowing +it, and emitting it through the nostrils. A correspondent of <i>Notes +and Queries</i> says, that the natives of India to this day use the +phrase ‘hooka peue,’ to <i>drink</i> the hooka.]<br> +<br> +<br> +PART I.<br> +<br> +This Indian weed, now withered quite,<br> +Though green at noon, cut down at night,<br> +Shows thy decay;<br> +All flesh is hay:<br> +Thus think, and smoke tobacco.<br> +<br> +The pipe so lily-like and weak,<br> +Does thus thy mortal state bespeak;<br> +Thou art e’en such, -<br> +Gone with a touch:<br> +Thus think, and smoke tobacco.<br> +<br> +And when the smoke ascends on high,<br> +Then thou behold’st the vanity<br> +Of worldly stuff,<br> +Gone with a puff:<br> +Thus think, and smoke tobacco.<br> +<br> +And when the pipe grows foul within,<br> +Think on thy soul defiled with sin;<br> +For then the fire<br> +It does require:<br> +Thus think, and smoke tobacco.<br> +<br> +And seest the ashes cast away,<br> +Then to thyself thou mayest say,<br> +That to the dust<br> +Return thou must.<br> +Thus think, and smoke tobacco.<br> +<br> +PART II.<br> +<br> +Was this small plant for thee cut down?<br> +So was the plant of great renown,<br> +Which Mercy sends<br> +For nobler ends.<br> +Thus think, and smoke tobacco.<br> +<br> +Doth juice medicinal proceed<br> +From such a naughty foreign weed?<br> +Then what’s the power<br> +Of Jesse’s flower?<br> +Thus think, and smoke tobacco.<br> +<br> +The promise, like the pipe, inlays,<br> +And by the mouth of faith conveys,<br> +What virtue flows<br> +From Sharon’s rose.<br> +Thus think, and smoke tobacco.<br> +<br> +In vain the unlighted pipe you blow,<br> +Your pains in outward means are so,<br> +Till heavenly fire<br> +Your heart inspire.<br> +Thus think, and smoke tobacco.<br> +<br> +The smoke, like burning incense, towers,<br> +So should a praying heart of yours,<br> +With ardent cries,<br> +Surmount the skies.<br> +Thus think, and smoke tobacco.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Poem: THE MASONIC HYMN.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This is a very ancient production, though given from a modern copy; +it has always been popular amongst the poor ‘brethren of the mystic +tie.’ The late Henry O’Brien, A.B., quotes the seventh +verse in his essay <i>On the Round Towers of Ireland</i>. He generally +had a common copy of the hymn in his pocket, and on meeting with any +of his antiquarian friends who were not Masons, was in the habit of +thrusting it into their hands, and telling them that if they understood +the mystic allusions it contained, they would be in possession of a +key which would unlock the pyramids of Egypt! The tune to the +hymn is peculiar to it, and is of a plaintive and solemn character.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Come all you freemasons that dwell around the globe,<br> +That wear the badge of innocence, I mean the royal robe,<br> +Which Noah he did wear when in the ark he stood,<br> +When the world was destroyed by a deluging flood.<br> +<br> +Noah he was virtuous in the sight of the Lord,<br> +He loved a freemason that kept the secret word;<br> +For he built the ark, and he planted the first vine,<br> +Now his soul in heaven like an angel doth shine.<br> +<br> +Once I was blind, and could not see the light,<br> +Then up to Jerusalem I took my flight,<br> +I was led by the evangelist through a wilderness of care,<br> +You may see by the sign and the badge that I wear.<br> +<br> +On the 13th rose the ark, let us join hand in hand,<br> +For the Lord spake to Moses by water and by land,<br> +Unto the pleasant river where by Eden it did rin,<br> +And Eve tempted Adam by the serpent of sin.<br> +<br> +When I think of Moses it makes me to blush,<br> +All on mount Horeb where I saw the burning bush;<br> +My shoes I’ll throw off, and my staff I’ll cast away,<br> +And I’ll wander like a pilgrim unto my dying day.<br> +<br> +When I think of Aaron it makes me to weep,<br> +Likewise of the Virgin Mary who lay at our Saviour’s feet;<br> +’Twas in the garden of Gethsemane where he had the bloody sweat;<br> +Repent, my dearest brethren, before it is too late.<br> +<br> +I thought I saw twelve dazzling lights, which put me in surprise,<br> +And gazing all around me I heard a dismal noise;<br> +The serpent passèd by me which fell unto the ground,<br> +With great joy and comfort the secret word I found.<br> +<br> +Some say it is lost, but surely it is found,<br> +And so is our Saviour, it is known to all around;<br> +Search all the Scriptures over, and there it will be shown;<br> +The tree that will bear no fruit must be cut down.<br> +<br> +Abraham was a man well belovèd by the Lord,<br> +He was true to be found in great Jehovah’s word,<br> +He stretchèd forth his hand, and took a knife to slay his son,<br> +An angel appearing said, The Lord’s will be done!<br> +<br> +O, Abraham! O, Abraham! lay no hand upon the lad,<br> +He sent him unto thee to make thy heart glad;<br> +Thy seed shall increase like stars in the sky,<br> +And thy soul into heaven like Gabriel shall fly.<br> +<br> +O, never, O, never will I hear an orphan cry,<br> +Nor yet a gentle virgin until the day I die;<br> +You wandering Jews that travel the wide world round,<br> +May knock at the door where truth is to be found.<br> +<br> +Often against the Turks and Infidels we fight,<br> +To let the wandering world know we’re in the right,<br> +For in heaven there’s a lodge, and St. Peter keeps the door,<br> +And none can enter in but those that are pure.<br> +<br> +St. Peter he opened, and so we entered in,<br> +Into the holy seat secure, which is all free from sin;<br> +St. Peter he opened, and so we entered there,<br> +And the glory of the temple no man can compare.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Poem: GOD SPEED THE PLOW, AND BLESS THE CORN-MOW. A DIALOGUE BETWEEN +THE HUSBANDMAN AND SERVINGMAN.<br> +<br> +The tune is, <i>I am the Duke of Norfolk.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +</i>[This ancient dialogue, though in a somewhat altered form (see the +ensuing poem), has long been used at country merry-makings. It +is transcribed from a black-letter copy in the third volume of the Roxburgh +collection, apparently one of the imprints of Peter Brooksby, which +would make the composition at least as old as the close of the fifteenth +century. There are several dialogues of a similar character.]<br> +<br> +<br> +ARGUMENT.<br> +<br> +The servingman the plowman would invite<br> +To leave his calling and to take delight;<br> +But he to that by no means will agree,<br> +Lest he thereby should come to beggary.<br> +He makes it plain appear a country life<br> +Doth far excel: and so they end the strife.<br> +<br> +<br> +My noble friends give ear, if mirth you love to hear,<br> +I’ll tell you as fast as I can,<br> +A story very true, then mark what doth ensue,<br> +Concerning of a husbandman.<br> +A servingman did meet a husbandman in the street,<br> +And thus unto him began:<br> +<br> +SERVINGMAN.<br> +<br> +I pray you tell to me of what calling you be,<br> +Or if you be a servingman?<br> +<br> +HUSBANDMAN.<br> +<br> +Quoth he, my brother dear, the coast I mean to clear,<br> +And the truth you shall understand:<br> +I do no one disdain, but this I tell you plain,<br> +I am an honest husbandman.<br> +<br> +SERVINGMAN.<br> +<br> +If a husbandman you be, then come along with me,<br> +I’ll help you as soon as I can<br> +Unto a gallant place, where in a little space,<br> +You shall be a servingman.<br> +<br> +HUSBANDMAN.<br> +<br> +Sir, for your diligence I give you many thanks,<br> +These things I receive at your hand;<br> +I pray you to me show, whereby that I might know,<br> +What pleasures hath a servingman?<br> +<br> +SERVINGMAN.<br> +<br> +A servingman hath pleasure, which passeth time and measure,<br> +When the hawk on his fist doth stand;<br> +His hood, and his verrils brave, and other things, we have,<br> +Which yield joy to a servingman.<br> +<br> +HUSBANDMAN.<br> +<br> +My pleasure’s more than that to see my oxen fat,<br> +And to prosper well under my hand;<br> +And therefore I do mean, with my horse, and with my team,<br> +To keep myself a husbandman.<br> +<br> +SERVINGMAN.<br> +<br> +O ’tis a gallant thing in the prime time of the spring,<br> +To hear the huntsman now and than<br> +His bugle for to blow, and the hounds run all a row:<br> +This is pleasure for a servingman!<br> +To hear the beagle cry, and to see the falcon fly,<br> +And the hare trip over the plain,<br> +And the huntsmen and the hound make hill and dale rebound:<br> +This is pleasure for a servingman!<br> +<br> +HUSBANDMAN.<br> +<br> +’Tis pleasure, too, you know, to see the corn to grow,<br> +And to grow so well on the land;<br> +The plowing and the sowing, the reaping and the mowing,<br> +Yield pleasure to the husbandman.<br> +<br> +SERVINGMAN.<br> +<br> +At our table you may eat all sorts of dainty meat,<br> +Pig, cony, goose, capon, and swan;<br> +And with lords and ladies fine, you may drink beer, ale, and wine!<br> +This is pleasure for a servingman.<br> +<br> +HUSBANDMAN.<br> +<br> +While you eat goose and capon, I’ll feed on beef and bacon,<br> +And piece of hard cheese now and than;<br> +We pudding have, and souse, always ready in the house,<br> +Which contents the honest husbandman.<br> +<br> +SERVINGMAN.<br> +<br> +At the court you may have your garments fine and brave,<br> +And cloak with gold lace laid upon,<br> +A shirt as white as milk, and wrought with finest silk:<br> +That’s pleasure for a servingman!<br> +<br> +HUSBANDMAN.<br> +<br> +Such proud and costly gear is not for us to wear;<br> +Amongst the briers and brambles many a one,<br> +A good strong russet coat, and at your need a groat,<br> +Will suffice the husbandman.<br> +A proverb here I tell, which likes my humour well,<br> +And remember it well I can,<br> +If a courtier be too bold, he’ll want when he is old.<br> +Then farewell the servingman.<br> +<br> +SERVINGMAN.<br> +<br> +It needs must be confest that your calling is the best,<br> +No longer discourse with you I can;<br> +But henceforth I will pray, by night and by day,<br> +Heaven bless the honest husbandman.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Poem: A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE HUSBANDMAN AND THE SERVINGMAN.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This traditional version of the preceding ancient dialogue has long +been popular at country festivals. At a harvest-home feast at +Selborne, in Hampshire, in 1836, we heard it recited by two countrymen, +who gave it with considerable humour, and dramatic effect. It +was delivered in a sort of chant, or recitative. Davies Gilbert +published a very similar copy in his <i>Ancient Christmas Carols</i>. +In the modern printed editions, which are almost identical with ours, +the term ‘servantman’ has been substituted for the more +ancient designation.]<br> +<br> +<br> +SERVINGMAN.<br> +<br> +Well met, my brother friend, all at this highway end,<br> +So simple all alone, as you can,<br> +I pray you tell to me, what may your calling be,<br> +Are you not a servingman?<br> +<br> +HUSBANDMAN.<br> +<br> +No, no, my brother dear, what makes you to inquire<br> +Of any such a thing at my hand?<br> +Indeed I shall not feign, but I will tell you plain,<br> +I am a downright husbandman.<br> +<br> +SERVINGMAN.<br> +<br> +If a husbandman you be, then go along with me,<br> +And quickly you shall see out of hand,<br> +How in a little space I will help you to a place,<br> +Where you may be a servingman.<br> +<br> +HUSBANDMAN.<br> +<br> +Kind sir! I ‘turn you thanks for your intelligence,<br> +These things I receive at your hand;<br> +But something pray now show, that first I may plainly know<br> +The pleasures of a servingman.<br> +<br> +SERVINGMAN.<br> +<br> +Why a servingman has pleasure beyond all sort of measure,<br> +With his hawk on his fist, as he does stand;<br> +For the game that he does kill, and the meat that does him fill,<br> +Are pleasures for the servingman.<br> +<br> +HUSBANDMAN.<br> +<br> +And my pleasure’s more than that, to see my oxen fat,<br> +And a good stock of hay by them stand;<br> +My plowing and my sowing, my reaping and my mowing,<br> +Are pleasures for the husbandman.<br> +<br> +SERVINGMAN.<br> +<br> +Why it is a gallant thing to ride out with a king,<br> +With a lord, duke, or any such man;<br> +To hear the horns to blow, and see the hounds all in a row,<br> +That is pleasure for the servingman.<br> +<br> +HUSBANDMAN.<br> +<br> +But my pleasure’s more I know, to see my corn to grow,<br> +So thriving all over my land;<br> +And, therefore, I do mean, with my plowing with my team,<br> +To keep myself a husbandman.<br> +<br> +SERVINGMAN.<br> +<br> +Why the diet that we eat is the choicest of all meat,<br> +Such as pig, goose, capon, and swan;<br> +Our pastry is so fine, we drink sugar in our wine,<br> +That is living for the servingman.<br> +<br> +HUSBANDMAN.<br> +<br> +Talk not of goose nor capon, give me good beef or bacon,<br> +And good bread and cheese, now at hand;<br> +With pudding, brawn, and souse, all in a farmer’s house,<br> +That is living for the husbandman.<br> +<br> +SERVINGMAN.<br> +<br> +Why the clothing that we wear is delicate and rare,<br> +With our coat, lace, buckles, and band;<br> +Our shirts are white as milk, and our stockings they are silk,<br> +That is clothing for a servingman.<br> +<br> +HUSBANDMAN.<br> +<br> +But I value not a hair your delicate fine wear,<br> +Such as gold is laced upon;<br> +Give me a good grey coat, and in my purse a groat,<br> +That is clothing for the husbandman.<br> +<br> +SERVINGMAN.<br> +<br> +Kind sir! it would be bad if none could be had<br> +Those tables for to wait upon;<br> +There is no lord, duke, nor squire, nor member for the shire,<br> +Can do without a servingman.<br> +<br> +HUSBANDMAN.<br> +<br> +But, Jack! it would be worse if there was none of us<br> +To follow the plowing of the land;<br> +There is neither king, lord, nor squire, nor member for the shire,<br> +Can do without the husbandman.<br> +<br> +SERVINGMAN.<br> +<br> +Kind sir! I must confess’t, and I humbly protest<br> +I will give you the uppermost hand;<br> +Although your labour’s painful, and mine it is so very gainful,<br> +I wish I were a husbandman.<br> +<br> +HUSBANDMAN.<br> +<br> +So come now, let us all, both great as well as small,<br> +Pray for the grain of our land;<br> +And let us, whatsoever, do all our best endeavour,<br> +For to maintain the good husbandman.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Poem: THE CATHOLICK.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The following ingenious production has been copied literally from a +broadside posted against the ‘parlour’ wall of a country +inn in Gloucestershire. The verses are susceptible of two interpretations, +being Catholic if read in the columns, but Protestant if read across.]<br> +<br> +<br> +<font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono">I HOLD as faith What </font><font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono"><i>England’s church</i></font><font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono"> alows<br> +What </font><font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono"><i>Rome’s</i></font><font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono"> church saith My conscience disavows<br> +Where the </font><font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono"><i>King’s</i></font><font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono"> head That </font><font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono"><i>church</i></font><font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono"> can have no shame<br> +The flocks misled That holds the </font><font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono"><i>Pope</i></font><font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono"> supreame.<br> +Where the </font><font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono"><i>altars</i></font><font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono"> drest There’s service scarce divine<br> +The peoples blest With table, bread, and wine.<br> +He’s but an asse Who the </font><font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono"><i>communion</i></font><font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono"> flies<br> +Who shuns the </font><font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono"><i>masse</i></font><font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono"> Is </font><font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono"><i>catholick</i></font><font face="Courier New,Courier,Mono"> and wise.<br> +<br> +<br> +</font>London: printed for George Eversden, at the signe of the Maidenhead, +in St. Powle’s Church-yard, 1655. <i>Cum privilegio.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +</i>Ballad: THE THREE KNIGHTS. (TRADITIONAL.)<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[<i>The Three Knights</i> was first printed by the late Davies Gilbert, +F.R.S., in the appendix to his work on <i>Christmas Carols</i>. +Mr. Gilbert thought that some verses were wanting after the eighth stanza; +but we entertain a different opinion. A conjectural emendation +made in the ninth verse, viz., the substitution of <i>far</i> for <i>for</i>, +seems to render the ballad perfect. The ballad is still popular +amongst the peasantry in the West of England. The tune is given +by Gilbert. The refrain, in the second and fourth lines, printed +with the first verse, should be repeated in recitation in every verse.]<br> +<br> +<br> +There did three Knights come from the west,<br> +With the high and the lily oh!<br> +And these three Knights courted one ladye,<br> +As the rose was so sweetly blown.<br> +The first Knight came was all in white,<br> +And asked of her if she’d be his delight.<br> +The next Knight came was all in green,<br> +And asked of her if she’d be his queen.<br> +The third Knight came was all in red,<br> +And asked of her if she would wed.<br> +‘Then have you asked of my father dear?<br> +Likewise of her who did me bear?<br> +‘And have you asked of my brother John?<br> +And also of my sister Anne?’<br> +‘Yes, I’ve asked of your father dear,<br> +Likewise of her who did you bear.<br> +‘And I’ve asked of your sister Anne,<br> +But I’ve not asked of your brother John.’<br> +Far on the road as they rode along,<br> +There did they meet with her brother John.<br> +She stoopèd low to kiss him sweet,<br> +He to her heart did a dagger meet. <a name="citation2"></a><a href="#footnote2">{2}</a><br> +‘Ride on, ride on,’ cried the servingman,<br> +‘Methinks your bride she looks wondrous wan.’<br> +‘I wish I were on yonder stile,<br> +For there I would sit and bleed awhile.<br> +‘I wish I were on yonder hill,<br> +There I’d alight and make my will.’<br> +‘What would you give to your father dear?’<br> +‘The gallant steed which doth me bear.’<br> +‘What would you give to your mother dear?’<br> +‘My wedding shift which I do wear.<br> +‘But she must wash it very clean,<br> +For my heart’s blood sticks in every seam.’<br> +‘What would you give to your sister Anne?’<br> +‘My gay gold ring, and my feathered fan.’<br> +‘What would you give to your brother John?’<br> +‘A rope, and a gallows to hang him on.’<br> +‘What would you give to your brother John’s wife?’<br> +‘A widow’s weeds, and a quiet life.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Poem: THE BLIND BEGGAR OF BEDNALL GREEN. SHOWING HOW HIS DAUGHTER +WAS MARRIED TO A KNIGHT, AND HAD THREE THOUSAND POUND TO HER PORTION.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[Percy’s copy of <i>The Beggar’s Daughter of Bednall Green</i> +is known to be very incorrect: besides many alterations and improvements +which it received at the hands of the Bishop, it contains no less than +eight stanzas written by Robert Dodsley, the author of <i>The Economy +of Human Life</i>. So far as poetry is concerned, there cannot +be a question that the version in the <i>Reliques is</i> far superior +to the original, which is still a popular favourite, and a correct copy +of which is now given, as it appears in all the common broadside editions +that have been printed from 1672 to the present time. Although +the original copies have all perished, the ballad has been very satisfactorily +proved by Percy to have been written in the reign of Elizabeth. +The present reprint is from a modern copy, carefully collated with one +in the Bagford Collection, entitled,<br> +<br> +<br> +‘The rarest ballad that ever was seen,<br> +Of the Blind Beggar’s Daughter of Bednal Green.’<br> +<br> +<br> +The imprint to it is, ‘Printed by and for W. Onley; and are to +be sold by C. Bates, at the sign of the Sun and Bible, in Pye Corner.’ +The very antiquated orthography adopted in some editions does not rest +on any authority. For two tunes to <i>The</i> <i>Blind Beggar</i>, +see <i>Popular Music</i>.]<br> +<br> +PART I.<br> +<br> +This song’s of a beggar who long lost his sight,<br> +And had a fair daughter, most pleasant and bright,<br> +And many a gallant brave suitor had she,<br> +And none was so comely as pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +And though she was of complexion most fair,<br> +And seeing she was but a beggar his heir,<br> +Of ancient housekeepers despisèd was she,<br> +Whose sons came as suitors to pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +Wherefore in great sorrow fair Bessee did say:<br> +‘Good father and mother, let me now go away,<br> +To seek out my fortune, whatever it be.’<br> +This suit then was granted to pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +This Bessee, that was of a beauty most bright,<br> +They clad in grey russet; and late in the night<br> +From father and mother alone parted she,<br> +Who sighèd and sobbèd for pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +She went till she came to Stratford-at-Bow,<br> +Then she know not whither or which way to go,<br> +With tears she lamented her sad destiny;<br> +So sad and so heavy was pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +She kept on her journey until it was day,<br> +And went unto Rumford, along the highway;<br> +And at the King’s Arms entertainèd was she,<br> +So fair and well favoured was pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +She had not been there one month at an end,<br> +But master and mistress and all was her friend:<br> +And every brave gallant that once did her see,<br> +Was straightway in love with pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold,<br> +And in their songs daily her love they extolled:<br> +Her beauty was blazèd in every decree,<br> +So fair and so comely was pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +The young men of Rumford in her had their joy,<br> +She showed herself courteous, but never too coy,<br> +And at their commandment still she would be,<br> +So fair and so comely was pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +Four suitors at once unto her did go,<br> +They cravèd her favour, but still she said no;<br> +I would not have gentlemen marry with me!<br> +Yet ever they honourèd pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +Now one of them was a gallant young knight,<br> +And he came unto her disguised in the night;<br> +The second, a gentleman of high degree,<br> +Who wooèd and suèd for pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small,<br> +Was then the third suitor, and proper withal;<br> +Her master’s own son the fourth man must be,<br> +Who swore he would die for pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +‘If that thou wilt marry with me,’ quoth the knight,<br> +‘I’ll make thee a lady with joy and delight;<br> +My heart is enthrallèd in thy fair beauty,<br> +Then grant me thy favour, my pretty Bessee.’<br> +<br> +The gentleman said, ‘Come marry with me,<br> +In silks and in velvet my Bessee shall be;<br> +My heart lies distracted, oh! hear me,’ quoth he,<br> +‘And grant me thy love, my dear pretty Bessee.’<br> +<br> +‘Let me be thy husband,’ the merchant did say,<br> +‘Thou shalt live in London most gallant and gay;<br> +My ships shall bring home rich jewels for thee,<br> +And I will for ever love pretty Bessee.’<br> +<br> +Then Bessee she sighèd and thus she did say:<br> +‘My father and mother I mean to obey;<br> +First get their good will, and be faithful to me,<br> +And you shall enjoy your dear pretty Bessee.’<br> +<br> +To every one of them that answer she made,<br> +Therefore unto her they joyfully said:<br> +‘This thing to fulfil we all now agree,<br> +But where dwells thy father, my pretty Bessee?’<br> +<br> +‘My father,’ quoth she, ‘is soon to be seen:<br> +The silly blind beggar of Bednall Green,<br> +That daily sits begging for charity,<br> +He is the kind father of pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +‘His marks and his token are knowen full well,<br> +He always is led by a dog and a bell;<br> +A poor silly old man, God knoweth, is he,<br> +Yet he’s the true father of pretty Bessee.’<br> +<br> +‘Nay, nay,’ quoth the merchant, ‘thou art not for +me.’<br> +‘She,’ quoth the innholder, ‘my wife shall not be.’<br> +‘I loathe,’ said the gentleman, ‘a beggar’s +degree,<br> +Therefore, now farewell, my pretty Bessee.’<br> +<br> +‘Why then,’ quoth the knight, ‘hap better or worse,<br> +I weigh not true love by the weight of the purse,<br> +And beauty is beauty in every degree,<br> +Then welcome to me, my dear pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +‘With thee to thy father forthwith I will go.’<br> +‘Nay, forbear,’ quoth his kinsman, ‘it must not be +so:<br> +A poor beggar’s daughter a lady shan’t be;<br> +Then take thy adieu of thy pretty Bessee.’<br> +<br> +As soon then as it was break of the day,<br> +The knight had from Rumford stole Bessee away;<br> +The young men of Rumford, so sick as may be,<br> +Rode after to fetch again pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +As swift as the wind to ride they were seen,<br> +Until they came near unto Bednall Green,<br> +And as the knight lighted most courteously,<br> +They fought against him for pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +But rescue came presently over the plain,<br> +Or else the knight there for his love had been slain;<br> +The fray being ended, they straightway did see<br> +His kinsman come railing at pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +Then bespoke the blind beggar, ‘Although I be poor,<br> +Rail not against my child at my own door,<br> +Though she be not deckèd in velvet and pearl,<br> +Yet I will drop angels with thee for my girl;<br> +<br> +‘And then if my gold should better her birth,<br> +And equal the gold you lay on the earth,<br> +Then neither rail you, nor grudge you to see<br> +The blind beggar’s daughter a lady to be.<br> +<br> +‘But first, I will hear, and have it well known,<br> +The gold that you drop it shall be all your own.’<br> +With that they replièd, ‘Contented we be!’<br> +‘Then here’s,’ quoth the beggar, ‘for pretty +Bessee!’<br> +<br> +With that an angel he dropped on the ground,<br> +And droppèd, in angels, full three thousand pound;<br> +And oftentimes it proved most plain,<br> +For the gentleman’s one, the beggar dropped twain;<br> +<br> +So that the whole place wherein they did sit,<br> +With gold was coverèd every whit.<br> +The gentleman having dropped all his store,<br> +Said, ‘Beggar! your hand hold, for I have no more.’<br> +<br> +‘Thou hast fulfillèd thy promise aright,<br> +Then marry my girl,’ quoth he to the knight;<br> +‘And then,’ quoth he, ‘I will throw you down,<br> +An hundred pound more to buy her a gown.’<br> +<br> +The gentlemen all, who his treasure had seen,<br> +Admirèd the beggar of Bednall Green;<br> +And those that had been her suitors before,<br> +Their tender flesh for anger they tore.<br> +<br> +Thus was the fair Bessee matchèd to a knight,<br> +And made a lady in other’s despite.<br> +A fairer lady there never was seen<br> +Than the blind beggar’s daughter of Bednall Green.<br> +<br> +But of her sumptuous marriage and feast,<br> +And what fine lords and ladies there prest,<br> +The second part shall set forth to your sight,<br> +With marvellous pleasure and wished-for delight.<br> +<br> +Of a blind beggar’s daughter so bright,<br> +That late was betrothed to a young knight,<br> +All the whole discourse therefore you may see;<br> +But now comes the wedding of pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +PART II.<br> +<br> +It was in a gallant palace most brave,<br> +Adornèd with all the cost they could have,<br> +This wedding it was kept most sumptuously,<br> +And all for the love of pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +And all kind of dainties and delicates sweet,<br> +Was brought to their banquet, as it was thought meet,<br> +Partridge, and plover, and venison most free,<br> +Against the brave wedding of pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +The wedding through England was spread by report,<br> +So that a great number thereto did resort<br> +Of nobles and gentles of every degree,<br> +And all for the fame of pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +To church then away went this gallant young knight,<br> +His bride followed after, an angel most bright,<br> +With troops of ladies, the like was ne’er seen,<br> +As went with sweet Bessee of Bednall Green.<br> +<br> +This wedding being solemnized then,<br> +With music performèd by skilfullest men,<br> +The nobles and gentlemen down at the side,<br> +Each one beholding the beautiful bride.<br> +<br> +But after the sumptuous dinner was done,<br> +To talk and to reason a number begun,<br> +And of the blind beggar’s daughter most bright;<br> +And what with his daughter he gave to the knight.<br> +<br> +Then spoke the nobles, ‘Much marvel have we<br> +This jolly blind beggar we cannot yet see!’<br> +‘My lords,’ quoth the bride, ‘my father so base<br> +Is loth with his presence these states to disgrace.’<br> +<br> +‘The praise of a woman in question to bring,<br> +Before her own face is a flattering thing;<br> +But we think thy father’s baseness,’ quoth they,<br> +‘Might by thy beauty be clean put away.’<br> +<br> +They no sooner this pleasant word spoke,<br> +But in comes the beggar in a silken cloak,<br> +A velvet cap and a feather had he,<br> +And now a musician, forsooth, he would be.<br> +<br> +And being led in from catching of harm,<br> +He had a dainty lute under his arm,<br> +Said, ‘Please you to hear any music of me,<br> +A song I will sing you of pretty Bessee.’<br> +<br> +With that his lute he twangèd straightway,<br> +And thereon began most sweetly to play,<br> +And after a lesson was played two or three,<br> +He strained out this song most delicately:-<br> +<br> +‘A beggar’s daughter did dwell on a green,<br> +Who for her beauty may well be a queen,<br> +A blithe bonny lass, and dainty was she,<br> +And many one callèd her pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +‘Her father he had no goods nor no lands,<br> +But begged for a penny all day with his hands,<br> +And yet for her marriage gave thousands three,<br> +Yet still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +‘And here if any one do her disdain,<br> +Her father is ready with might and with main<br> +To prove she is come of noble degree,<br> +Therefore let none flout at my pretty Bessee.’<br> +<br> +With that the lords and the company round<br> +With a hearty laughter were ready to swound;<br> +At last said the lords, ‘Full well we may see,<br> +The bride and the bridegroom’s beholden to thee.’<br> +<br> +With that the fair bride all blushing did rise,<br> +With crystal water all in her bright eyes,<br> +‘Pardon my father, brave nobles,’ quoth she,<br> +‘That through blind affection thus doats upon me.’<br> +<br> +‘If this be thy father,’ the nobles did say,<br> +‘Well may he be proud of this happy day,<br> +Yet by his countenance well may we see,<br> +His birth with his fortune could never agree;<br> +<br> +And therefore, blind beggar, we pray thee bewray,<br> +And look to us then the truth thou dost say,<br> +Thy birth and thy parentage what it may be,<br> +E’en for the love thou bearest pretty Bessee.’<br> +<br> +‘Then give me leave, ye gentles each one,<br> +A song more to sing and then I’ll begone,<br> +And if that I do not win good report,<br> +Then do not give me one groat for my sport:-<br> +<br> +‘When first our king his fame did advance,<br> +And sought his title in delicate France,<br> +In many places great perils passed he;<br> +But then was not born my pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +‘And at those wars went over to fight,<br> +Many a brave duke, a lord, and a knight,<br> +And with them young Monford of courage so free;<br> +But then was not born my pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +‘And there did young Monford with a blow on the face<br> +Lose both his eyes in a very short space;<br> +His life had been gone away with his sight,<br> +Had not a young woman gone forth in the night.<br> +<br> +‘Among the said men, her fancy did move,<br> +To search and to seek for her own true love,<br> +Who seeing young Monford there gasping to die,<br> +She savèd his life through her charity.<br> +<br> +‘And then all our victuals in beggar’s attire,<br> +At the hands of good people we then did require;<br> +At last into England, as now it is seen,<br> +We came, and remainèd in Bednall Green.<br> +<br> +‘And thus we have livèd in Fortune’s despite,<br> +Though poor, yet contented with humble delight,<br> +And in my old years, a comfort to me,<br> +God sent me a daughter called pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +And thus, ye nobles, my song I do end,<br> +Hoping by the same no man to offend;<br> +Full forty long winters thus I have been,<br> +A silly blind beggar of Bednall Green.’<br> +<br> +Now when the company every one,<br> +Did hear the strange tale he told in his song,<br> +They were amazèd, as well they might be,<br> +Both at the blind beggar and pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +With that the fair bride they all did embrace,<br> +Saying, ‘You are come of an honourable race,<br> +Thy father likewise is of high degree,<br> +And thou art right worthy a lady to be.’<br> +<br> +Thus was the feast ended with joy and delight,<br> +A happy bridegroom was made the young knight,<br> +Who lived in great joy and felicity,<br> +With his fair lady dear pretty Bessee.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE BOLD PEDLAR AND ROBIN HOOD.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This ballad is of considerable antiquity, and no doubt much older than +some of those inserted in the common Garlands. It appears to have +escaped the notice of Ritson, Percy, and other collectors of Robin Hood +ballads. The tune is given in <i>Popular Music</i>. An aged +woman in Bermondsey, Surrey, from whose oral recitation the present +version was taken down, said that she had often heard her grandmother +sing it, and that it was never in print; but we have since met with +several common stall copies. The subject is the same as that of +the old ballad called <i>Robin Hood</i> <i>newly revived</i>; <i>or, +the Meeting and Fighting with his Cousin</i> <i>Scarlett</i>.]<br> +<br> +<br> +There chanced to be a pedlar bold,<br> +A pedlar bold he chanced to be;<br> +He rolled his pack all on his back,<br> +And he came tripping o’er the lee.<br> +Down, a down, a down, a down,<br> +Down, a down, a down.<br> +<br> +By chance he met two troublesome blades,<br> +Two troublesome blades they chanced to be;<br> +The one of them was bold Robin Hood,<br> +And the other was Little John, so free.<br> +<br> +‘Oh! pedlar, pedlar, what is in thy pack,<br> +Come speedilie and tell to me?’<br> +‘I’ve several suits of the gay green silks,<br> +And silken bowstrings two or three.’<br> +<br> +‘If you have several suits of the gay green silk,<br> +And silken bowstrings two or three,<br> +Then it’s by my body,’ cries <i>bittle</i> John,<br> +‘One half your pack shall belong to me.’<br> +<br> +Oh! nay, oh! nay,’ says the pedlar bold,<br> +‘Oh! nay, oh! nay, that never can be,<br> +For there’s never a man from fair Nottingham<br> +Can take one half my pack from me.’<br> +<br> +Then the pedlar he pulled off his pack,<br> +And put it a little below his knee,<br> +Saying, ‘If you do move me one perch from this,<br> +My pack and all shall gang with thee.’<br> +<br> +Then Little John he drew his sword;<br> +The pedlar by his pack did stand;<br> +They fought until they both did sweat,<br> +Till he cried, ‘Pedlar, pray hold your hand!’<br> +<br> +Then Robin Hood he was standing by,<br> +And he did laugh most heartilie,<br> +Saying, ‘I could find a man of a smaller scale,<br> +Could thrash the pedlar, and also thee.’<br> +<br> +‘Go, you try, master,’ says Little John,<br> +‘Go, you try, master, most speedilie,<br> +Or by my body,’ says Little John,<br> +‘I am sure this night you will not know me.’<br> +<br> +Then Robin Hood he drew his sword,<br> +And the pedlar by his pack did stand,<br> +They fought till the blood in streams did flow,<br> +Till he cried, ‘Pedlar, pray hold your hand!’<br> +<br> +‘Pedlar, pedlar! what is thy name?<br> +Come speedilie and tell to me.’<br> +‘My name! my name, I ne’er will tell,<br> +Till both your names you have told to me.’<br> +<br> +‘The one of us is bold Robin Hood,<br> +And the other Little John, so free.’<br> +‘Now,’ says the pedlar, ‘it lays to my good will,<br> +Whether my name I chuse to tell to thee.<br> +<br> +‘I am Gamble Gold <a name="citation3"></a><a href="#footnote3">{3}</a> +of the gay green woods,<br> +And travellèd far beyond the sea;<br> +For killing a man in my father’s land,<br> +From my country I was forced to flee.’<br> +<br> +‘If you are Gamble Gold of the gay green woods,<br> +And travellèd far beyond the sea,<br> +You are my mother’s own sister’s son;<br> +What nearer cousins then can we be?’<br> +<br> +They sheathèd their swords with friendly words,<br> +So merrily they did agree;<br> +They went to a tavern and there they dined,<br> +And bottles cracked most merrilie.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE OUTLANDISH KNIGHT.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This is the common English stall copy of a ballad of which there are +a variety of versions, for an account of which, and of the presumed +origin of the story, the reader is referred to the notes on the <i>Water +o’ Wearie’s Well</i>, in the <i>Scottish Traditional Versions +of Ancient Ballads</i>, published by the Percy Society. By the +term ‘outlandish’ is signified an inhabitant of that portion +of the border which was formerly known by the name of ‘the Debateable +Land,’ a district which, though claimed by both England and Scotland, +could not be said to belong to either country. The people on each +side of the border applied the term ‘outlandish’ to the +Debateable residents. The tune to <i>The Outlandish Knight</i> +has never been printed; it is peculiar to the ballad, and, from its +popularity, is well known.]<br> +<br> +<br> +An Outlandish knight came from the North lands,<br> +And he came a wooing to me;<br> +He told me he’d take me unto the North lands,<br> +And there he would marry me.<br> +<br> +‘Come, fetch me some of your father’s gold,<br> +And some of your mother’s fee;<br> +And two of the best nags out of the stable,<br> +Where they stand thirty and three.’<br> +<br> +She fetched him some of her father’s gold,<br> +And some of the mother’s fee;<br> +And two of the best nags out of the stable,<br> +Where they stood thirty and three.<br> +<br> +She mounted her on her milk-white steed,<br> +He on the dapple grey;<br> +They rode till they came unto the sea side,<br> +Three hours before it was day.<br> +<br> +‘Light off, light off thy milk-white steed,<br> +And deliver it unto me;<br> +Six pretty maids have I drownèd here,<br> +And thou the seventh shall be.<br> +<br> +‘Pull off, pull off thy silken gown,<br> +And deliver it unto me,<br> +Methinks it looks too rich and too gay<br> +To rot in the salt sea.<br> +<br> +‘Pull off, pull of thy silken stays,<br> +And deliver them unto me;<br> +Methinks they are too fine and gay<br> +To rot in the salt sea.<br> +<br> +‘Pull off, pull off thy Holland smock,<br> +And deliver it unto me;<br> +Methinks it looks too rich and gay,<br> +To rot in the salt sea.’<br> +<br> +‘If I must pull off my Holland smock,<br> +Pray turn thy back unto me,<br> +For it is not fitting that such a ruffian<br> +A naked woman should see.’<br> +<br> +He turned his back towards her,<br> +And viewed the leaves so green;<br> +She catched him round the middle so small,<br> +And tumbled him into the stream.<br> +<br> +He droppèd high, and he droppèd low,<br> +Until he came to the side, -<br> +‘Catch hold of my hand, my pretty maiden,<br> +And I will make you my bride.’<br> +<br> +‘Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man,<br> +Lie there instead of me;<br> +Six pretty maids have you drownèd here,<br> +And the seventh has drownèd thee.’<br> +<br> +She mounted on her milk-white steed,<br> +And led the dapple grey,<br> +She rode till she came to her own father’s hall,<br> +Three hours before it was day.<br> +<br> +The parrot being in the window so high,<br> +Hearing the lady, did say,<br> +‘I’m afraid that some ruffian has led you astray,<br> +That you have tarried so long away.’<br> +<br> +‘Don’t prittle nor prattle, my pretty parrot,<br> +Nor tell no tales of me;<br> +Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold,<br> +Although it is made of a tree.’<br> +<br> +The king being in the chamber so high,<br> +And hearing the parrot, did say,<br> +‘What ails you, what ails you, my pretty parrot,<br> +That you prattle so long before day?’<br> +<br> +‘It’s no laughing matter,’ the parrot did say,<br> +‘But so loudly I call unto thee;<br> +For the cats have got into the window so high,<br> +And I’m afraid they will have me.’<br> +<br> +‘Well turned, well turned, my pretty parrot,<br> +Well turned, well turned for me;<br> +Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold,<br> +And the door of the best ivory.’ <a name="citation4"></a><a href="#footnote4">{4}</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: LORD DELAWARE. (TRADITIONAL.)<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This interesting traditional ballad was first published by Mr. Thomas +Lyle in his <i>Ancient Ballads and Songs</i>, London, 1827. ‘We +have not as yet,’ says Mr. Lyle, ‘been able to trace out +the historical incident upon which this ballad appears to have been +founded; yet those curious in such matters may consult, if they list, +<i>Proceedings and Debates in the House of Commons</i>, for 1621 and +1662, where they will find that some stormy debating in these several +years had been agitated in parliament regarding the corn laws, which +bear pretty close upon the leading features of the ballad.’ +Does not the ballad, however, belong to a much earlier period? +The description of the combat, the presence of heralds, the wearing +of armour, &c., justify the conjecture. For De la Ware, ought +we not to read De la Mare? and is not Sir Thomas De la Mare the hero? +the De la Mare who in the reign of Edward III., A.D. 1377, was Speaker +of the House of Commons. All historians are agreed in representing +him as a person using ‘great freedom of speach,’ and which, +indeed, he carried to such an extent as to endanger his personal liberty. +As bearing somewhat upon the subject of the ballad, it may he observed +that De la Mare was a great advocate of popular rights, and particularly +protested against the inhabitants of England being subject to ‘purveyance,’ +asserting that ‘if the royal revenue was faithfully administered, +there could be no necessity for laying burdens on the people.’ +In the subsequent reign of Richard II, De In Mare was a prominent character, +and though history is silent on the subject, it is not improbable that +such a man might, even in the royal presence, have defended the rights +of the poor, and spoken in extenuation of the agrarian insurrectionary +movements which were then so prevalent and so alarming. On the +hypothesis of De la Mare being the hero, there are other incidents in +the tale which cannot be reconciled with history, such as the title +given to De la Mare, who certainly was never ennobled; nor can we ascertain +that he was ever mixed up in any duel; nor does it appear clear who +can be meant by the ‘Welsh Lord, the brave Duke of Devonshire,’ +that dukedom not having been created till 1694 and no nobleman having +derived any title whatever from Devonshire previously to 1618, when +Baron Cavendish, of Hardwick, was created the first <i>Earl</i> of Devonshire. +We may therefore presume that for ‘Devonshire’ ought to +be inserted the name of some other county or place. Strict historical +accuracy is, however, hardly to be expected in any ballad, particularly +in one which, like the present, has evidently been corrupted in floating +down the stream of time. There is only one quarrel recorded at +the supposed period of our tale as having taken place betwixt two noblemen, +and which resulted in a hostile meeting, viz., that wherein the belligerent +parties were the Duke of Hereford (who might by a ‘ballad-monger’ +be deemed a <i>Welsh</i> lord) and the Duke of Norfolk. This was +in the reign of Richard II. No fight, however, took place, owing +to the interference of the king. Our minstrel author may have +had rather confused historical ideas, and so mixed up certain passages +in De la Mare’s history with this squabble; and we are strongly +inclined to suspect that such is the case, and that it will be found +the real clue to the story. Vide Hume’s <i>History of England</i>, +chap. XVII. A.D. 1398. Lyle acknowledges that he has taken some +liberties with the oral version, but does not state what they were, +beyond that they consisted merely in ‘smoothing down.’ +Would that he had left it ‘in the <i>rough</i>!’ The +last verse has every appearance of being apocryphal; it looks like one +of those benedictory verses with which minstrels were, and still are, +in the habit of concluding their songs. Lyle says the tune ‘is +pleasing, and peculiar to the ballad.’ A homely version, +presenting only trivial variations from that of Mr. Lyle, is still printed +and sung.]<br> +<br> +<br> +In the Parliament House, a great rout has been there,<br> +Betwixt our good King and the Lord Delaware:<br> +Says Lord Delaware to his Majesty full soon,<br> +‘Will it please you, my liege, to grant me a boon?’<br> +<br> +‘What’s your boon,’ says the King, ‘now let +me understand?’<br> +‘It’s, give me all the poor men we’ve starving in +this land;<br> +And without delay, I’ll hie me to Lincolnshire,<br> +To sow hemp-seed and flax-seed, and hang them all there.<br> +<br> +‘For with hempen cord it’s better to stop each poor man’s +breath,<br> +Than with famine you should see your subjects starve to death.’<br> +Up starts a Dutch Lord, who to Delaware did say,<br> +‘Thou deserves to be stabbed!’ then he turned himself away;<br> +<br> +‘Thou deserves to be stabbed, and the dogs have thine ears,<br> +For insulting our King in this Parliament of peers.’<br> +Up sprang a Welsh Lord, the brave Duke of Devonshire,<br> +‘In young Delaware’s defence, I’ll fight this Dutch +Lord, my sire;<br> +<br> +‘For he is in the right, and I’ll make it so appear:<br> +Him I dare to single combat, for insulting Delaware.’<br> +A stage was soon erected, and to combat they went,<br> +For to kill, or to be killed, it was either’s full intent.<br> +<br> +But the very first flourish, when the heralds gave command,<br> +The sword of brave Devonshire bent backward on his hand;<br> +In suspense he paused awhile, scanned his foe before he strake,<br> +Then against the King’s armour, his bent sword he brake.<br> +<br> +Then he sprang from the stage, to a soldier in the ring,<br> +Saying, ‘Lend your sword, that to an end this tragedy we bring:<br> +Though he’s fighting me in armour, while I am fighting bare,<br> +Even more than this I’d venture for young Lord Delaware.’<br> +<br> +Leaping back on the stage, sword to buckler now resounds,<br> +Till he left the Dutch Lord a bleeding in his wounds:<br> +This seeing, cries the King to his guards without delay,<br> +‘Call Devonshire down, - take the dead man away!’<br> +<br> +‘No,’ says brave Devonshire, ‘I’ve fought him +as a man,<br> +Since he’s dead, I will keep the trophies I have won;<br> +For he fought me in your armour, while I fought him bare,<br> +And the same you must win back, my liege, if ever you them wear.’<br> +<br> +God bless the Church of England, may it prosper on each hand,<br> +And also every poor man now starving in this land;<br> +And while I pray success may crown our King upon his throne,<br> +I’ll wish that every poor man may long enjoy his own.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: LORD BATEMAN.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This is a ludicrously corrupt abridgment of the ballad of <i>Lord</i> +<i>Beichan</i>, a copy of which will be found inserted amongst the <i>Early +Ballads</i>, An. Ed. p. 144. The following grotesque version was +published several years ago by Tilt, London, and also, according to +the title-page, by Mustapha Syried, Constantinople! under the title +of <i>The loving Ballad of Lord Bateman</i>. It is, however, the +only ancient form in which the ballad has existed in print, and is one +of the publications mentioned in Thackeray’s Catalogue, see <i>ante</i>, +p. 20. The air printed in Tilt’s edition is the one to which +the ballad is sung in the South of England, but it is totally different +to the Northern tune, which has never been published.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Lord Bateman he was a noble lord,<br> +A noble lord of high degree;<br> +He shipped himself on board a ship,<br> +Some foreign country he would go see.<br> +<br> +He sailèd east, and he sailèd west,<br> +Until he came to proud Turkèy;<br> +Where he was taken, and put to prison,<br> +Until his life was almost weary.<br> +<br> +And in this prison there grew a tree,<br> +It grew so stout, and grew so strong;<br> +Where he was chainèd by the middle,<br> +Until his life was almost gone.<br> +<br> +This Turk he had one only daughter,<br> +The fairest creature my eyes did see;<br> +She stole the keys of her father’s prison,<br> +And swore Lord Bateman she would set free.<br> +<br> +‘Have you got houses? have you got lands?<br> +Or does Northumberland belong to thee?<br> +What would you give to the fair young lady<br> +That out of prison would set you free?’<br> +<br> +‘I have got houses, I have got lands,<br> +And half Northumberland belongs to me<br> +I’ll give it all to the fair young lady<br> +That out of prison would set me free.’<br> +<br> +O! then she took him to her father’s hall,<br> +And gave to him the best of wine;<br> +And every health she drank unto him,<br> +‘I wish, Lord Bateman, that you were mine!<br> +<br> +‘Now in seven years I’ll make a vow,<br> +And seven years I’ll keep it strong,<br> +If you’ll wed with no other woman,<br> +I will wed with no other man.’<br> +<br> +O! then she took him to her father’s harbour,<br> +And gave to him a ship of fame;<br> +‘Farewell, farewell to you, Lord Bateman,<br> +I’m afraid I ne’er shall see you again.’<br> +<br> +Now seven long years are gone and past,<br> +And fourteen days, well known to thee;<br> +She packed up all her gay clothing,<br> +And swore Lord Bateman she would go see.<br> +<br> +But when she came to Lord Bateman’s castle,<br> +So boldly she rang the bell;<br> +‘Who’s there? who’s there?’ cried the proud +portèr,<br> +‘Who’s there? unto me come tell.’<br> +<br> +‘O! is this Lord Bateman’s castle?<br> +Or is his Lordship here within?’<br> +‘O, yes! O, yes!’ cried the young portèr,<br> +‘He’s just now taken his new bride in.’<br> +<br> +‘O! tell him to send me a slice of bread,<br> +And a bottle of the best wine;<br> +And not forgetting the fair young lady<br> +Who did release him when close confine.’<br> +<br> +Away, away went this proud young porter,<br> +Away, away, and away went he,<br> +Until he came to Lord Bateman’s chamber,<br> +Down on his bended knees fell he.<br> +<br> +‘What news, what news, my proud young porter?<br> +What news hast thou brought unto me?’<br> +‘There is the fairest of all young creatures<br> +That ever my two eyes did see!<br> +<br> +‘She has got rings on every finger,<br> +And round one of them she has got three,<br> +And as much gay clothing round her middle<br> +As would buy all Northumberlea.<br> +<br> +‘She bids you send her a slice of bread,<br> +And a bottle of the best wine;<br> +And not forgetting the fair young lady<br> +Who did release you when close confine.’<br> +<br> +Lord Bateman he then in a passion flew,<br> +And broke his sword in splinters three;<br> +Saying, ‘I will give all my father’s riches<br> +If Sophia has crossed the sea.’<br> +<br> +Then up spoke the young bride’s mother,<br> +Who never was heard to speak so free,<br> +‘You’ll not forget my only daughter,<br> +If Sophia has crossed the sea.’<br> +<br> +‘I own I made a bride of your daughter,<br> +She’s neither the better nor worse for me;<br> +She came to me with her horse and saddle,<br> +She may go back in her coach and three.’<br> +<br> +Lord Bateman prepared another marriage,<br> +And sang, with heart so full of glee,<br> +I’ll range no more in foreign countries,<br> +Now since Sophia has crossed the sea.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE GOLDEN GLOVE; OR, THE SQUIRE OF TAMWORTH.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This is a very popular ballad, and sung in every part of England. +It is traditionally reported to be founded on an incident which occurred +in the reign of Elizabeth. It has been published in the broadside +form from the commencement of the eighteenth century, but is no doubt +much older. It does not appear to have been previously inserted +in any collection.]<br> +<br> +<br> +A wealthy young squire of Tamworth, we hear,<br> +He courted a nobleman’s daughter so fair;<br> +And for to marry her it was his intent,<br> +All friends and relations gave their consent.<br> +<br> +The time was appointed for the wedding-day,<br> +A young farmer chosen to give her away;<br> +As soon as the farmer the young lady did spy,<br> +He inflamèd her heart; ‘O, my heart!’ she did cry.<br> +<br> +She turned from the squire, but nothing she said,<br> +Instead of being married she took to her bed;<br> +The thought of the farmer soon run in her mind,<br> +A way for to have him she quickly did find.<br> +<br> +Coat, waistcoat, and breeches she then did put on,<br> +And a hunting she went with her dog and her gun;<br> +She hunted all round where the farmer did dwell,<br> +Because in her heart she did love him full well:<br> +<br> +She oftentimes fired, but nothing she killed,<br> +At length the young farmer came into the field;<br> +And to discourse with him it was her intent,<br> +With her dog and her gun to meet him she went.<br> +<br> +‘I thought you had been at the wedding,’ she cried,<br> +‘To wait on the squire, and give him his bride.’<br> +‘No, sir,’ said the farmer, ‘if the truth I may tell,<br> +I’ll not give her away, for I love her too well’<br> +<br> +‘Suppose that the lady should grant you her love,<br> +You know that the squire your rival will prove.’<br> +‘Why, then,’ says the farmer, ‘I’ll take sword +in hand,<br> +By honour I’ll gain her when she shall command.’<br> +<br> +It pleasèd the lady to find him so bold;<br> +She gave him a glove that was flowered with gold,<br> +And told him she found it when coming along,<br> +As she was a hunting with her dog and gun.<br> +<br> +The lady went home with a heart full of love,<br> +And gave out a notice that she’d lost a glove;<br> +And said, ‘Who has found it, and brings it to me,<br> +Whoever he is, he my husband shall be.’<br> +<br> +The farmer was pleased when he heard of the news,<br> +With heart full of joy to the lady he goes:<br> +‘Dear, honoured lady, I’ve picked up your glove,<br> +And hope you’ll be pleased to grant me your love.’<br> +<br> +‘It’s already granted, I will be your bride;<br> +I love the sweet breath of a farmer,’ she cried.<br> +‘I’ll be mistress of my dairy, and milking my cow,<br> +While my jolly brisk farmer is whistling at plough.’<br> +<br> +And when she was married she told of her fun,<br> +How she went a hunting with her dog and gun:<br> +‘And now I’ve got him so fast in my snare,<br> +I’ll enjoy him for ever, I vow and declare!’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: KING JAMES I. AND THE TINKLER. <a name="citation5"></a><a href="#footnote5">{5}</a> +(TRADITIONAL.)<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This ballad of <i>King James I. and the Tinkler</i> was probably written +either in, or shortly after, the reign of the monarch who is the hero. +The incident recorded is said to be a fact, though the locality is doubtful. +By some the scene is laid at Norwood, in Surrey; by others in some part +of the English border. The ballad is alluded to by Percy, but +is not inserted either in the <i>Reliques</i>, or in any other popular +collection. It is to be found only in a few broadsides and chap-books +of modern date. The present version is a traditional one, taken +down, as here given, from the recital of the late Francis King. <a name="citation6"></a><a href="#footnote6">{6}</a> +It is much superior to the common broadside edition with which it has +been collated, and from which the thirteenth and fifteenth verses were +obtained. The ballad is very popular on the Border, and in the +dales of Cumberland, Westmoreland, and Craven. The late Robert +Anderson, the Cumbrian bard, represents Deavie, in his song of the <i>Clay +Daubin</i>, as singing <i>The King and the</i> <i>Tinkler</i>.]<br> +<br> +<br> +And now, to be brief, let’s pass over the rest,<br> +Who seldom or never were given to jest,<br> +And come to King Jamie, the first of our throne,<br> +A pleasanter monarch sure never was known.<br> +<br> +As he was a hunting the swift fallow-deer,<br> +He dropped all his nobles; and when he got clear,<br> +In hope of some pastime away he did ride,<br> +Till he came to an alehouse, hard by a wood-side.<br> +<br> +And there with a tinkler he happened to meet,<br> +And him in kind sort he so freely did greet:<br> +‘Pray thee, good fellow, what hast in thy jug,<br> +Which under thy arm thou dost lovingly hug?’<br> +<br> +‘By the mass!’ quoth the tinkler, ‘it’s nappy +brown ale,<br> +And for to drink to thee, friend, I will not fail;<br> +For although thy jacket looks gallant and fine,<br> +I think that my twopence as good is as thine.’<br> +<br> +‘By my soul! honest fellow, the truth thou hast spoke,’<br> +And straight he sat down with the tinkler to joke;<br> +They drank to the King, and they pledged to each other;<br> +Who’d seen ’em had thought they were brother and brother.<br> +<br> +As they were a-drinking the King pleased to say,<br> +‘What news, honest fellow? come tell me, I pray?’<br> +‘There’s nothing of news, beyond that I hear<br> +The King’s on the border a-chasing the deer.<br> +<br> +‘And truly I wish I so happy may be<br> +Whilst he is a hunting the King I might see;<br> +For although I’ve travelled the land many ways<br> +I never have yet seen a King in my days.’<br> +<br> +The King, with a hearty brisk laughter, replied,<br> +‘I tell thee, good fellow, if thou canst but ride,<br> +Thou shalt get up behind me, and I will thee bring<br> +To the presence of Jamie, thy sovereign King.’<br> +<br> +‘But he’ll be surrounded with nobles so gay,<br> +And how shall we tell him from them, sir, I pray?’<br> +‘Thou’lt easily ken him when once thou art there;<br> +The King will be covered, his nobles all bare.’<br> +<br> +He got up behind him and likewise his sack,<br> +His budget of leather, and tools at his back;<br> +They rode till they came to the merry greenwood,<br> +His nobles came round him, bareheaded they stood.<br> +<br> +The tinkler then seeing so many appear,<br> +He slily did whisper the King in his ear:<br> +Saying, ‘They’re all clothed so gloriously gay,<br> +But which amongst them is the King, sir, I pray?’<br> +<br> +The King did with hearty good laughter, reply,<br> +‘By my soul! my good fellow, it’s thou or it’s I!<br> +The rest are bareheaded, uncovered all round.’ -<br> +With his bag and his budget he fell to the ground,<br> +<br> +Like one that was frightened quite out of his wits,<br> +Then on his knees he instantly gets,<br> +Beseeching for mercy; the King to him said,<br> +‘Thou art a good fellow, so be not afraid.<br> +<br> +‘Come, tell thy name?’ ‘I am John of the Dale,<br> +A mender of kettles, a lover of ale.’<br> +‘Rise up, Sir John, I will honour thee here, -<br> +I make thee a knight of three thousand a year!’<br> +<br> +This was a good thing for the tinkler indeed;<br> +Then unto the court he was sent for with speed,<br> +Where great store of pleasure and pastime was seen,<br> +In the royal presence of King and of Queen.<br> +<br> +Sir John of the Dale he has land, he has fee,<br> +At the court of the king who so happy as he?<br> +Yet still in his hall hangs the tinkler’s old sack,<br> +And the budget of tools which he bore at his back.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE KEACH I’ THE CREEL.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This old and very humorous ballad has long been a favourite on both +sides of the Border, but had never appeared in print till about 1845, +when a Northumbrian gentleman printed a few copies for private circulation, +from one of which the following is taken. In the present impression +some trifling typographical mistakes are corrected, and the phraseology +has been rendered uniform throughout. <i>Keach i’ the Creel</i> +means the catch in the basket.]<br> +<br> +<br> +A fair young May went up the street,<br> +Some white fish for to buy;<br> +And a bonny clerk’s fa’n i’ luve wi’ her,<br> +And he’s followed her by and by, by,<br> +And he’s followed her by and by.<br> +<br> +‘O! where live ye my bonny lass,<br> +I pray thee tell to me;<br> +For gin the nicht were ever sae mirk,<br> +I wad come and visit thee, thee;<br> +I wad come and visit thee.’<br> +<br> +‘O! my father he aye locks the door,<br> +My mither keeps the key;<br> +And gin ye were ever sic a wily wicht,<br> +Ye canna win in to me, me;<br> +Ye canna win in to me.’<br> +<br> +But the clerk he had ae true brother,<br> +And a wily wicht was he;<br> +And he has made a lang ladder,<br> +Was thirty steps and three, three;<br> +Was thirty steps and three.<br> +<br> +He has made a cleek but and a creel -<br> +A creel but and a pin;<br> +And he’s away to the chimley-top,<br> +And he’s letten the bonny clerk in, in;<br> +And he’s letten the bonny clerk in.<br> +<br> +The auld wife, being not asleep,<br> +Tho’ late, late was the hour;<br> +I’ll lay my life,’ quo’ the silly auld wife,<br> +‘There’s a man i’ our dochter’s bower, bower;<br> +There’s a man i’ our dochter’s bower.’<br> +<br> +The auld man he gat owre the bed,<br> +To see if the thing was true;<br> +But she’s ta’en the bonny clerk in her arms,<br> +And covered him owre wi’ blue, blue;<br> +And covered him owre wi’ blue.<br> +<br> +‘O! where are ye gaun now, father?’ she says,<br> +‘And where are ye gaun sae late?<br> +Ye’ve disturbed me in my evening prayers,<br> +And O! but they were sweit, sweit;<br> +And O! but they were sweit.’<br> +<br> +‘O! ill betide ye, silly auld wife,<br> +And an ill death may ye dee;<br> +She has the muckle buik in her arms,<br> +And she’s prayin’ for you and me, me;<br> +And she’s prayin’ for you and me.’<br> +<br> +The auld wife being not asleep,<br> +Then something mair was said;<br> +‘I’ll lay my life,’ quo’ the silly auld wife,<br> +‘There’s a man by our dochter’s bed, bed;<br> +There’s a man by our dochter’s bed.’<br> +<br> +The auld wife she gat owre the bed,<br> +To see if the thing was true;<br> +But what the wrack took the auld wife’s fit?<br> +For into the creel she flew, flew;<br> +For into the creel she flew.<br> +<br> +The man that was at the chimley-top,<br> +Finding the creel was fu’,<br> +He wrappit the rape round his left shouther,<br> +And fast to him he drew, drew:<br> +And fast to him he drew.<br> +<br> +‘O, help! O, help! O, hinny, noo, help!<br> +O, help! O, hinny, do!<br> +For <i>him</i> that ye aye wished me at,<br> +He’s carryin’ me off just noo, noo;<br> +He’s carryin’ me off just noo.’<br> +<br> +‘O! if the foul thief’s gotten ye,<br> +I wish he may keep his haud;<br> +For a’ the lee lang winter nicht,<br> +Ye’ll never lie in your bed, bed;<br> +Ye’ll never lie in your bed.’<br> +<br> +He’s towed her up, he’s towed her down,<br> +He’s towed her through an’ through;<br> +‘O, Gude! assist,’ quo’ the silly auld wife,<br> +‘For I’m just departin’ noo, noo;<br> +For I’m just departin’ noo.’<br> +<br> +He’s towed her up, he’s towed her down,<br> +He’s gien her a richt down fa’,<br> +Till every rib i’ the auld wife’s side,<br> +Played nick nack on the wa’, wa’;<br> +Played nick nack on the wa’.<br> +<br> +O! the blue, the bonny, bonny blue,<br> +And I wish the blue may do weel;<br> +And every auld wife that’s sae jealous o’ her dochter,<br> +May she get a good keach i’ the creel, creel;<br> +May she get a good keach i’ the creel!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE MERRY BROOMFIELD; OR, THE WEST COUNTRY WAGER.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This old West-country ballad was one of the broadsides printed at the +Aldermary press. We have not met with any older impression, though +we have been assured that there are black-letter copies. In Scott’s +<i>Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border</i> is a ballad called the <i>Broomfield +Hill</i>; it is a mere fragment, but is evidently taken from the present +ballad, and can be considered only as one of the many modern antiques +to be found in that work.]<br> +<br> +<br> +A noble young squire that lived in the West,<br> +He courted a young lady gay;<br> +And as he was merry he put forth a jest,<br> +A wager with her he would lay.<br> +<br> +‘A wager with me,’ the young lady replied,<br> +‘I pray about what must it be?<br> +If I like the humour you shan’t be denied,<br> +I love to be merry and free.’<br> +<br> +Quoth he, ‘I will lay you a hundred pounds,<br> +A hundred pounds, aye, and ten,<br> +That a maid if you go to the merry Broomfield,<br> +That a maid you return not again.’<br> +<br> +‘I’ll lay you that wager,’ the lady she said,<br> +Then the money she flung down amain;<br> +‘To the merry Broomfield I’ll go a pure maid,<br> +The same I’ll return home again.’<br> +<br> +He covered her bet in the midst of the hall,<br> +With a hundred and ten jolly pounds;<br> +And then to his servant he straightway did call,<br> +For to bring forth his hawk and his hounds.<br> +<br> +A ready obedience the servant did yield,<br> +And all was made ready o’er night;<br> +Next morning he went to the merry Broomfield,<br> +To meet with his love and delight.<br> +<br> +Now when he came there, having waited a while,<br> +Among the green broom down he lies;<br> +The lady came to him, and could not but smile,<br> +For sleep then had closèd his eyes.<br> +<br> +Upon his right hand a gold ring she secured,<br> +Drawn from her own fingers so fair;<br> +That when he awakèd he might be assured<br> +His lady and love had been there.<br> +<br> +She left him a posie of pleasant perfume,<br> +Then stepped from the place where he lay,<br> +Then hid herself close in the besom of broom,<br> +To hear what her true love did say.<br> +<br> +He wakened and found the gold ring on his hand,<br> +Then sorrow of heart he was in;<br> +‘My love has been here, I do well understand,<br> +And this wager I now shall not win.<br> +<br> +‘Oh! where was you, my goodly goshawk,<br> +The which I have purchased so dear,<br> +Why did you not waken me out of my sleep,<br> +When the lady, my love, was here?’<br> +<br> +‘O! with my bells did I ring, master,<br> +And eke with my feet did I run;<br> +And still did I cry, pray awake! master,<br> +She’s here now, and soon will be gone.’<br> +<br> +‘O! where was you, my gallant greyhound,<br> +Whose collar is flourished with gold;<br> +Why hadst thou not wakened me out of my sleep,<br> +When thou didst my lady behold?’<br> +<br> +‘Dear master, I barked with my mouth when she came,<br> +And likewise my collar I shook;<br> +And told you that here was the beautiful dame,<br> +But no notice of me then you took.’<br> +<br> +‘O! where wast thou, my servingman,<br> +Whom I have clothèd so fine?<br> +If you had waked me when she was here,<br> +The wager then had been mine.’<br> +<br> +In the night you should have slept, master,<br> +And kept awake in the day;<br> +Had you not been sleeping when hither she came,<br> +Then a maid she had not gone away.’<br> +<br> +Then home he returned when the wager was lost,<br> +With sorrow of heart, I may say;<br> +The lady she laughed to find her love crost, -<br> +This was upon midsummer-day.<br> +<br> +‘O, squire! I laid in the bushes concealed,<br> +And heard you, when you did complain;<br> +And thus I have been to the merry Broomfield,<br> +And a maid returned back again.<br> +<br> +‘Be cheerful! be cheerful! and do not repine,<br> +For now ’tis as clear as the sun,<br> +The money, the money, the money is mine,<br> +The wager I fairly have won.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: SIR JOHN BARLEYCORN.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The West-country ballad of <i>Sir John Barleycorn</i> is very ancient, +and being the only version that has ever been sung at English merry-makings +and country feasts, can certainly set up a better claim to antiquity +than any of the three ballads on the same subject to be found in Evans’s +<i>Old Ballads</i>; viz., <i>John Barleycorn</i>, <i>The Little Barleycorn</i>, +and <i>Mas Mault</i>. Our west-country version bears the greatest +resemblance to <i>The Little Barleycorn</i>, but it is very dissimilar +to any of the three. Burns altered the old ditty, but on referring +to his version it will be seen that his corrections and additions want +the simplicity of the original, and certainly cannot be considered improvements. +The common ballad does not appear to have been inserted in any of our +popular collections. <i>Sir John Barleycorn</i> is very appropriately +sung to the tune of <i>Stingo</i>. See <i>Popular Music</i>, p. +305.]<br> +<br> +<br> +There came three men out of the West,<br> +Their victory to try;<br> +And they have taken a solemn oath,<br> +Poor Barleycorn should die.<br> +<br> +They took a plough and ploughed him in,<br> +And harrowed clods on his head;<br> +And then they took a solemn oath,<br> +Poor Barleycorn was dead.<br> +<br> +There he lay sleeping in the ground,<br> +Till rain from the sky did fall:<br> +Then Barleycorn sprung up his head,<br> +And so amazed them all.<br> +<br> +There he remained till Midsummer,<br> +And looked both pale and wan;<br> +Then Barleycorn he got a beard,<br> +And so became a man.<br> +<br> +Then they sent men with scythes so sharp,<br> +To cut him off at knee;<br> +And then poor little Barleycorn,<br> +They served him barbarously.<br> +<br> +Then they sent men with pitchforks strong<br> +To pierce him through the heart;<br> +And like a dreadful tragedy,<br> +They bound him to a cart.<br> +<br> +And then they brought him to a barn,<br> +A prisoner to endure;<br> +And so they fetched him out again,<br> +And laid him on the floor.<br> +<br> +Then they set men with holly clubs,<br> +To beat the flesh from his bones;<br> +But the miller he served him worse than that,<br> +For he ground him betwixt two stones.<br> +<br> +O! Barleycorn is the choicest grain<br> +That ever was sown on land;<br> +It will do more than any grain,<br> +By the turning of your hand.<br> +<br> +It will make a boy into a man,<br> +And a man into an ass;<br> +It will change your gold into silver,<br> +And your silver into brass.<br> +<br> +It will make the huntsman hunt the fox,<br> +That never wound his horn;<br> +It will bring the tinker to the stocks,<br> +That people may him scorn.<br> +<br> +It will put sack into a glass,<br> +And claret in the can;<br> +And it will cause a man to drink<br> +Till he neither can go nor stand.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: BLOW THE WINDS, I-HO!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This Northumbrian ballad is of great antiquity, and bears considerable +resemblance to <i>The Baffled Knight</i>; <i>or, Lady’s</i> <i>Policy</i>, +inserted in Percy’s <i>Reliques</i>. It is not in any popular +collection. In the broadside from which it is here printed, the +title and chorus are given, <i>Blow the Winds, I-O</i>, a form common +to many ballads and songs, but only to those of great antiquity. +Chappell, in his <i>Popular Music</i>, has an example in a song as old +as 1698:-<br> +<br> +‘Here’s a health to jolly Bacchus,<br> +I-ho! I-ho! I-ho!’<br> +<br> +and in another well-known old catch the same form appears:-<br> +<br> +‘A pye sat on a pear-tree,<br> +I-ho, I-ho, I-ho.’<br> +<br> +‘Io!’ or, as we find it given in these lyrics, ‘I-ho!’ +was an ancient form of acclamation or triumph on joyful occasions and +anniversaries. It is common, with slight variations, to different +languages. In the Gothic, for example, Iola signifies to make +merry. It has been supposed by some etymologists that the word +‘yule’ is a corruption of ‘Io!’]<br> +<br> +<br> +There was a shepherd’s son,<br> +He kept sheep on yonder hill;<br> +He laid his pipe and his crook aside,<br> +And there he slept his fill.<br> +<br> +And blow the winds, I-ho!<br> +Sing, blow the winds, I-ho!<br> +Clear away the morning dew,<br> +And blow the winds, I-ho!<br> +<br> +He lookèd east, and he lookèd west,<br> +He took another look,<br> +And there he spied a lady gay,<br> +Was dipping in a brook.<br> +<br> +She said, ‘Sir, don’t touch my mantle,<br> +Come, let my clothes alone;<br> +I will give you as much monèy<br> +As you can carry home.’<br> +<br> +‘I will not touch your mantle,<br> +I’ll let your clothes alone;<br> +I’ll take you out of the water clear,<br> +My dear, to be my own.’<br> +<br> +He did not touch her mantle,<br> +He let her clothes alone;<br> +But he took her from the clear water,<br> +And all to be his own.<br> +<br> +He set her on a milk-white steed,<br> +Himself upon another;<br> +And there they rode along the road,<br> +Like sister, and like brother.<br> +<br> +And as they rode along the road,<br> +He spied some cocks of hay;<br> +‘Yonder,’ he says, ‘is a lovely place<br> +For men and maids to play!’<br> +<br> +And when they came to her father’s gate,<br> +She pullèd at a ring;<br> +And ready was the proud portèr<br> +For to let the lady in.<br> +<br> +And when the gates were open,<br> +This lady jumpèd in;<br> +She says, ‘You are a fool without,<br> +And I’m a maid within.<br> +<br> +‘Good morrow to you, modest boy,<br> +I thank you for your care;<br> +If you had been what you should have been,<br> +I would not have left you there.<br> +<br> +‘There is a horse in my father’s stable,<br> +He stands beyond the thorn;<br> +He shakes his head above the trough,<br> +But dares not prie the corn.<br> +<br> +‘There is a bird in my father’s flock,<br> +A double comb he wears;<br> +He flaps his wings, and crows full loud,<br> +But a capon’s crest he bears.<br> +<br> +‘There is a flower in my father’s garden,<br> +They call it marygold;<br> +The fool that will not when he may,<br> +He shall not when he wold.’<br> +<br> +Said the shepherd’s son, as he doft his shoon,<br> +‘My feet they shall run bare,<br> +And if ever I meet another maid,<br> +I rede that maid beware.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE BEAUTIFUL LADY OF KENT; OR, THE SEAMAN OF DOVER.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[We have met with two copies of this genuine English ballad; the older +one is without printer’s name, but from the appearance of the +type and the paper, it must have been published about the middle of +the last century. It is certainly not one of the original impressions, +for the other copy, though of recent date, has evidently been taken +from some still older and better edition. In the modern broadside +the ballad is in four parts, whereas, in our older one, there is no +such expressed division, but a word at the commencement of each part +is printed in capital letters.]<br> +<br> +<br> +PART I.<br> +<br> +A seaman of Dover, whose excellent parts,<br> +For wisdom and learning, had conquered the hearts<br> +Of many young damsels, of beauty so bright,<br> +Of him this new ditty in brief I shall write;<br> +<br> +And show of his turnings, and windings of fate,<br> +His passions and sorrows, so many and great:<br> +And how he was blessèd with true love at last,<br> +When all the rough storms of his troubles were past.<br> +<br> +Now, to be brief, I shall tell you the truth:<br> +A beautiful lady, whose name it was Ruth,<br> +A squire’s young daughter, near Sandwich, in Kent,<br> +Proves all his heart’s treasure, his joy and content.<br> +<br> +Unknown to their parents in private they meet,<br> +Where many love lessons they’d often repeat,<br> +With kisses, and many embraces likewise,<br> +She granted him love, and thus gainèd the prize.<br> +<br> +She said, ‘I consent to be thy sweet bride,<br> +Whatever becomes of my fortune,’ she cried.<br> +‘The frowns of my father I never will fear,<br> +But freely will go through the world with my dear.’<br> +<br> +A jewel he gave her, in token of love,<br> +And vowed, by the sacred powers above,<br> +To wed the next morning; but they were betrayed,<br> +And all by the means of a treacherous maid.<br> +<br> +She told her parents that they were agreed:<br> +With that they fell into a passion with speed,<br> +And said, ere a seaman their daughter should have,<br> +They rather would follow her corpse to the grave.<br> +<br> +The lady was straight to her chamber confined,<br> +Here long she continued in sorrow of mind,<br> +And so did her love, for the loss of his dear, -<br> +No sorrow was ever so sharp and severe.<br> +<br> +When long he had mourned for his love and delight,<br> +Close under the window he came in the night,<br> +And sung forth this ditty:- ‘My dearest, farewell!<br> +Behold, in this nation no longer I dwell.<br> +<br> +‘I am going from hence to the kingdom of Spain,<br> +Because I am willing that you should obtain<br> +Your freedom once more; for my heart it will break<br> +If longer thou liest confined for my sake.’<br> +<br> +The words which he uttered, they caused her to weep;<br> +Yet, nevertheless, she was forcèd to keep<br> +Deep silence that minute, that minute for fear<br> +Her honourèd father and mother should hear.<br> +<br> +PART II.<br> +<br> +Soon after, bold Henry he entered on board,<br> +The heavens a prosperous gale did afford,<br> +And brought him with speed to the kingdom of Spain,<br> +There he with a merchant some time did remain;<br> +<br> +Who, finding that he was both faithful and just,<br> +Preferred him to places of honour and trust;<br> +He made him as great as his heart could request,<br> +Yet, wanting his Ruth, he with grief was oppressed.<br> +<br> +So great was his grief it could not be concealed,<br> +Both honour and riches no pleasure could yield;<br> +In private he often would weep and lament,<br> +For Ruth, the fair, beautiful lady of Kent.<br> +<br> +Now, while he lamented the loss of his dear,<br> +A lady of Spain did before him appear,<br> +Bedecked with rich jewels both costly and gay,<br> +Who earnestly sought for his favour that day.<br> +<br> +Said she, ‘Gentle swain, I am wounded with love,<br> +And you are the person I honour above<br> +The greatest of nobles that ever was born; -<br> +Then pity my tears, and my sorrowful mourn!’<br> +<br> +‘I pity thy sorrowful tears,’ he replied,<br> +‘And wish I were worthy to make thee my bride;<br> +But, lady, thy grandeur is greater than mine,<br> +Therefore, I am fearful my heart to resign.’<br> +<br> +‘O! never be doubtful of what will ensue,<br> +No manner of danger will happen to you;<br> +At my own disposal I am, I declare,<br> +Receive me with love, or destroy me with care.’<br> +<br> +‘Dear madam, don’t fix your affection on me,<br> +You are fit for some lord of a noble degree,<br> +That is able to keep up your honour and fame;<br> +I am but a poor sailor, from England who came.<br> +<br> +‘A man of mean fortune, whose substance is small,<br> +I have not wherewith to maintain you withal,<br> +Sweet lady, according to honour and state;<br> +Now this is the truth, which I freely relate.’<br> +<br> +The lady she lovingly squeezèd his hand,<br> +And said with a smile, ‘Ever blessed be the land<br> +That bred such a noble, brave seaman as thee;<br> +I value no honours, thou’rt welcome to me;<br> +<br> +‘My parents are dead, I have jewels untold,<br> +Besides in possession a million of gold;<br> +And thou shalt be lord of whatever I have,<br> +Grant me but thy love, which I earnestly crave.’<br> +<br> +Then, turning aside, to himself he replied,<br> +‘I am courted with riches and beauty beside;<br> +This love I may have, but my Ruth is denied.’<br> +Wherefore he consented to make her his bride.<br> +<br> +The lady she clothèd him costly and great;<br> +His noble deportment, both proper and straight,<br> +So charmèd the innocent eye of his dove,<br> +And added a second new flame to her love.<br> +<br> +Then married they were without longer delay;<br> +Now here we will leave them both glorious and gay,<br> +To speak of fair Ruth, who in sorrow was left<br> +At home with her parents, of comfort bereft.<br> +<br> +PART III.<br> +<br> +When under the window with an aching heart,<br> +He told his fair Ruth he so soon must depart,<br> +Her parents they heard, and well pleasèd they were,<br> +But Ruth was afflicted with sorrow and care.<br> +<br> +Now, after her lover had quitted the shore,<br> +They kept her confined a fall twelvemonth or more,<br> +And then they were pleasèd to set her at large,<br> +With laying upon her a wonderful charge:<br> +<br> +To fly from a seaman as she would from death;<br> +She promised she would, with a faltering breath;<br> +Yet, nevertheless, the truth you shall hear,<br> +She found out a way for to follow her dear.<br> +<br> +Then, taking her gold and her silver alsò,<br> +In seaman’s apparel away she did go,<br> +And found out a master, with whom she agreed,<br> +To carry her over the ocean with speed.<br> +<br> +Now, when she arrived at the kingdom of Spain,<br> +From city to city she travelled amain,<br> +Enquiring about everywhere for her love,<br> +Who now had been gone seven years and above.<br> +<br> +In Cadiz, as she walked along in the street,<br> +Her love and his lady she happened to meet,<br> +But in such a garb as she never had seen, -<br> +She looked like an angel, or beautiful queen.<br> +<br> +With sorrowful tears she turned her aside:<br> +‘My jewel is gone, I shall ne’er be his bride;<br> +But, nevertheless, though my hopes are in vain,<br> +I’ll never return to old England again.<br> +<br> +‘But here, in this place, I will now be confined;<br> +It will be a comfort and joy to my mind,<br> +To see him sometimes, though he thinks not of me,<br> +Since he has a lady of noble degree.’<br> +<br> +Now, while in the city fair Ruth did reside,<br> +Of a sudden this beautiful lady she died,<br> +And, though he was in the possession of all,<br> +Yet tears from his eyes in abundance did fall.<br> +<br> +As he was expressing his piteous moan,<br> +Fair Ruth came unto him, and made herself known;<br> +He started to see her, but seemèd not coy,<br> +Said he, ‘Now my sorrows are mingled with joy!’<br> +<br> +The time of the mourning he kept it in Spain,<br> +And then he came back to old England again,<br> +With thousands, and thousands, which he did possess;<br> +Then glorious and gay was sweet Ruth in her dress.<br> +<br> +PART IV.<br> +<br> +When over the seas to fair Sandwich he came,<br> +With Ruth, and a number of persons of fame,<br> +Then all did appear most splendid and gay,<br> +As if it had been a great festival day.<br> +<br> +Now, when that they took up their lodgings, behold!<br> +He stripped off his coat of embroiderèd gold,<br> +And presently borrows a mariner’s suit,<br> +That he with her parents might have some dispute,<br> +<br> +Before they were sensible he was so great;<br> +And when he came in and knocked at the gate,<br> +He soon saw her father, and mother likewise,<br> +Expressing their sorrow with tears in their eyes,<br> +<br> +To them, with obeisance, he modestly said,<br> +‘Pray where is my jewel, that innocent maid,<br> +Whose sweet lovely beauty doth thousands excel?<br> +I fear, by your weeping, that all is not well!’<br> +<br> +‘No, no! she is gone, she is utterly lost;<br> +We have not heard of her a twelvemonth at most!<br> +Which makes us distracted with sorrow and care,<br> +And drowns us in tears at the point of despair.’<br> +<br> +‘I’m grievèd to hear these sad tidings,’ he +cried.<br> +‘Alas! honest young man,’ her father replied,<br> +‘I heartily wish she’d been wedded to you,<br> +For then we this sorrow had never gone through.’<br> +<br> +Sweet Henry he made them this answer again;<br> +‘I am newly come home from the kingdom of Spain,<br> +From whence I have brought me a beautiful bride,<br> +And am to be married to-morrow,’ he cried;<br> +<br> +‘And if you will go to my wedding,’ said he,<br> +‘Both you and your lady right welcome shall be.’<br> +They promised they would, and accordingly came,<br> +Not thinking to meet with such persons of fame.<br> +<br> +All decked with their jewels of rubies and pearls,<br> +As equal companions of lords and of earls,<br> +Fair Ruth, with her love, was as gay as the rest,<br> +So they in their marriage were happily blessed.<br> +<br> +Now, as they returned from the church to an inn,<br> +The father and mother of Ruth did begin<br> +Their daughter to know, by a mole they behold,<br> +Although she was clothed in a garment of gold.<br> +<br> +With transports of joy they flew to the bride,<br> +‘O! where hast thou been, sweetest daughter?’ they cried,<br> +‘Thy tedious absence has grievèd us sore,<br> +As fearing, alas! we should see thee no more.’<br> +<br> +‘Dear parents,’ said she, ‘many hazards I run,<br> +To fetch home my love, and your dutiful son;<br> +Receive him with joy, for ’tis very well known,<br> +He seeks not your wealth, he’s enough of his own.’<br> +<br> +Her father replied, and he merrily smiled,<br> +‘He’s brought home enough, as he’s brought home my +child;<br> +A thousand times welcome you are, I declare,<br> +Whose presence disperses both sorrow and care.’<br> +<br> +Full seven long days in feasting they spent;<br> +The bells in the steeple they merrily went,<br> +And many fair pounds were bestowed on the poor, -<br> +The like of this wedding was never before!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE BERKSHIRE LADY’S GARLAND.<br> +IN FOUR PARTS.<br> +To the tune of <i>The Royal Forester.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +</i>[When we first met with this very pleasing English ballad, we deemed +the story to be wholly fictitious, but ‘strange’ as the +‘relation’ may appear, the incidents narrated are ‘true’ +or at least founded on fact. The scene of the ballad is Whitley +Park, near Reading, in Berkshire, and not, as some suppose, Calcot House, +which was not built till 1759. Whitley is mentioned as ‘the +Abbot’s Park, being at the entrance of Redding town.’ +At the Dissolution the estate passed to the crown, and the mansion seems, +from time to time, to have been used as a royal ‘palace’ +till the reign of Elizabeth, by whom it was granted, along with the +estate, to Sir Francis Knollys; it was afterwards, by purchase, the +property of the Kendricks, an ancient race, descended from the Saxon +kings. William Kendrick, of Whitley, armr. was created a baronet +in 1679, and died in 1685, leaving issue one son, Sir William Kendrick, +of Whitley, Bart., who married Miss Mary House, of Reading, and died +in 1699, without issue male, leaving an only daughter. It was +this rich heiress, who possessed ‘store of wealth and beauty bright,’ +that is the heroine of the ballad. She married Benjamin Child, +Esq., a young and handsome, but very poor attorney of Reading, and the +marriage is traditionally reported to have been brought about exactly +as related in the ballad. We have not been able to ascertain the +exact date of the marriage, which was celebrated in St. Mary’s +Church, Reading, the bride wearing a thick veil; but the ceremony must +have taken place some time about 1705. In 1714, Mr. Child was +high sheriff of Berkshire. As he was an humble and obscure personage +previously to his espousing the heiress of Whitley, and, in fact, owed +all his wealth and influence to his marriage, it cannot be supposed +that <i>immediately</i> after his union he would be elevated to so important +and dignified a post as the high-shrievalty of the very aristocratical +county of Berks. We may, therefore, consider nine or ten years +to have elapsed betwixt his marriage and his holding the office of high +sheriff, which he filled when he was about thirty-two years of age. +The author of the ballad is unknown: supposing him to have composed +it shortly after the events which he records, we cannot be far wrong +in fixing its date about 1706. The earliest broadside we have +seen contains a rudely executed, but by no means bad likeness of Queen +Anne, the reigning monarch at that period.]<br> +<br> +<br> +PART I.<br> +<br> +SHOWING CUPID’S CONQUEST OVER A COY LADY OF FIVE THOUSAND A YEAR.<br> +<br> +Bachelors of every station,<br> +Mark this strange and true relation,<br> +Which in brief to you I bring, -<br> +Never was a stranger thing!<br> +<br> +You shall find it worth the hearing;<br> +Loyal love is most endearing,<br> +When it takes the deepest root,<br> +Yielding charms and gold to boot.<br> +<br> +Some will wed for love of treasure;<br> +But the sweetest joy and pleasure<br> +Is in faithful love, you’ll find,<br> +Gracèd with a noble mind.<br> +<br> +Such a noble disposition<br> +Had this lady, with submission,<br> +Of whom I this sonnet write,<br> +Store of wealth, and beauty bright.<br> +<br> +She had left, by a good grannum,<br> +Full five thousand pounds per annum,<br> +Which she held without control;<br> +Thus she did in riches roll.<br> +<br> +Though she had vast store of riches,<br> +Which some persons much bewitches,<br> +Yet she bore a virtuous mind,<br> +Not the least to pride inclined.<br> +<br> +Many noble persons courted<br> +This young lady, ’tis reported;<br> +But their labour proved in vain,<br> +They could not her favour gain.<br> +<br> +Though she made a strong resistance,<br> +Yet by Cupid’s true assistance,<br> +She was conquered after all;<br> +How it was declare I shall.<br> +<br> +Being at a noble wedding,<br> +Near the famous town of Redding, <a name="citation7"></a><a href="#footnote7">{7}</a><br> +A young gentleman she saw,<br> +Who belongèd to the law.<br> +<br> +As she viewed his sweet behaviour,<br> +Every courteous carriage gave her<br> +New addition to her grief;<br> +Forced she was to seek relief.<br> +<br> +Privately she then enquired<br> +About him, so much admired;<br> +Both his name, and where he dwelt, -<br> +Such was the hot flame she felt.<br> +<br> +Then, at night, this youthful lady<br> +Called her coach, which being ready,<br> +Homewards straight she did return;<br> +But her heart with flames did burn.<br> +<br> +PART II.<br> +<br> +SHOWING THE LADY’S LETTER OF A CHALLENGE TO FIGHT HIM UPON HIS +REFUSING TO WED HER IN A MASK, WITHOUT KNOWING WHO SHE WAS.<br> +<br> +Night and morning, for a season,<br> +In her closet would she reason<br> +With herself, and often said,<br> +‘Why has love my heart betrayed?<br> +<br> +‘I, that have so many slighted,<br> +Am at length so well requited;<br> +For my griefs are not a few!<br> +Now I find what love can do.<br> +<br> +‘He that has my heart in keeping,<br> +Though I for his sake be weeping,<br> +Little knows what grief I feel;<br> +But I’ll try it out with steel.<br> +<br> +‘For I will a challenge send him,<br> +And appoint where I’ll attend him,<br> +In a grove, without delay,<br> +By the dawning of the day.<br> +<br> +‘He shall not the least discover<br> +That I am a virgin lover,<br> +By the challenge which I send;<br> +But for justice I contend.<br> +<br> +‘He has causèd sad distraction,<br> +And I come for satisfaction,<br> +Which if he denies to give,<br> +One of us shall cease to live.’<br> +<br> +Having thus her mind revealed,<br> +She her letter closed and sealed;<br> +Which, when it came to his hand,<br> +The young man was at a stand.<br> +<br> +In her letter she conjured him<br> +For to meet, and well assured him,<br> +Recompence he must afford,<br> +Or dispute it with the sword.<br> +<br> +Having read this strange relation,<br> +He was in a consternation;<br> +But, advising with his friend,<br> +He persuades him to attend.<br> +<br> +‘Be of courage, and make ready,<br> +Faint heart never won fair lady;<br> +In regard it must be so,<br> +I along with you must go.’<br> +<br> +PART III.<br> +<br> +SHOWING HOW THEY MET BY APPOINTMENT IN A GROVE, WHERE SHE OBLIGED HIM +TO FIGHT OR WED HER.<br> +<br> +Early on a summer’s morning,<br> +When bright Phoebus was adorning<br> +Every bower with his beams,<br> +The fair lady came, it seems.<br> +<br> +At the bottom of a mountain,<br> +Near a pleasant crystal fountain,<br> +There she left her gilded coach,<br> +While the grove she did approach.<br> +<br> +Covered with her mask, and walking,<br> +There she met her lover talking<br> +With a friend that he had brought;<br> +So she asked him whom he sought.<br> +<br> +‘I am challenged by a gallant,<br> +Who resolves to try my talent;<br> +Who he is I cannot say,<br> +But I hope to show him play.’<br> +<br> +‘It is I that did invite you,<br> +You shall wed me, or I’ll fight you,<br> +Underneath those spreading trees;<br> +Therefore, choose you which you please.<br> +<br> +‘You shall find I do not vapour,<br> +I have brought my trusty rapier;<br> +Therefore, take your choice,’ said she,<br> +‘Either fight or marry me.’<br> +<br> +Said he, ‘Madam, pray what mean you?<br> +In my life I’ve never seen you;<br> +Pray unmask, your visage show,<br> +Then I’ll tell you aye or no.’<br> +<br> +‘I will not my face uncover<br> +Till the marriage ties are over;<br> +Therefore, choose you which you will,<br> +Wed me, sir, or try your skill.<br> +<br> +‘Step within that pleasant bower,<br> +With your friend one single hour;<br> +Strive your thoughts to reconcile,<br> +And I’ll wander here the while.’<br> +<br> +While this beauteous lady waited,<br> +The young bachelors debated<br> +What was best for to be done:<br> +Quoth his friend, ‘The hazard run.<br> +<br> +‘If my judgment can be trusted,<br> +Wed her first, you can’t be worsted;<br> +If she’s rich, you’ll rise to fame,<br> +If she’s poor, why! you’re the same.’<br> +<br> +He consented to be married;<br> +All three in a coach were carried<br> +To a church without delay,<br> +Where he weds the lady gay.<br> +<br> +Though sweet pretty Cupids hovered<br> +Round her eyes, her face was covered<br> +With a mask, - he took her thus,<br> +Just for better or for worse.<br> +<br> +With a courteous kind behaviour,<br> +She presents his friend a favour,<br> +And withal dismissed him straight,<br> +That he might no longer wait.<br> +<br> +PART IV.<br> +<br> +SHOWING HOW THEY RODE TOGETHER IN HER GILDED COACH TO HER NOBLE SEAT, +OR CASTLE, ETC.<br> +<br> +As the gilded coach stood ready,<br> +The young lawyer and his lady<br> +Rode together, till they came<br> +To her house of state and fame;<br> +<br> +Which appearèd like a castle,<br> +Where you might behold a parcel<br> +Of young cedars, tall and straight,<br> +Just before her palace gate.<br> +<br> +Hand in hand they walked together,<br> +To a hall, or parlour, rather,<br> +Which was beautiful and fair, -<br> +All alone she left him there.<br> +<br> +Two long hours there he waited<br> +Her return; - at length he fretted,<br> +And began to grieve at last,<br> +For he had not broke his fast.<br> +<br> +Still he sat like one amazed,<br> +Round a spacious room he gazed,<br> +Which was richly beautified;<br> +But, alas! he lost his bride.<br> +<br> +There was peeping, laughing, sneering,<br> +All within the lawyer’s hearing;<br> +But his bride he could not see;<br> +‘Would I were at home!’ thought he.<br> +<br> +While his heart was melancholy,<br> +Said the steward, brisk and jolly,<br> +‘Tell me, friend, how came you here?<br> +You’ve some bad design, I fear.’<br> +<br> +He replied, ‘Dear loving master,<br> +You shall meet with no disaster<br> +Through my means, in any case, -<br> +Madam brought me to this place.’<br> +<br> +Then the steward did retire,<br> +Saying, that he would enquire<br> +Whether it was true or no:<br> +Ne’er was lover hampered so.<br> +<br> +Now the lady who had filled him<br> +With those fears, full well beheld him<br> +From a window, as she dressed,<br> +Pleasèd at the merry jest.<br> +<br> +When she had herself attired<br> +In rich robes, to be admired,<br> +She appearèd in his sight,<br> +Like a moving angel bright.<br> +<br> +‘Sir! my servants have related,<br> +How some hours you have waited<br> +In my parlour, - tell me who<br> +In my house you ever knew?’<br> +<br> +‘Madam! if I have offended,<br> +It is more than I intended;<br> +A young lady brought me here:’ -<br> +‘That is true,’ said she, ‘my dear.<br> +<br> +‘I can be no longer cruel<br> +To my joy, and only jewel;<br> +Thou art mine, and I am thine,<br> +Hand and heart I do resign!<br> +<br> +‘Once I was a wounded lover,<br> +Now these fears are fairly over;<br> +By receiving what I gave,<br> +Thou art lord of what I have.’<br> +<br> +Beauty, honour, love, and treasure,<br> +A rich golden stream of pleasure,<br> +With his lady he enjoys;<br> +Thanks to Cupid’s kind decoys.<br> +<br> +Now he’s clothed in rich attire,<br> +Not inferior to a squire;<br> +Beauty, honour, riches’ store,<br> +What can man desire more?<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE NOBLEMAN’S GENEROUS KINDNESS.<br> +<br> +Giving an account of a nobleman, who, taking notice of a poor man’s +industrious care and pains for the maintaining of his charge of seven +small children, met him upon a day, and discoursing with him, invited +him, and his wife and his children, home to his house, and bestowed +upon them a farm of thirty acres of land, to be continued to him and +his heirs for ever.<br> +<br> +To the tune of <i>The</i> <i>Two English Travellers.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +</i>[This still popular ballad is entitled in the modern copies, <i>The +Nobleman and Thrasher; or, the Generous Gift</i>. There is a copy +preserved in the Roxburgh Collection, with which our version has been +collated. It is taken from a broadside printed by Robert Marchbank, +in the Custom-house Entry, Newcastle.]<br> +<br> +<br> +A nobleman lived in a village of late,<br> +Hard by a poor thrasher, whose charge it was great;<br> +For he had seven children, and most of them small,<br> +And nought but his labour to support them withal.<br> +<br> +He never was given to idle and lurk,<br> +For this nobleman saw him go daily to work,<br> +With his flail and his bag, and his bottle of beer,<br> +As cheerful as those that have hundreds a year.<br> +<br> +Thus careful, and constant, each morning he went,<br> +Unto his daily labour with joy and content;<br> +So jocular and jolly he’d whistle and sing,<br> +As blithe and as brisk as the birds in the spring.<br> +<br> +One morning, this nobleman taking a walk,<br> +He met this poor man, and he freely did talk;<br> +He asked him [at first] many questions at large,<br> +And then began talking concerning his charge.<br> +<br> +‘Thou hast many children, I very well know,<br> +Thy labour is hard, and thy wages are low,<br> +And yet thou art cheerful; I pray tell me true,<br> +How can you maintain them as well as you do?’<br> +<br> +‘I carefully carry home what I do earn,<br> +My daily expenses by this I do learn;<br> +And find it is possible, though we be poor,<br> +To still keep the ravenous wolf from the door.<br> +<br> +‘I reap and I mow, and I harrow and sow,<br> +Sometimes a hedging and ditching I go;<br> +No work comes amiss, for I thrash, and I plough,<br> +Thus my bread I do earn by the sweat of my brow.<br> +<br> +‘My wife she is willing to pull in a yoke,<br> +We live like two lambs, nor each other provoke;<br> +We both of us strive, like the labouring ant,<br> +And do our endeavours to keep us from want.<br> +<br> +‘And when I come home from my labour at night,<br> +To my wife and my children, in whom I delight;<br> +To see them come round me with prattling noise, -<br> +Now these are the riches a poor man enjoys.<br> +<br> +‘Though I am as weary as weary may be,<br> +The youngest I commonly dance on my knee;<br> +I find that content is a moderate feast,<br> +I never repine at my lot in the least.’<br> +<br> +Now the nobleman hearing what he did say,<br> +Was pleased, and invited him home the next day;<br> +His wife and his children he charged him to bring;<br> +In token of favour he gave him a ring.<br> +<br> +He thankèd his honour, and taking his leave,<br> +He went to his wife, who would hardly believe<br> +But this same story himself he might raise;<br> +Yet seeing the ring she was [lost] in amaze.<br> +<br> +Betimes in the morning the good wife she arose,<br> +And made them all fine, in the best of their clothes;<br> +The good man with his good wife, and children small,<br> +They all went to dine at the nobleman’s hall.<br> +<br> +But when they came there, as truth does report,<br> +All things were prepared in a plentiful sort;<br> +And they at the nobleman’s table did dine,<br> +With all kinds of dainties, and plenty of wine.<br> +<br> +The feast being over, he soon let them know,<br> +That he then intended on them to bestow<br> +A farm-house, with thirty good acres of land;<br> +And gave them the writings then, with his own hand.<br> +<br> +‘Because thou art careful, and good to thy wife,<br> +I’ll make thy days happy the rest of thy life;<br> +It shall be for ever, for thee and thy heirs,<br> +Because I beheld thy industrious cares.’<br> +<br> +No tongue then is able in full to express<br> +The depth of their joy, and true thankfulness;<br> +With many a curtsey, and bow to the ground, -<br> +Such noblemen there are but few to be found.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE DRUNKARD’S LEGACY. IN THREE PARTS.<br> +<br> +First, giving an account of a gentlemen a having a wild son, and who, +foreseeing he would come to poverty, had a cottage built with one door +to it, always kept fast; and how, on his dying bed, he charged him not +to open it till he was poor and slighted, which the young man promised +he would perform. Secondly, of the young man’s pawning his +estate to a vintner, who, when poor, kicked him out of doors; when thinking +it time to see his legacy, he broke open the cottage door, where instead +of money he found a gibbet and halter, which he put round his neck, +and jumping off the stool, the gibbet broke, and a thousand pounds came +down upon his head, which lay hid in the ceiling. Thirdly, of +his redeeming his estate, and fooling the vintner out of two hundred +pounds; who, for being jeered by his neighbours, cut his own throat. +And lastly, of the young man’s reformation. Very proper +to be read by all who are given to drunkenness.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[Percy, in the introductory remarks to the ballad of <i>The Heir</i> +<i>of Linne</i>, says, ‘the original of this ballad [<i>The Heir +of Linne</i>] is found in the editor’s folio MS.; the breaches +and defects of which rendered the insertion of supplemental stanzas +necessary. These it is hoped the reader will pardon, as, indeed, +the completion of the story was suggested by a modern ballad on a similar +subject.’ The ballad thus alluded to by Percy is <i>The +Drunkard’s</i> <i>Legacy</i>, which, it may be remarked, although +styled by him a <i>modern</i> ballad, is only so comparatively speaking; +for it must have been written long anterior to Percy’s time, and, +by his own admission, must be older than the latter portion of the <i>Heir +of Linne</i>. Our copy is taken from an old chap-book, without +date or printer’s name, and which is decorated with three rudely +executed wood-cuts.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Young people all, I pray draw near,<br> +And listen to my ditty here;<br> +Which subject shows that drunkenness<br> +Brings many mortals to distress!<br> +<br> +As, for example, now I can<br> +Tell you of one, a gentleman,<br> +Who had a very good estate,<br> +His earthly travails they were great.<br> +<br> +We understand he had one son<br> +Who a lewd wicked race did run;<br> +He daily spent his father’s store,<br> +When moneyless, he came for more.<br> +<br> +The father oftentimes with tears,<br> +Would this alarm sound in his ears;<br> +‘Son! thou dost all my comfort blast,<br> +And thou wilt come to want at last.’<br> +<br> +The son these words did little mind,<br> +To cards and dice he was inclined;<br> +Feeding his drunken appetite<br> +In taverns, which was his delight.<br> +<br> +The father, ere it was too late,<br> +He had a project in his pate,<br> +Before his agèd days were run,<br> +To make provision for his son.<br> +<br> +Near to his house, we understand,<br> +He had a waste plat of land,<br> +Which did but little profit yield,<br> +On which he did a cottage build.<br> +<br> +The <i>Wise Man’s Project</i> was its name;<br> +There were few windows in the same;<br> +Only one door, substantial thing,<br> +Shut by a lock, went by a spring.<br> +<br> +Soon after he had played this trick,<br> +It was his lot for to fall sick;<br> +As on his bed he did lament,<br> +Then for his drunken son he sent.<br> +<br> +He shortly came to his bedside;<br> +Seeing his son, he thus replied:<br> +‘I have sent for you to make my will,<br> +Which you must faithfully fulfil.<br> +<br> +‘In such a cottage is one door,<br> +Ne’er open it, do thou be sure,<br> +Until thou art so poor, that all<br> +Do then despise you, great and small.<br> +<br> +‘For, to my grief, I do perceive,<br> +When I am dead, this life you live<br> +Will soon melt all thou hast away;<br> +Do not forget these words, I pray.<br> +<br> +‘When thou hast made thy friends thy foes,<br> +Pawned all thy lands, and sold thy clothes;<br> +Break ope the door, and there depend<br> +To find something thy griefs to end.’<br> +<br> +This being spoke, the son did say,<br> +‘Your dying words I will obey.’<br> +Soon after this his father dear<br> +Did die, and buried was, we hear.<br> +<br> +PART II.<br> +<br> +Now, pray observe the second part,<br> +And you shall hear his sottish heart;<br> +He did the tavern so frequent,<br> +Till he three hundred pounds had spent.<br> +<br> +This being done, we understand<br> +He pawned the deeds of all his land<br> +Unto a tavern-keeper, who,<br> +When poor, did him no favour show.<br> +<br> +For, to fulfil his father’s will,<br> +He did command this cottage still:<br> +At length great sorrow was his share,<br> +Quite moneyless, with garments bare.<br> +<br> +Being not able for to work,<br> +He in the tavern there did lurk;<br> +From box to box, among rich men,<br> +Who oftentimes reviled him then.<br> +<br> +To see him sneak so up and down,<br> +The vintner on him he did frown;<br> +And one night kicked him out of door,<br> +Charging him to come there no more.<br> +<br> +He in a stall did lie all night,<br> +In this most sad and wretched plight;<br> +Then thought it was high time to see<br> +His father’s promised legacy.<br> +<br> +Next morning, then, oppressed with woe,<br> +This young man got an iron crow;<br> +And, as in tears he did lament,<br> +Unto this little cottage went.<br> +<br> +When he the door had open got,<br> +This poor, distressèd, drunken sot,<br> +Who did for store of money hope,<br> +He saw a gibbet and a rope.<br> +<br> +Under this rope was placed a stool,<br> +Which made him look just like a fool;<br> +Crying, ‘Alas! what shall I do?<br> +Destruction now appears in view!<br> +<br> +‘As my father foresaw this thing,<br> +What sottishness to me would bring;<br> +As moneyless, and free of grace,<br> +His legacy I will embrace.’<br> +<br> +So then, oppressed with discontent,<br> +Upon the stool he sighing went;<br> +And then, his precious life to check,<br> +Did place the rope about his neck.<br> +<br> +Crying, ‘Thou, God, who sitt’st on high,<br> +And on my sorrow casts an eye;<br> +Thou knowest that I’ve not done well, -<br> +Preserve my precious soul from hell.<br> +<br> +‘’Tis true the slighting of thy grace,<br> +Has brought me to this wretched case;<br> +And as through folly I’m undone,<br> +I’ll now eclipse my morning sun.’<br> +<br> +When he with sighs these words had spoke,<br> +Jumped off, and down the gibbet broke;<br> +In falling, as it plain appears,<br> +Dropped down about this young man’s ears,<br> +<br> +In shining gold, a thousand pound!<br> +Which made the blood his ears surround:<br> +Though in amaze, he cried, ‘I’m sure<br> +This golden salve the sore will cure!<br> +<br> +‘Blessed be my father, then,’ he cried,<br> +‘Who did this part for me so hide;<br> +And while I do alive remain,<br> +I never will get drunk again.’<br> +<br> +PART III.<br> +<br> +Now, by the third part you will hear,<br> +This young man, as it doth appear,<br> +With care he then secured his chink,<br> +And to the vintner’s went to drink.<br> +<br> +When the proud vintner did him see,<br> +He frowned on him immediately,<br> +And said, ‘Begone! or else with speed,<br> +I’ll kick thee out of doors, indeed.’<br> +<br> +Smiling, the young man he did say,<br> +‘Thou cruel knave! tell me, I pray,<br> +As I have here consumed my store,<br> +How durst thee kick me out of door?<br> +<br> +‘To me thou hast been too severe;<br> +The deeds of eightscore pounds a-year,<br> +I pawned them for three hundred pounds,<br> +That I spent here; - what makes such frowns?’<br> +<br> +The vintner said unto him, ‘Sirrah!<br> +Bring me one hundred pounds to-morrow<br> +By nine o’clock, - take them again;<br> +So get you out of doors till then.’<br> +<br> +He answered, ‘If this chink I bring,<br> +I fear thou wilt do no such thing.<br> +He said, ‘I’ll give under my hand,<br> +A note, that I to this will stand.’<br> +<br> +Having the note, away he goes,<br> +And straightway went to one of those<br> +That made him drink when moneyless,<br> +And did the truth to him confess.<br> +<br> +They both went to this heap of gold,<br> +And in a bag he fairly told<br> +A thousand pounds, ill yellow-boys,<br> +And to the tavern went their ways.<br> +<br> +This bag they on the table set,<br> +Making the vintner for to fret;<br> +He said, ‘Young man! this will not do,<br> +For I was but in jest with you.’<br> +<br> +So then bespoke the young man’s friend:<br> +‘Vintner! thou mayest sure depend,<br> +In law this note it will you cast,<br> +And he must have his land at last.’<br> +<br> +This made the vintner to comply, -<br> +He fetched the deeds immediately;<br> +He had one hundred pounds, and then<br> +The young man got his deeds again.<br> +<br> +At length the vintner ’gan to think<br> +How he was fooled out of his chink;<br> +Said, ‘When ’tis found how I came off,<br> +My neighbours will me game and scoff.’<br> +<br> +So to prevent their noise and clatter<br> +The vintner he, to mend the matter,<br> +In two days after, it doth appear,<br> +Did cut his throat from ear to ear.<br> +<br> +Thus he untimely left the world,<br> +That to this young man proved a churl.<br> +Now he who followed drunkenness,<br> +Lives sober, and doth lands possess.<br> +<br> +Instead of wasting of his store,<br> +As formerly, resolves no more<br> +To act the same, but does indeed<br> +Relieve all those that are in need.<br> +<br> +Let all young men now, for my sake,<br> +Take care how they such havoc make;<br> +For drunkenness, you plain may see,<br> +Had like his ruin for to be.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE BOWES TRAGEDY.<br> +<br> +Being a true relation of the Lives and Characters of ROGER WRIGHTSON +and MARTHA RAILTON, of the Town of Bowes, in the County of York, who +died for love of each other, in March, 1714/5<br> +<br> +Tune of <i>Queen Dido.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +</i>[<i>The Bowes Tragedy</i> is the original of Mallet’s <i>Edition +and</i> <i>Emma</i>. In these verses are preserved the village +record of the incident which suggested that poem. When Mallet +published his ballad he subjoined an attestation of the facts, which +may be found in Evans’ <i>Old Ballads</i>, vol. ii. p. 237. +Edit. 1784. Mallet alludes to the statement in the parish registry +of Bowes, that ‘they both died of love, and were buried in the +same grave,’ &c. The following is an exact copy of the +entry, as transcribed by Mr. Denham, 17th April, 1847. The words +which we have printed in brackets are found interlined in another and +a later hand by some person who had inspected the register:-<br> +<br> +‘Ro<i>d</i>ger Wrightson, Jun., and Martha Railton, both of Bowes, +Buried in one grave: He <i>D</i>ied in a Fever, and upon tolling his +passing Bell, she cry’d out My heart is broke, and in a <i>F</i>ew +hours expir’d, purely [<i>or supposed</i>] thro’ Love, March +15, 1714/5, aged about 20 years each.’<br> +<br> +Mr. Denham says:-<br> +<br> +‘<i>The Bowes Tragedy</i> was, I understand, written immediately +after the death of the lovers, by the then master of Bowes Grammar School. +His name I never heard. My father, who died a few years ago (aged +nearly 80), knew a younger sister of Martha Railton’s, who used +to sing it to strangers passing through Bowes. She was a poor +woman, advanced in years, and it brought her in many a piece of money.’]<br> +<br> +<br> +Let Carthage Queen be now no more<br> +The subject of our mournful song;<br> +Nor such old tales which, heretofore,<br> +Did so amuse the teeming throng;<br> +Since the sad story which I’ll tell,<br> +All other tragedies excel.<br> +<br> +Remote in Yorkshire, near to Bowes,<br> +Of late did Roger Wrightson dwell;<br> +He courted Martha Railton, whose<br> +Repute for virtue did excel;<br> +Yet Roger’s friends would not agree,<br> +That he to her should married be.<br> +<br> +Their love continued one whole year,<br> +Full sore against their parents’ will;<br> +And when he found them so severe,<br> +His loyal heart began to chill:<br> +And last Shrove Tuesday, took his bed,<br> +With grief and woe encompassèd.<br> +<br> +Thus he continued twelve days’ space,<br> +In anguish and in grief of mind;<br> +And no sweet peace in any case,<br> +This ardent lover’s heart could find;<br> +But languished in a train of grief,<br> +Which pierced his heart beyond relief.<br> +<br> +Now anxious Martha sore distressed,<br> +A private message did him send,<br> +Lamenting that she could not rest,<br> +Till she had seen her loving friend:<br> +His answer was, ‘Nay, nay, my dear,<br> +Our folks will angry be I fear.’<br> +<br> +Full fraught with grief, she took no rest,<br> +But spent her time in pain and fear,<br> +Till a few days before his death<br> +She sent an orange to her dear;<br> +But’s cruel mother in disdain,<br> +Did send the orange back again.<br> +<br> +Three days before her lover died,<br> +Poor Martha with a bleeding heart,<br> +To see her dying lover hied,<br> +In hopes to ease him of his smart;<br> +Where she’s conducted to the bed,<br> +In which this faithful young man laid.<br> +<br> +Where she with doleful cries beheld,<br> +Her fainting lover in despair;<br> +At which her heart with sorrow filled,<br> +Small was the comfort she had there;<br> +Though’s mother showed her great respect,<br> +His sister did her much reject.<br> +<br> +She stayed two hours with her dear,<br> +In hopes for to declare her mind;<br> +But Hannah Wrightson <a name="citation8"></a><a href="#footnote8">{8}</a> +stood so near,<br> +No time to do it she could find:<br> +So that being almost dead with grief,<br> +Away she went without relief.<br> +<br> +Tears from her eyes did flow amain,<br> +And she full oft would sighing say,<br> +‘My constant love, alas! is slain,<br> +And to pale death, become a prey:<br> +Oh, Hannah, Hannah thou art base;<br> +Thy pride will turn to foul disgrace!’<br> +<br> +She spent her time in godly prayers,<br> +And quiet rest did from her fly;<br> +She to her friends full oft declares,<br> +She could not live if he did die:<br> +Thus she continued till the bell,<br> +Began to sound his fatal knell.<br> +<br> +And when she heard the dismal sound,<br> +Her godly book she cast away,<br> +With bitter cries would pierce the ground.<br> +Her fainting heart ’gan to decay:<br> +She to her pensive mother said,<br> +‘I cannot live now he is dead.’<br> +<br> +Then after three short minutes’ space,<br> +As she in sorrow groaning lay,<br> +A gentleman <a name="citation9"></a><a href="#footnote9">{9}</a> did +her embrace,<br> +And mildly unto her did say,<br> +‘Dear melting soul be not so sad,<br> +But let your passion be allayed.’<br> +<br> +Her answer was, ‘My heart is burst,<br> +My span of life is near an end;<br> +My love from me by death is forced,<br> +My grief no soul can comprehend.’<br> +Then her poor heart it waxèd faint,<br> +When she had ended her complaint.<br> +<br> +For three hours’ space, as in a trance,<br> +This broken-hearted creature lay,<br> +Her mother wailing her mischance,<br> +To pacify her did essay:<br> +But all in vain, for strength being past,<br> +She seemingly did breathe her last.<br> +<br> +Her mother, thinking she was dead,<br> +Began to shriek and cry amain;<br> +And heavy lamentations made,<br> +Which called her spirit back again;<br> +To be an object of hard fate,<br> +And give to grief a longer date.<br> +<br> +Distorted with convulsions, she,<br> +In dreadful manner gasping lay,<br> +Of twelve long hours no moment free,<br> +Her bitter groans did her dismay:<br> +Then her poor heart being sadly broke,<br> +Submitted to the fatal stroke.<br> +<br> +When things were to this issue brought,<br> +Both in one grave were to be laid:<br> +But flinty-hearted Hannah thought,<br> +By stubborn means for to persuade,<br> +Their friends and neighbours from the same,<br> +For which she surely was to blame.<br> +<br> +And being asked the reason why,<br> +Such base objections she did make,<br> +She answerèd thus scornfully,<br> +In words not fit for Billingsgate:<br> +‘She might have taken fairer on -<br> +Or else be hanged:’ Oh heart of stone!<br> +<br> +What hell-born fury had possessed,<br> +Thy vile inhuman spirit thus?<br> +What swelling rage was in thy breast,<br> +That could occasion this disgust,<br> +And make thee show such spleen and rage,<br> +Which life can’t cure nor death assuage?<br> +<br> +Sure some of Satan’s minor imps,<br> +Ordainèd were to be thy guide;<br> +To act the part of sordid pimps,<br> +And fill thy heart with haughty pride;<br> +But take this caveat once for all,<br> +Such devilish pride must have a fall.<br> +<br> +But when to church the corpse was brought,<br> +And both of them met at the gate;<br> +What mournful tears by friends were shed,<br> +When that alas it was too late, -<br> +When they in silent grave were laid,<br> +Instead of pleasing marriage-bed.<br> +<br> +You parents all both far and near,<br> +By this sad story warning take;<br> +Nor to your children be severe,<br> +When they their choice in love do make;<br> +Let not the love of cursèd gold,<br> +True lovers from their love withhold.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE CRAFTY LOVER; OR, THE LAWYER OUTWITTED.<br> +<br> +Tune of <i>I love thee more and more</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This excellent old ballad is transcribed from a copy printed in Aldermary +church-yard. It still continues to be published in the old broadside +form.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Of a rich counsellor I write,<br> +Who had one only daughter,<br> +Who was of youthful beauty bright;<br> +Now mark what follows after. <a name="citation10"></a><a href="#footnote10">{10}</a><br> +Her uncle left her, I declare,<br> +A sumptuous large possession;<br> +Her father he was to take care<br> +Of her at his discretion.<br> +<br> +She had ten thousand pounds a-year,<br> +And gold and silver ready,<br> +And courted was by many a peer,<br> +Yet none could gain this lady.<br> +At length a squire’s youngest son<br> +In private came a-wooing,<br> +And when he had her favour won,<br> +He feared his utter ruin.<br> +<br> +The youthful lady straightway cried,<br> +‘I must confess I love thee,<br> +Though lords and knights I have denied,<br> +Yet none I prize above thee:<br> +Thou art a jewel in my eye,<br> +But here,’ said she, ‘the care is, -<br> +I fear you will be doomed to die<br> +For stealing of an heiress.’<br> +<br> +The young man he replied to her<br> +Like a true politician;<br> +‘Thy father is a counsellor,<br> +I’ll tell him my condition.<br> +Ten guineas they shall be his fee,<br> +He’ll think it is some stranger;<br> +Thus for the gold he’ll counsel me,<br> +And keep me safe from danger.’<br> +<br> +Unto her father he did go,<br> +The very next day after;<br> +But did not let the lawyer know<br> +The lady was his daughter.<br> +Now when the lawyer saw the gold<br> +That he should be she gainer,<br> +A pleasant trick to him he told<br> +With safety to obtain her.<br> +<br> +‘Let her provide a horse,’ he cried,<br> +‘And take you up behind her;<br> +Then with you to some parson ride<br> +Before her parents find her:<br> +That she steals you, you may complain,<br> +And so avoid their fury.<br> +Now this is law I will maintain<br> +Before or judge or jury.<br> +<br> +‘Now take my writing and my seal,<br> +Which I cannot deny thee,<br> +And if you any trouble feel,<br> +In court I will stand by thee.’<br> +‘I give you thanks,’ the young man cried,<br> +‘By you I am befriended,<br> +And to your house I’ll bring my bride<br> +After the work is ended.’<br> +<br> +Next morning, ere the day did break,<br> +This news to her he carried;<br> +She did her father’s counsel take<br> +And they were fairly married,<br> +And now they felt but ill at case,<br> +And, doubts and fears expressing,<br> +They home returned, and on their knees<br> +They asked their father’s blessing,<br> +<br> +But when he had beheld them both,<br> +He seemed like one distracted,<br> +And vowed to be revenged on oath<br> +For what they now had acted.<br> +With that bespoke his new-made son -<br> +‘There can be no deceiving,<br> +That this is law which we have done<br> +Here is your hand and sealing!’<br> +<br> +The counsellor did then reply,<br> +Was ever man so fitted;<br> +‘My hand and seal I can’t deny,<br> +By you I am outwitted.<br> +‘Ten thousand pounds a-year in store<br> +‘She was left by my brother,<br> +And when I die there will be more,<br> +For child I have no other.<br> +<br> +‘She might have had a lord or knight,<br> +From royal loins descended;<br> +But, since thou art her heart’s delight,<br> +I will not be offended;<br> +‘If I the gordian knot should part,<br> +‘Twere cruel out of measure;<br> +Enjoy thy love, with all my heart,<br> +In plenty, peace, and pleasure.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE DEATH OF QUEEN JANE. (TRADITIONAL.)<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[We have seen an old printed copy of this ballad, which was written +probably about the date of the event it records, 1537. Our version +was taken down from the singing of a young gipsy girl, to whom it had +descended orally through two generations. She could not recollect +the whole of it. In Miss Strickland’s <i>Lives of the Queens +of England</i>, we find the following passage: ‘An English ballad +is extant, which, dwelling on the elaborate mourning of Queen Jane’s +ladies, informs the world, in a line of pure bathos,<br> +<br> +In black were her ladies, and black were their faces.’<br> +<br> +Miss Strickland does not appear to have seen the ballad to which she +refers; and as we are not aware of the existence of any other ballad +on the subject, we presume that her line of ‘pure bathos’ +is merely a corruption of one of the ensuing verses.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Queen Jane was in travail<br> +For six weeks or more,<br> +Till the women grew tired,<br> +And fain would give o’er.<br> +‘O women! O women!<br> +Good wives if ye be,<br> +Go, send for King Henrie,<br> +And bring him to me.’<br> +<br> +King Henrie was sent for,<br> +He came with all speed,<br> +In a gownd of green velvet<br> +From heel to the head.<br> +‘King Henrie! King Henrie!<br> +If kind Henrie you be,<br> +Send for a surgeon,<br> +And bring him to me.’<br> +<br> +The surgeon was sent for,<br> +He came with all speed,<br> +In a gownd of black velvet<br> +From heel to the head.<br> +He gave her rich caudle,<br> +But the death-sleep slept she.<br> +Then her right side was opened,<br> +And the babe was set free.<br> +<br> +The babe it was christened,<br> +And put out and nursed,<br> +While the royal Queen Jane<br> +She lay cold in the dust.<br> +<br> +* * * * *<br> +<br> +So black was the mourning,<br> +And white were the wands,<br> +Yellow, yellow the torches,<br> +They bore in their hands.<br> +<br> +The bells they were muffled,<br> +And mournful did play,<br> +While the royal Queen Jane<br> +She lay cold in the clay.<br> +<br> +Six knights and six lords<br> +Bore her corpse through the grounds;<br> +Six dukes followed after,<br> +In black mourning gownds.<br> +<br> +The flower of Old England<br> +Was laid in cold clay,<br> +Whilst the royal King Henrie<br> +Came weeping away.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE WANDERING YOUNG GENTLEWOMAN; OR, CATSKIN.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The following version of this ancient English ballad has been collated +with three copies. In some editions it is called <i>Catskin’s</i> +<i>Garland; or, the Wandering Young Gentlewoman</i>. The story +has a close similarity to that of <i>Cinderella</i>, and is supposed +to be of oriental origin. Several versions of it are current in +Scandinavia, Germany, Italy, Poland, and Wales. For some account +of it see <i>Pictorial Book of Ballads</i>, ii. 153, edited by Mr. J. +S. Moore.]<br> +<br> +<br> +PART 1.<br> +<br> +You fathers and mothers, and children also,<br> +Draw near unto me, and soon you shall know<br> +The sense of my ditty, and I dare to say,<br> +The like’s not been heard of this many a day.<br> +<br> +The subject which to you I am to relate,<br> +It is of a young squire of vast estate;<br> +The first dear infant his wife did him bear,<br> +It was a young daughter of beauty most rare.<br> +<br> +He said to his wife, ‘Had this child been a boy,<br> +‘Twould have pleased me better, and increased my joy,<br> +If the next be the same sort, I declare,<br> +Of what I’m possessèd it shall have no share.’<br> +<br> +In twelve months’ time after, this woman, we hear,<br> +Had another daughter of beauty most clear;<br> +And when that he knew it was but a female,<br> +Into a bitter passion he presently fell,<br> +<br> +Saying, ‘Since this is of the same sort as the first,<br> +In my habitation she shall not be nursed;<br> +Pray let her be sent into the countrie,<br> +For where I am, truly, this child shall not be.’<br> +<br> +With tears his dear wife unto him did say,<br> +‘Husband, be contented, I’ll send her away.’<br> +Then to the countrie with speed her did send,<br> +For to be brought up by one was her friend.<br> +<br> +Although that her father he hated her so,<br> +He a good education on her did bestow;<br> +And with a gold locket, and robes of the best,<br> +This slighted young damsel was commonly dressed.<br> +<br> +And when unto stature this damsel was grown,<br> +And found from her father she had no love shown,<br> +She cried, ‘Before I will lay under his frown,<br> +I’m resolvèd to travel the country around.’<br> +<br> +PART II.<br> +<br> +But now mark, good people, the cream of the jest,<br> +In what sort of manner this creature was dressed;<br> +With cat-skins she made her a robe, I declare,<br> +The which for her covering she daily did wear.<br> +<br> +Her own rich attire, and jewels beside,<br> +Then up in a bundle by her they were tied,<br> +And to seek her fortune she wandered away;<br> +And when she had travelled a cold winter’s day,<br> +<br> +In the evening-tide she came to a town,<br> +Where at a knight’s door she sat herself down,<br> +For to rest herself, who was tirèd sore; -<br> +This noble knight’s lady then came to the door.<br> +<br> +This fair creature seeing in such sort of dress,<br> +The lady unto her these words did express:<br> +‘Whence camest thou, girl, and what wouldst thou have?’<br> +She said, ‘A night’s rest in your stable I crave.’<br> +<br> +The lady said to her, ‘I’ll grant thy desire,<br> +Come into the kitchen, and stand by the fire.’<br> +Then she thankèd the lady, and went in with haste;<br> +And there she was gazed on from highest to least.<br> +<br> +And, being well warmed, her hunger was great,<br> +They gave her a plate of good food for to eat,<br> +And then to an outhouse this creature was led,<br> +Where with fresh straw she soon made her a bed.<br> +<br> +And when in the morning the daylight she saw,<br> +Her riches and jewels she hid in the straw;<br> +And, being very cold, she then did retire<br> +Into the kitchen, and stood by the fire.<br> +<br> +The cook said, ‘My lady hath promised that thee<br> +Shall be as a scullion to wait upon me;<br> +What say’st thou girl, art thou willing to bide?’<br> +‘With all my heart truly,’ to him she replied.<br> +<br> +To work at her needle she could very well,<br> +And for raising of paste few could her excel;<br> +She being so handy, the cook’s heart did win,<br> +And then she was called by the name of Catskin.<br> +<br> +PART III.<br> +<br> +The lady a son had both comely and tall,<br> +Who oftentimes usèd to be at a ball<br> +A mile out of town; and one evening-tide,<br> +To dance at this ball away he did ride.<br> +<br> +Catskin said to his mother, ‘Pray, madam, let me<br> +Go after your son now, this ball for to see.’<br> +With that in a passion this lady she grew,<br> +And struck her with the ladle, and broke it in two.<br> +<br> +On being thus servèd she quick got away,<br> +And in her rich garments herself did array;<br> +And then to this ball she with speed did retire,<br> +Where she dancèd so bravely that all did admire.<br> +<br> +The sport being done, the young squire did say,<br> +‘Young lady, where do you live? tell me, I pray.’<br> +Her answer was to him, ‘Sir, that I will tell, -<br> +At the sign of the broken ladle I dwell.’<br> +<br> +She being very nimble, got home first, ’tis said,<br> +And in her catskin robes she soon was arrayed;<br> +And into the kitchen again she did go,<br> +But where she had been they did none of them know.<br> +<br> +Next night this young squire, to give him content,<br> +To dance at this ball again forth he went.<br> +She said, ‘Pray let me go this ball for to view.’<br> +Then she struck with the skimmer, and broke it in two.<br> +<br> +Then out of the doors she ran full of heaviness,<br> +And in her rich garments herself soon did dress;<br> +And to this ball ran away with all speed,<br> +Where to see her dancing all wondered indeed.<br> +<br> +The ball being ended, the young squire said,<br> +‘Where is it you live?’ She again answerèd,<br> +‘Sir, because you ask me, account I will give,<br> +At the sign of the broken skimmer I live.’<br> +<br> +Being dark when she left him, she homeward did hie,<br> +And in her catskin robes she was dressed presently,<br> +And into the kitchen amongst them she went,<br> +But where she had been they were all innocent.<br> +<br> +When the squire dame home, and found Catskin there,<br> +He was in amaze and began for to swear;<br> +‘For two nights at the ball has been a lady,<br> +The sweetest of beauties that ever I did see.<br> +<br> +‘She was the best dancer in all the whole place,<br> +And very much like our Catskin in the face;<br> +Had she not been dressed in that costly degree,<br> +I should have swore it was Catskin’s body.<br> +<br> +Next night to the ball he did go once more,<br> +And she askèd his mother to go as before,<br> +Who, having a basin of water in hand,<br> +She threw it at Catskin, as I understand.<br> +<br> +Shaking her wet ears, out of doors she did run,<br> +And dressèd herself when this thing she had done.<br> +To the ball once more she then went her ways;<br> +To see her fine dancing they all gave her praise.<br> +<br> +And having concluded, the young squire said he,<br> +‘From whence might you come, pray, lady, tell me?’<br> +Her answer was, ‘Sir, you shall soon know the same,<br> +From the sign of the basin of water I came.’<br> +<br> +Then homeward she hurried, as fast as could be;<br> +This young squire then was resolvèd to see<br> +Whereto she belonged, and, following Catskin,<br> +Into an old straw house he saw her creep in.<br> +<br> +He said, ‘O brave Catskin, I find it is thee,<br> +Who these three nights together has so charmèd me;<br> +Thou’rt the sweetest of creatures my eyes e’er beheld,<br> +With joy and content my heart now is filled.<br> +<br> +‘Thou art our cook’s scullion, but as I have life,<br> +Grant me but thy love, and I’ll make thee my wife,<br> +And thou shalt have maids for to be at thy call.’<br> +‘Sir, that cannot be, I’ve no portion at all.’<br> +<br> +‘Thy beauty’s a portion, my joy and my dear,<br> +I prize it far better than thousands a year,<br> +And to have my friends’ consent I have got a trick,<br> +I’ll go to my bed, and feign myself sick.<br> +<br> +‘There no one shall tend me but thee I profess;<br> +So one day or another in thy richest dress,<br> +Thou shalt be clad, and if my parents come nigh,<br> +I’ll tell them ’tis for thee that sick I do lie.’<br> +<br> +PART IV.<br> +<br> +Thus having consulted, this couple parted.<br> +Next day this young squire he took to his bed;<br> +And when his dear parents this thing both perceived,<br> +For fear of his death they were right sorely grieved.<br> +<br> +To tend him they send for a nurse speedily,<br> +He said, ‘None but Catskin my nurse now shall be.’<br> +His parents said, ‘No, son.’ He said, ‘But she +shall,<br> +Or else I’ll have none for to nurse me at all.’<br> +<br> +His parents both wondered to hear him say thus,<br> +That no one but Catskin must be his nurse;<br> +So then his dear parents their son to content,<br> +Up into his chamber poor Catskin they sent.<br> +<br> +Sweet cordials and other rich things were prepared,<br> +Which between this young couple were equally shared;<br> +And when all alone they in each other’s arms,<br> +Enjoyed one another in love’s pleasant charms.<br> +<br> +And at length on a time poor Catskin, ’tis said,<br> +In her rich attire again was arrayed,<br> +And when that his mother to the chamber drew near,<br> +Then much like a goddess did Catskin appear;<br> +<br> +Which caused her to stare, and thus for to say,<br> +‘What young lady is this, come tell me, I pray?’<br> +He said, ‘It is Catskin for whom sick I lie,<br> +And except I do have her with speed I shall die.’<br> +<br> +His mother then hastened to call up the knight,<br> +Who ran up to see this amazing great sight;<br> +He said, ‘Is this Catskin we held in such scorn?<br> +I ne’er saw a finer dame since I was born.’<br> +<br> +The old knight he said to her, ‘I prithee tell me,<br> +From whence thou didst come and of what family?’<br> +Then who were her parents she gave them to know,<br> +And what was the cause of her wandering so.<br> +<br> +The young squire he cried, ‘If you will save my life,<br> +Pray grant this young creature she may be my wife.’<br> +His father replied, ‘Thy life for to save,<br> +If you have agreed, my consent you may have.’<br> +<br> +Next day, with great triumph and joy as we hear,<br> +There were many coaches came far and near;<br> +Then much like a goddess dressed in rich array,<br> +Catskin was married to the squire that day.<br> +<br> +For several days this wedding did last,<br> +Where was many a topping and gallant repast,<br> +And for joy the bells rung out all over the town,<br> +And bottles of canary rolled merrily round.<br> +<br> +When Catskin was married, her fame for to raise,<br> +Who saw her modest carriage they all gave her praise;<br> +Thus her charming beauty the squire did win;<br> +And who lives so great now as he and Catskin.<br> +<br> +PART V.<br> +<br> +Now in the fifth part I’ll endeavour to show,<br> +How things with her parents and sister did go;<br> +Her mother and sister of life are bereft,<br> +And now all alone the old squire is left.<br> +<br> +Who hearing his daughter was married so brave,<br> +He said, ‘In my noddle a fancy I have;<br> +Dressed like a poor man now a journey I’ll make,<br> +And see if she on me some pity will take.’<br> +<br> +Then dressed like a beggar he went to her gate,<br> +Where stood his daughter, who looked very great;<br> +He cried, ‘Noble lady, a poor man I be,<br> +And am now forced to crave charity.’<br> +<br> +With a blush she asked him from whence that he came;<br> +And with that he told her, and likewise his name.<br> +She cried ‘I’m your daughter, whom you slighted so,<br> +Yet, nevertheless, to you kindness I’ll show.<br> +<br> +‘Through mercy the Lord hath provided for me;<br> +Pray, father, come in and sit down then,’ said she.<br> +Then the best provisions the house could afford,<br> +For to make him welcome was set on the board.<br> +<br> +She said, ‘You are welcome, feed hearty, I pray,<br> +And, if you are willing, with me you shall stay,<br> +So long as you live.’ Then he made this reply:<br> +‘I only am come now thy love for to try.<br> +<br> +‘Through mercy, my dear child, I’m rich and not poor,<br> +I have gold and silver enough now in store;<br> +And for this love which at thy hands I have found,<br> +For thy portion I’ll give thee ten thousand pound.’<br> +<br> +So in a few days after, as I understand,<br> +This man he went home, and sold off all his land,<br> +And ten thousand pounds to his daughter did give,<br> +And now altogether in love they do live.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE BRAVE EARL BRAND AND THE KING OF ENGLAND’S DAUGHTER. +(TRADITIONAL.)<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This ballad, which resembles the Danish ballad of <i>Ribolt</i>, was +taken down from the recitation of an old fiddler in Northumberland: +in one verse there is an <i>hiatus</i>, owing to the failure of the +reciter’s memory. The refrain should be repeated in every +verse.]<br> +<br> +<br> +O did you ever hear of the brave Earl Brand,<br> +Hey lillie, ho lillie lallie;<br> +His courted the king’s daughter o’ fair England,<br> +I’ the brave nights so early!<br> +<br> +She was scarcely fifteen years that tide,<br> +When sae boldly she came to his bed-side,<br> +‘O, Earl Brand, how fain wad I see<br> +A pack of hounds let loose on the lea.’<br> +<br> +‘O, lady fair, I have no steed but one,<br> +But thou shalt ride and I will run.’<br> +‘O, Earl Brand, but my father has two,<br> +And thou shalt have the best of tho’.’<br> +<br> +Now they have ridden o’er moss and moor,<br> +And they have met neither rich nor poor;<br> +Till at last they met with old Carl Hood,<br> +He’s aye for ill, and never for good.<br> +<br> +‘Now Earl Brand, an ye love me,<br> +Slay this old Carl and gar him dee.’<br> +‘O, lady fair, but that would be sair,<br> +To slay an auld Carl that wears grey hair.<br> +<br> +‘My own lady fair, I’ll not do that,<br> +I’ll pay him his fee . . . . . . ’<br> +‘O, where have ye ridden this lee lang day,<br> +And where have ye stown this fair lady away?’<br> +<br> +‘I have not ridden this lee lang day,<br> +Nor yet have I stown this lady away;<br> +‘For she is, I trow, my sick sister,<br> +Whom I have been bringing fra’ Winchester.’<br> +<br> +‘If she’s been sick, and nigh to dead,<br> +What makes her wear the ribbon so red?<br> +‘If she’s been sick, and like to die,<br> +What makes her wear the gold sae high?’<br> +<br> +When came the Carl to the lady’s yett,<br> +He rudely, rudely rapped thereat.<br> +‘Now where is the lady of this hall?’<br> +‘She’s out with her maids a playing at the ball.’<br> +<br> +‘Ha, ha, ha! ye are all mista’en,<br> +Ye may count your maidens owre again.<br> +‘I met her far beyond the lea<br> +With the young Earl Brand his leman to be.’<br> +<br> +Her father of his best men armed fifteen,<br> +And they’re ridden after them bidene.<br> +The lady looked owre her left shoulder then,<br> +Says, ‘O Earl Brand we are both of us ta’en.’<br> +<br> +‘If they come on me one by one,<br> +You may stand by till the fights be done;<br> +‘But if they come on me one and all,<br> +You may stand by and see me fall.’<br> +<br> +They came upon him one by one,<br> +Till fourteen battles he has won;<br> +And fourteen men he has them slain,<br> +Each after each upon the plain.<br> +<br> +But the fifteenth man behind stole round,<br> +And dealt him a deep and a deadly wound.<br> +Though he was wounded to the deid,<br> +He set his lady on her steed.<br> +<br> +They rode till they came to the river Doune,<br> +And there they lighted to wash his wound.<br> +‘O, Earl Brand, I see your heart’s blood!’<br> +‘It’s nothing but the glent and my scarlet hood.’<br> +<br> +They rode till they came to his mother’s yett,<br> +So faint and feebly he rapped thereat.<br> +‘O, my son’s slain, he is falling to swoon,<br> +And it’s all for the sake of an English loon.’<br> +<br> +‘O, say not so, my dearest mother,<br> +But marry her to my youngest brother -<br> +‘To a maiden true he’ll give his hand,<br> +Hey lillie, ho lillie lallie.<br> +<br> +To the king’s daughter o’ fair England,<br> +To a prize that was won by a slain brother’s brand,<br> +I’ the brave nights so early!’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE JOVIAL HUNTER OF BROMSGROVE; OR, THE OLD MAN AND HIS THREE +SONS. (TRADITIONAL.)<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The following ballad has long been popular in Worcestershire and some +of the adjoining counties. It was printed for the first time by +Mr. Allies of Worcester, under the title of <i>The</i> <i>Jovial Hunter +of Bromsgrove</i>; but amongst the peasantry of that county, and the +adjoining county of Warwick, it has always been called <i>The Old Man +and his Three Sons</i> - the name given to a fragment of the ballad +still used as a nursery song in the north of England, the chorus of +which slightly varies from that of the ballad. See post, p. 250. +The title of <i>The Old Man and his</i> <i>Three Sons</i> is derived +from the usage of calling a ballad after the first line - a practice +that has descended to the present day. In Shakspeare’s comedy +of <i>As You Like It</i> there appears to be an allusion to this ballad. +Le Beau says, -<br> +<br> +<br> +There comes an old man and his three sons,<br> +<br> +<br> +to which Celia replies,<br> +<br> +<br> +I could match this beginning with an old tale. - i. 2.<br> +<br> +<br> +Whether <i>The Jovial Hunter</i> belongs to either Worcestershire or +Warwickshire is rather questionable. The probability is that it +is a north country ballad connected with the family of Bolton, of Bolton, +in Wensleydale. A tomb, said to be that of Sir Ryalas Bolton, +the <i>Jovial Hunter</i>, is shown in Bromsgrove church, Worcestershire; +but there is no evidence beyond tradition to connect it with the name +or deeds of any ‘Bolton;’ indeed it is well known that the +tomb belongs to a family of another name. In the following version +are preserved some of the peculiarities of the Worcestershire dialect.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Old Sir Robert Bolton had three sons,<br> +Wind well thy horn, good hunter;<br> +And one of them was Sir Ryalas,<br> +For he was a jovial hunter.<br> +<br> +He ranged all round down by the wood side,<br> +Wind well thy horn, good hunter,<br> +Till in a tree-top a gay lady he spied,<br> +For he was a jovial hunter.<br> +<br> +‘Oh, what dost thee mean, fair lady,’ said he,<br> +Wind well thy horn, good hunter;<br> +‘The wild boar’s killed my lord, and has thirty men gored,<br> +And thou beest a jovial hunter.’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, what shall I do this wild boar for to see?’<br> +Wind well thy horn, good hunter;<br> +‘Oh, thee blow a blast and he’ll come unto thee,<br> +As thou beest a jovial hunter.’<br> +<br> +Then he blowed a blast, full north, east, west, and south,<br> +Wind well thy horn, good hunter;<br> +And the wild boar then heard him full in his den,<br> +As he was a jovial hunter.<br> +<br> +Then he made the best of his speed unto him,<br> +Wind well thy horn, good hunter;<br> +[Swift flew the boar, with his tusks smeared with [gore], <a name="citation11"></a><a href="#footnote11">{11}</a><br> +To Sir Ryalas, the jovial hunter.<br> +<br> +Then the wild boar, being so stout and so strong,<br> +Wind well thy horn, good hunter;<br> +Thrashed down the trees as he ramped him along,<br> +To Sir Ryalas, the jovial hunter.<br> +<br> +‘Oh, what dost thee want of me?’ wild boar, said he, <a name="citation12"></a><a href="#footnote12">{12}</a><br> +Wind well thy horn, good hunter;<br> +‘Oh, I think in my heart I can do enough for thee,<br> +For I am the jovial hunter.’<br> +<br> +Then they fought four hours in a long summer day,<br> +Wind well thy horn, good hunter;<br> +Till the wild boar fain would have got him away<br> +From Sir Ryalas, the jovial hunter.<br> +<br> +Then Sir Ryalas drawed his broad sword with might,<br> +Wind well thy horn, good hunter;<br> +And he fairly cut the boar’s head off quite,<br> +For he was a jovial hunter.<br> +<br> +Then out of the wood the wild woman flew,<br> +Wind well thy horn, good hunter;<br> +‘Oh, my pretty spotted pig thou hast slew,<br> +For thou beest a jovial hunter.<br> +<br> +‘There are three things, I demand them of thee,’<br> +Wind well thy horn, good hunter;<br> +‘It’s thy horn, and thy hound, and thy gay lady,<br> +As thou beest a jovial hunter.’<br> +<br> +‘If these three things thou dost ask of me,’<br> +Wind well thy horn, good hunter;<br> +‘It’s just as my sword and thy neck can agree,<br> +For I am a jovial hunter.’<br> +<br> +Then into his long locks the wild woman flew,<br> +Wind well thy horn, good hunter;<br> +Till she thought in her heart to tear him through,<br> +Though he was a jovial hunter.<br> +<br> +Then Sir Ryalas drawed his broad sword again,<br> +Wind well thy horn, good hunter,<br> +And he fairly split her head into twain,<br> +For he was a jovial hunter.<br> +<br> +In Bromsgrove church, the knight he doth lie,<br> +Wind well thy horn, good hunter;<br> +And the wild boar’s head is pictured thereby,<br> +Sir Ryalas, the jovial hunter.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: LADY ALICE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This old ballad is regularly published by the stall printers. +The termination resembles that of <i>Lord Lovel</i> and other ballads. +See <i>Early Ballads</i>, Ann. Ed. p. 134. An imperfect +traditional copy was printed in <i>Notes and Queries</i>.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Lady Alice was sitting in her bower window,<br> +At midnight mending her quoif;<br> +And there she saw as fine a corpse<br> +As ever she saw in her life.<br> +<br> +‘What bear ye, what bear ye, ye six men tall?<br> +What bear ye on your shouldèrs?’<br> +‘We bear the corpse of Giles Collins,<br> +An old and true lover of yours.’<br> +<br> +‘O, lay him down gently, ye six men tall,<br> +All on the grass so green,<br> +And to-morrow when the sun goes down,<br> +Lady Alice a corpse shall be seen.<br> +<br> +‘And bury me in Saint Mary’s Church,<br> +All for my love so true;<br> +And make me a garland of marjoram,<br> +And of lemon thyme, and rue.’<br> +<br> +Giles Collins was buried all in the east,<br> +Lady Alice all in the west;<br> +And the roses that grew on Giles Collins’s grave,<br> +They reached Lady Alice’s breast.<br> +<br> +The priest of the parish he chancèd to pass,<br> +And he severed those roses in twain.<br> +Sure never were seen such true lovers before,<br> +Nor e’er will there be again.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE FELON SEWE OF ROKEBY AND THE FREERES OF RICHMOND.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This very curious ballad, or, more properly, metrical romance, was +originally published by the late Doctor Whitaker in his <i>History of +Craven</i>, from an ancient MS., which was supposed to be unique. +Whitaker’s version was transferred to Evan’s <i>Old Ballads</i>, +the editor of which work introduced some judicious conjectural emendations. +In reference to this republication, Dr. Whitaker inserted the following +note in the second edition of his <i>History</i>:-<br> +<br> +<br> +This tale, saith my MS., was known of old to a few families only, and +by them held so precious, that it was never intrusted to the memory +of the son till the father was on his death-bed. But times are +altered, for since the first edition of this work, a certain bookseller +[the late Mr. Evans] has printed it verbatim, with little acknowledgment +to the first editor. He might have recollected that <i>The Felon</i> +<i>Sewe</i> had been already reclaimed <i>property vested</i>. +However, as he is an ingenious and deserving man, this hint shall suffice. +- <i>History of</i> <i>Craven</i>, second edition, London, 1812.<br> +<br> +<br> +When Sir Walter Scott published his poem of Rokeby, Doctor Whitaker +discovered that <i>The Felon Sewe</i> was not of such ‘exceeding +rarity’ as he had been led to suppose; for he was then made acquainted +with the fact that another MS. of the ‘unique’ ballad was +preserved in the archives of the Rokeby family. This version was +published by Scott, who considered it superior to that printed by Whitaker; +and it must undoubtedly be admitted to be more complete, and, in general, +more correct. It has also the advantage of being authenticated +by the traditions of an ardent family; while of Dr. Whitaker’s +version we know nothing more than that it was ‘printed from a +MS. in his possession.’ The readings of the Rokeby MS., +however, are not always to be preferred; and in order to produce as +full and accurate a version as the materials would yield, the following +text has been founded upon a careful collation of both MSS. A +few alterations have been adopted, but only when the necessity for them +appeared to be self-evident; and the orthography has been rendered tolerably +uniform, for there is no good reason why we should have ‘sewe,’ +‘scho,’ and ‘sike,’ in some places, and the +more modern forms of ‘sow,’ ‘she,’ and ‘such,’ +in others. If the MSS. were correctly transcribed, which we have +no ground for doubting, they must both be referred to a much later period +than the era when the author flourished. The language of the poem +is that of Craven, in Yorkshire; and, although the composition is acknowledged +on all hands to be one of the reign of Henry VII., the provincialisms +of that most interesting mountain district have been so little affected +by the spread of education, that the <i>Felon</i> <i>Sewe</i> is at +the present day perfectly comprehensible to any Craven peasant, and +to such a reader neither note nor glossary is necessary. Dr. Whitaker’s +explanations are, therefore, few and brief, for he was thoroughly acquainted +with the language and the district. Scott, on the contrary, who +knew nothing of the dialect, and confounded its pure Saxon with his +Lowland Scotch, gives numerous notes, which only display his want of +the requisite local knowledge, and are, consequently, calculated to +mislead.<br> +<br> +The <i>Felon Sewe</i> belongs to the same class of compositions as the +<i>Hunting of the Hare</i>, reprinted by Weber, and the <i>Tournament</i> +<i>of Tottenham</i>, in Percy’s <i>Reliques</i>. Scott says +that ‘the comic romance was a sort of parody upon the usual subjects +of minstrel poetry.’ This idea may be extended, for the +old comic romances were in many instances not merely ‘sorts of +parodies,’ but real parodies on compositions which were popular +in their day, although they have not descended to us. We certainly +remember to have met with an old chivalric romance, in which the leading +incidents were similar to those of the <i>Felon Sewe.<br> +<br> +</i>It may be observed, also, in reference to this poem, that the design +is twofold, the ridicule being equally aimed at the minstrels and the +clergy. The author was in all probability a follower of Wickliffe. +There are many sly satirical allusions to the Romish faith and practices, +in which no orthodox Catholic would have ventured to indulge.<br> +<br> +Ralph Rokeby, who gave the sow to the Franciscan Friars of Richmond, +is believed to have been the Ralph who lived in the reign of Henry VII. +Tradition represents the Baron as having been ‘a fellow of infinite +jest,’ and the very man to bestow so valuable a gift on the convent! +The Mistress Rokeby of the ballad was, according to the pedigree of +the family, a daughter and heiress of Danby, of Yafforth. Friar +Theobald cannot be traced, and therefore we may suppose that the monk +had some other name; the minstrel author, albeit a Wickliffite, not +thinking it quite prudent, perhaps, to introduce a priest <i>in propriâ +personâ</i>. The story is told with spirit, and the verse +is graceful and flowing.]<br> +<br> +<br> +FITTE THE FIRSTE.<br> +<br> +Ye men that will of aunters wynne,<br> +That late within this lande hath bin,<br> +Of on I will yow telle;<br> +And of a sewe that was sea strang,<br> +Alas! that ever scho lived sea lang,<br> +For fell folk did scho wele. <a name="citation13"></a><a href="#footnote13">{13}</a><br> +<br> +Scho was mare than other three,<br> +The grizeliest beast that ere mote bee<br> +Her hede was greate and graye;<br> +Scho was bred in Rokebye woode,<br> +Ther war few that thither yoode, <a name="citation14"></a><a href="#footnote14">{14}</a><br> +But cam belive awaye.<br> +<br> +Her walke was endlang Greta syde,<br> +Was no barne that colde her byde,<br> +That was fra heven or helle; <a name="citation15"></a><a href="#footnote15">{15}</a><br> +Ne never man that had that myght,<br> +That ever durst com in her syght,<br> +Her force it was sea felle.<br> +<br> +Raphe <a name="citation16"></a><a href="#footnote16">{16}</a> of Rokebye, +with full gode wyll,<br> +The freers of Richmonde gav her tyll,<br> +Full wele to gar thayme fare;<br> +Freer Myddeltone by name,<br> +Hee was sent to fetch her hame,<br> +Yt rewed him syne full sare.<br> +<br> +Wyth hym tooke hee wyght men two,<br> +Peter of Dale was on of tho,<br> +Tother was Bryan of Beare; <a name="citation17"></a><a href="#footnote17">{17}</a><br> +Thatte wele durst strike wyth swerde and knife,<br> +And fyght full manlie for theyr lyfe,<br> +What tyme as musters were. <a name="citation18"></a><a href="#footnote18">{18}</a><br> +<br> +These three men wended at theyr wyll,<br> +This wickede sewe gwhyl they cam tyll,<br> +Liggand under a tree;<br> +Rugg’d and rustic was her here,<br> +Scho rase up wyth a felon fere, <a name="citation19"></a><a href="#footnote19">{19}</a><br> +To fyght agen the three.<br> +<br> +Grizely was scho for to meete,<br> +Scho rave the earthe up wyth her feete,<br> +The barke cam fra’ the tree:<br> +When Freer Myddeltone her saugh,<br> +Wete yow wele hee list not laugh,<br> +Full earnestful luik’d hee.<br> +<br> +These men of auncestors <a name="citation20"></a><a href="#footnote20">{20}</a> +were so wight,<br> +They bound them bauldly for to fyght,<br> +And strake at her full sare;<br> +Until a kilne they garred her flee,<br> +Wolde God sende thayme the victorye,<br> +They wolde aske hym na maire.<br> +<br> +The sewe was in the kilne hoile doone,<br> +And they wer on the bawke aboone,<br> +For hurting of theyr feete;<br> +They wer sea sauted <a name="citation21"></a><a href="#footnote21">{21}</a> +wyth this sewe,<br> +That ’mang thayme was a stalwarth stewe,<br> +The kilne began to reeke!<br> +<br> +Durst noe man nighe her wyth his hande,<br> +But put a rape downe wyth a wande,<br> +And heltered her ful meete;<br> +They hauled her furth agen her wyll,<br> +Qunyl they cam until a hille,<br> +A little fra the streete. <a name="citation22"></a><a href="#footnote22">{22}</a><br> +<br> +And ther scho made thayme sike a fray,<br> +As, had they lived until Domesday,<br> +They colde yt nere forgette:<br> +Scho brayded upon every syde,<br> +And ranne on thayme gapyng ful wyde,<br> +For nathing wolde scho lette.<br> +<br> +Scho gaf sike hard braydes at the bande<br> +That Peter of Dale had in his hande,<br> +Hee myght not holde hys feete;<br> +Scho chasèd thayme sea to and fro,<br> +The wight men never wer sea woe,<br> +Ther mesure was not mete.<br> +<br> +Scho bound her boldly to abide,<br> +To Peter of Dale scho cam aside,<br> +Wyth mony a hideous yelle;<br> +Scho gaped sea wide and cryed sea hee,<br> +The freer sayd, ‘I conjure thee,<br> +Thou art a fiend of helle!<br> +<br> +‘Thou art comed hider for sum trayne,<br> +I conjure thee to go agayne,<br> +Wher thou was wont to dwell.’<br> +He sainèd hym wyth crosse and creede,<br> +Tooke furth a booke, began to reade,<br> +In Ste Johan hys gospell.<br> +<br> +The sewe scho wolde not Latyne heare,<br> +But rudely rushèd at the freer,<br> +That blynkèd all his blee; <a name="citation23"></a><a href="#footnote23">{23}</a><br> +And when scho wolde have takken holde,<br> +The freer leapt as I. H. S. wolde, <a name="citation24"></a><a href="#footnote24">{24}</a><br> +And bealed hym wyth a tree.<br> +<br> +Scho was brim as anie beare,<br> +For all their meete to laboure there,<br> +To thayme yt was noe boote;<br> +On tree and bushe that by her stode,<br> +Scho vengèd her as scho wer woode,<br> +And rave thayme up by roote.<br> +<br> +Hee sayd, ‘Alas that I wer freer,<br> +I shal bee hugged asunder here,<br> +Hard is my destinie!<br> +Wiste my brederen, in this houre,<br> +That I was set in sike a stoure,<br> +They wolde pray for mee!’<br> +<br> +This wicked beaste thatte wrought the woe,<br> +Tooke that rape from the other two,<br> +And than they fledd all three;<br> +They fledd away by Watling streete,<br> +They had no succour but their feete,<br> +Yt was the maire pittye.<br> +<br> +The fielde it was both loste and wonne,<br> +The sewe wente hame, and thatte ful soone,<br> +To Morton-on-the-Greene.<br> +When Raphe of Rokeby saw the rape,<br> +He wist that there had bin debate,<br> +Whereat the sewe had beene.<br> +<br> +He bade thayme stand out of her waye,<br> +For scho had had a sudden fraye, -<br> +‘I saw never sewe sea keene,<br> +Some new thingis shall wee heare,<br> +Of her and Myddeltone the freer,<br> +Some battel hath ther beene.’<br> +<br> +But all that servèd him for nought, -<br> +Had they not better succour sought, <a name="citation25"></a><a href="#footnote25">{25}</a><br> +They wer servèd therfore loe.<br> +Then Mistress Rokebye came anon,<br> +And for her brought scho meete ful soone,<br> +The sewe cam her untoe.<br> +<br> +Scho gav her meete upon the flower;<br> +[Scho made a bed beneath a bower,<br> +With moss and broom besprent;<br> +The sewe was gentle as mote be,<br> +Ne rage ne ire flashed fra her e’e,<br> +Scho seemèd wele content.]<br> +<br> +FITTE THE SECONDE.<br> +<br> +When Freer Myddeltone com home,<br> +Hys breders war ful faine ilchone,<br> +And thanked God for hys lyfe;<br> +He told thayme all unto the ende,<br> +How hee had foughten wyth a fiende,<br> +And lived thro’ mickle stryfe.<br> +<br> +‘Wee gav her battel half a daye,<br> +And was faine to flee awaye<br> +For saving of oure lyfe;<br> +And Peter Dale wolde never blin,<br> +But ran as faste as he colde rinn,<br> +Till he cam till hys wyfe.’<br> +<br> +The Warden sayde, ‘I am ful woe<br> +That yow sholde bee torment soe,<br> +But wee had wyth yow beene!<br> +Had wee bene ther, yowr breders alle,<br> +Wee wolde hav garred the warlo <a name="citation26"></a><a href="#footnote26">{26}</a> +falle,<br> +That wrought yow all thys teene.’<br> +<br> +Freer Myddeltone, he sayde soon, ‘Naye,<br> +In faythe ye wolde hav ren awaye,<br> +When moste misstirre had bin;<br> +Ye all can speke safte wordes at home,<br> +The fiend wolde ding yow doone ilk on,<br> +An yt bee als I wene,<br> +<br> +Hee luik’d sea grizely al that nyght.’<br> +The Warden sayde, ‘Yon man wol fyght<br> +If ye saye ought but gode,<br> +Yon guest <a name="citation27"></a><a href="#footnote27">{27}</a> hath +grievèd hym sea sore;<br> +Holde your tongues, and speake ne more,<br> +Hee luiks als hee wer woode.’<br> +<br> +The Warden wagèd <a name="citation28"></a><a href="#footnote28">{28}</a> +on the morne,<br> +Two boldest men that ever wer borne,<br> +I weyne, or ere shall bee:<br> +Tone was Gilbert Griffin sonne,<br> +Ful mickle worship hadde hee wonne,<br> +Both by land and sea.<br> +<br> +Tother a bastard sonne of Spaine,<br> +Mony a Sarazin hadde hee slaine;<br> +Hys dint hadde garred thayme dye.<br> +Theis men the battel undertoke<br> +Agen the sewe, as saythe the boke,<br> +And sealed securitye,<br> +<br> +That they shold boldly bide and fyghte,<br> +And scomfit her in maine and myghte,<br> +Or therfor sholde they dye.<br> +The Warden sealed toe thayme againe,<br> +And sayde, ‘If ye in fielde be slaine,<br> +This condition make I:<br> +<br> +‘Wee shall for yow praye, syng, and reade,<br> +Until Domesdaye wyth heartye speede,<br> +With al our progenie.’<br> +Then the lettres wer wele made,<br> +The bondes wer bounde wyth seales brade,<br> +As deeds of arms sholde bee.<br> +<br> +Theise men-at-arms thatte wer sea wight,<br> +And wyth theire armour burnished bryght,<br> +They went the sewe toe see.<br> +Scho made at thayme sike a roare,<br> +That for her they fear it sore,<br> +And almaiste bounde to flee.<br> +<br> +Scho cam runnyng thayme agayne,<br> +And saw the bastarde sonne of Spaine,<br> +Hee brayded owt hys brande;<br> +Ful spiteouslie at her hee strake,<br> +Yet for the fence that he colde make,<br> +Scho strake it fro hys hande,<br> +And rave asander half hys sheelde,<br> +And bare hym backwerde in the fielde,<br> +Hee mought not her gainstande.<br> +<br> +Scho wolde hav riven hys privich geare,<br> +But Gilbert wyth hys swerde of warre,<br> +Hee strake at her ful strang.<br> +In her shouther hee held the swerde;<br> +Than was Gilbert sore afearde,<br> +When the blade brak in twang.<br> +<br> +And whan in hande hee had her ta’en,<br> +Scho toke hym by the shouther bane,<br> +And held her hold ful faste;<br> +Scho strave sea stifflie in thatte stoure,<br> +Scho byt thro’ ale hys rich armoure,<br> +Till bloud cam owt at laste.<br> +<br> +Than Gilbert grievèd was sea sare,<br> +That hee rave off the hyde of haire;<br> +The flesh cam fra the bane,<br> +And wyth force hee held her ther,<br> +And wanne her worthilie in warre,<br> +And band her hym alane;<br> +<br> +And lifte her on a horse sea hee,<br> +Into two panyers made of a tree,<br> +And toe Richmond anon.<br> +When they sawe the felon come,<br> +They sange merrilye Te Deum!<br> +The freers evrich one.<br> +<br> +They thankyd God and Saynte Frauncis,<br> +That they had wonne the beaste of pris,<br> +And nere a man was sleyne:<br> +There never didde man more manlye,<br> +The Knyght Marone, or Sir Guye,<br> +Nor Louis of Lothraine.<br> +<br> +If yow wyl any more of thys,<br> +I’ the fryarie at Richmond <a name="citation29"></a><a href="#footnote29">{29}</a> +written yt is,<br> +In parchment gude and fyne,<br> +How Freer Myddeltone sea hende,<br> +Att Greta Bridge conjured a fiende,<br> +In lykeness of a swyne.<br> +<br> +Yt is wel knowen toe manie a man,<br> +That Freer Theobald was warden than,<br> +And thys fel in hys tyme.<br> +And Chryst thayme bles both ferre and nere,<br> +Al that for solas this doe here,<br> +And hym that made the ryme.<br> +<br> +Raphe of Rokeby wid ful gode wyl,<br> +The freers of Richmond gav her tyll,<br> +This sewe toe mende ther fare;<br> +Freer Myddeltone by name,<br> +He wold bring the felon hame,<br> +That rewed hym sine ful sare.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: ARTHUR O’BRADLEY’S WEDDING.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[In the ballad called <i>Robin Hood, his Birth, Breeding, Valour</i> +<i>and Marriage</i>, occurs the following line:-<br> +<br> +<br> +And some singing Arthur-a-Bradley.<br> +<br> +<br> +Antiquaries are by no means agreed as to what is the song of <i>Arthur-a-Bradley</i>, +there alluded to, for it so happens that there are no less than three +different songs about this same Arthur-a-Bradley. Ritson gives +one of them in his <i>Robin Hood</i>, commencing thus:-<br> +<br> +<br> +See you not Pierce the piper.<br> +<br> +<br> +He took it from a black-letter copy in a private collection, compared +with, and very much corrected by, a copy contained in <i>An</i> <i>Antidote +against Melancholy, made up in pills compounded of</i> <i>witty Ballads, +jovial Songs, and merry Catches</i>, 1661. Ritson quotes another, +and apparently much more modern song on the same subject, and to the +same tune, beginning, -<br> +<br> +All in the merry month of May.<br> +<br> +<br> +It is a miserable composition, as may be seen by referring to a copy +preserved in the third volume of the Roxburgh Ballads. There is +another song, the one given by us, which appears to be as ancient as +any of those of which Arthur O’Bradley is the hero, and from its +subject being a wedding, as also from its being the only Arthur O’Bradley +song that we have been enabled to trace in broadside and chap-books +of the last century, we are induced to believe that it may be the song +mentioned in the old ballad, which is supposed to have been written +in the reign of Charles I. An obscure music publisher, who about +thirty years ago resided in the Metropolis, brought out an edition of +<i>Arthur</i> <i>O’Bradley’s Wedding</i>, with the prefix +‘Written by Mr. Taylor.’ This Mr. Taylor was, however, +only a low comedian of the day, and the ascribed authorship was a mere +trick on the publisher’s part to increase the sale of the song. +We are not able to give any account of the hero, but from his being +alluded to by so many of our old writers, he was, perhaps, not altogether +a fictitious personage. Ben Jonson names him in one of his plays, +and he is also mentioned in Dekker’s <i>Honest Whore</i>. +Of one of the tunes mentioned in the song, viz., <i>Hence, Melancholy</i>! +we can give no account; the other, <i>- Mad Moll</i>, may be found in +Playford’s<i> Dancing-Master</i>, 1698: it is the same tune as +the one known by the names of <i>Yellow Stockings</i> and the <i>Virgin +Queen</i>, the latter title seeming to connect it with Queen Elizabeth, +as the name of Mad Moll does with the history of Mary, who was subject +to mental aberration. The words of <i>Mad Moll</i> are not known +to exist, but probably consisted of some fulsome panegyric on the virgin +queen, at the expense of her unpopular sister. From the mention +of <i>Hence, Melancholy</i>, and <i>Mad Moll</i>, it is presumed that +they were both popular favourites when <i>Arthur O’Bradley’s</i> +<i>Wedding</i> was written. A good deal of vulgar grossness has +been at different times introduced into this song, which seems in this +respect to be as elastic as the French chanson, <i>Cadet Rouselle</i>, +which is always being altered, and of which there are no two copies +alike. The tune of <i>Arthur O’Bradley</i> is given by Mr. +Chappell in his <i>Popular Music</i>.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Come, neighbours, and listen awhile,<br> +If ever you wished to smile,<br> +Or hear a true story of old,<br> +Attend to what I now unfold!<br> +’Tis of a lad whose fame did resound<br> +Through every village and town around,<br> +For fun, for frolic, and for whim,<br> +None ever was to equal him,<br> +And his name was Arthur O’Bradley!<br> +O! rare Arthur O’Bradley! wonderful Arthur O’Bradley!<br> +Sweet Arthur O’Bradley, O!<br> +<br> +Now, Arthur being stout and bold,<br> +And near upon thirty years old,<br> +He needs a wooing would go,<br> +To get him a helpmate, you know.<br> +So, gaining young Dolly’s consent,<br> +Next to be married they went;<br> +And to make himself noble appear,<br> +He mounted the old padded mare;<br> +He chose her because she was blood,<br> +And the prime of his old daddy’s stud.<br> +She was wind-galled, spavined, and blind,<br> +And had lost a near leg behind;<br> +She was cropped, and docked, and fired,<br> +And seldom, if ever, was tired,<br> +She had such an abundance of bone;<br> +So he called her his high-bred roan,<br> +A credit to Arthur O’Bradley!<br> +O! rare Arthur O’Bradley! wonderful Arthur O’Bradley!<br> +Sweet Arthur O’Bradley, O!<br> +<br> +Then he packed up his drudgery hose,<br> +And put on his holiday clothes;<br> +His coat was of scarlet so fine,<br> +Full trimmed with buttons behind;<br> +Two sleeves it had it is true,<br> +One yellow, the other was blue,<br> +And the cuffs and the capes were of green,<br> +And the longest that ever were seen;<br> +His hat, though greasy and tore,<br> +Cocked up with a feather before,<br> +And under his chin it was tied,<br> +With a strip from an old cow’s hide;<br> +His breeches three times had been turned,<br> +And two holes through the left side were burned;<br> +Two boots he had, but not kin,<br> +One leather, the other was tin;<br> +And for stirrups he had two patten rings,<br> +Tied fast to the girth with two strings;<br> +Yet he wanted a good saddle cloth,<br> +Which long had been eat by the moth.<br> +’Twas a sad misfortune, you’ll say,<br> +But still he looked gallant and gay,<br> +And his name it was Arthur O’Bradley!<br> +O! rare Arthur O’Bradley! wonderful Arthur O’Bradley!<br> +Sweet Arthur O’Bradley, O!<br> +<br> +Thus accoutred, away he did ride,<br> +While Dolly she walked by his side;<br> +Till coming up to the church door,<br> +In the midst of five thousand or more,<br> +Then from the old mare he did alight,<br> +Which put the clerk in a fright;<br> +And the parson so fumbled and shook,<br> +That presently down dropped his book.<br> +Then Arthur began for to sing,<br> +And made the whole church to ring;<br> +Crying, ‘Dolly, my dear, come hither,<br> +And let us be tacked together;<br> +For the honour of Arthur O’Bradley!’<br> +O! rare Arthur O’Bradley! wonderful Arthur O’Bradley!<br> +Sweet Arthur O’Bradley, O!<br> +<br> +Then the vicar discharged his duty,<br> +Without either reward or fee,<br> +Declaring no money he’d have;<br> +And poor Arthur he’d none to give:<br> +So, to make him a little amends,<br> +He invited him home with his friends,<br> +To have a sweet kiss at the bride,<br> +And eat a good dinner beside.<br> +The dishes, though few, were good,<br> +And the sweetest of animal food:<br> +First, a roast guinea-pig and a bantam,<br> +A sheep’s head stewed in a lanthorn, <a name="citation30"></a><a href="#footnote30">{30}</a><br> +Two calves’ feet, and a bull’s trotter,<br> +The fore and hind leg of an otter,<br> +With craw-fish, cockles, and crabs,<br> +Lump-fish, limpets, and dabs,<br> +Red herrings and sprats, by dozens,<br> +To feast all their uncles and cousins;<br> +Who seemed well pleased with their treat,<br> +And heartily they did all eat,<br> +For the honour of Arthur O’Bradley!<br> +O! rare Arthur O’Bradley! wonderful Arthur O’Bradley!<br> +Sweet Arthur O’Bradley, O!<br> +<br> +Now, the guests being well satisfied,<br> +The fragments were laid on one side,<br> +When Arthur, to make their hearts merry,<br> +Brought ale, and parkin, <a name="citation31"></a><a href="#footnote31">{31}</a> +and perry;<br> +When Timothy Twig stept in,<br> +With his pipe, and a pipkin of gin.<br> +A lad that was pleasant and jolly,<br> +And scorned to meet melancholy;<br> +He would chant and pipe so well,<br> +No youth could him excel.<br> +Not Pan the god of the swains,<br> +Could ever produce such strains;<br> +But Arthur, being first in the throng,<br> +He swore he would sing the first song,<br> +And one that was pleasant and jolly:<br> +And that should be ‘Hence, Melancholy!’<br> +‘Now give me a dance,’ quoth Doll,<br> +‘Come, Jeffrery, play up Mad Moll,<br> +’Tis time to be merry and frisky, -<br> +But first I must have some more whiskey.’<br> +‘Oh! you’re right,’ says Arthur, ‘my love!<br> +My daffy-down-dilly! my dove!<br> +My everything! my wife!<br> +I ne’er was so pleased in my life,<br> +Since my name it was Arthur O’Bradley!’<br> +O! rare Arthur O’Bradley! wonderful Arthur O’Bradley!<br> +Sweet Arthur O’Bradley, O!<br> +<br> +Then the piper he screwed up his bags,<br> +And the girls began shaking their rags;<br> +First up jumped old Mother Crewe,<br> +Two stockings, and never a shoe.<br> +Her nose was crookèd and long,<br> +Which she could easily reach with her tongue;<br> +And a hump on her back she did not lack,<br> +But you should take no notice of that;<br> +And her mouth stood all awry,<br> +And she never was heard to lie,<br> +For she had been dumb from her birth;<br> +So she nodded consent to the mirth,<br> +For honour of Arthur O’Bradley.<br> +O! rare Arthur O’Bradley! wonderful Arthur O’Bradley!<br> +Sweet Arthur O’Bradley, O!<br> +<br> +Then the parson led off at the top,<br> +Some danced, while others did hop;<br> +While some ran foul of the wall,<br> +And others down backwards did fall.<br> +There was lead up and down, figure in,<br> +Four hands across, then back again.<br> +So in dancing they spent the whole night,<br> +Till bright Phoebus appeared in their sight;<br> +When each had a kiss of the bride,<br> +And hopped home to his own fire-side:<br> +Well pleased was Arthur O’Bradley!<br> +O! rare Arthur O’Bradley! wonderful Arthur O’Bradley!<br> +Sweet Arthur O’Bradley, O!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE PAINFUL PLOUGH.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This is one of our oldest agricultural ditties, and maintains its popularity +to the present hour. It is called for at merry-makings and feasts +in every part of the country. The tune is in the minor key, and +of a pleasing character.]<br> +<br> +<br> +‘Come, all you jolly ploughmen, of courage stout and bold,<br> +That labour all the winter in stormy winds, and cold;<br> +To clothe the fields with plenty, your farm-yards to renew,<br> +To crown them with contentment, behold the painful plough!’<br> +<br> +‘Hold! ploughman,’ said the gardener, ‘don’t +count your trade with ours,<br> +Walk through the garden, and view the early flowers;<br> +Also the curious border and pleasant walks go view, -<br> +There’s none such peace and plenty performèd by the plough!’<br> +<br> +‘Hold! gardener,’ said the ploughman, ‘my calling +don’t despise,<br> +Each man for his living upon his trade relies;<br> +Were it not for the ploughman, both rich and poor would rue,<br> +For we are all dependent upon the painful plough.<br> +<br> +‘Adam in the garden was sent to keep it right,<br> +But the length of time he stayed there, I believe it was one night;<br> +Yet of his own labour, I call it not his due,<br> +Soon he lost his garden, and went to hold the plough.<br> +<br> +‘For Adam was a ploughman when ploughing first begun,<br> +The next that did succeed him was Cain, the eldest son;<br> +Some of the generation this calling now pursue;<br> +That bread may not be wanting, remains the painful plough.<br> +<br> +Samson was the strongest man, and Solomon was wise,<br> +Alexander for to conquer ’twas all his daily prise;<br> +King David was valiant, and many thousands slew,<br> +Yet none of these brave heroes could live without the plough!<br> +<br> +Behold the wealthy merchant, that trades in foreign seas,<br> +And brings home gold and treasure for those who live at ease;<br> +With fine silks and spices, and fruits also, too,<br> +They are brought from the Indies by virtue of the plough.<br> +<br> +‘For they must have bread, biscuit, rice pudding, flour and peas,<br> +To feed the jolly sailors as they sail o’er the seas;<br> +And the man that brings them will own to what is true,<br> +He cannot sail the ocean without the painful plough!<br> +<br> +‘I hope there’s none offended at me for singing this,<br> +For it is not intended for anything amiss.<br> +If you consider rightly, you’ll find what I say is true,<br> +For all that you can mention depends upon the plough.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE USEFUL PLOW; OR, THE PLOUGH’S PRAISE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The common editions of this popular song inform us that it is taken +‘from an Old Ballad,’ alluding probably to the dialogue +given at page 44. This song is quoted by Farquhar.]<br> +<br> +<br> +A country life is sweet!<br> +In moderate cold and heat,<br> +To walk in the air, how pleasant and fair!<br> +In every field of wheat,<br> +The fairest of flowers adorning the bowers,<br> +And every meadow’s brow;<br> +To that I say, no courtier may<br> +Compare with they who clothe in grey,<br> +And follow the useful plow.<br> +<br> +They rise with the morning lark,<br> +And labour till almost dark;<br> +Then folding their sheep, they hasten to sleep;<br> +While every pleasant park<br> +Next morning is ringing with birds that are singing,<br> +On each green, tender bough.<br> +With what content, and merriment,<br> +Their days are spent, whose minds are bent<br> +To follow the useful plow.<br> +<br> +The gallant that dresses fine,<br> +And drinks his bottles of wine,<br> +Were he to be tried, his feathers of pride,<br> +Which deck and adorn his back,<br> +Are tailors’ and mercers’, and other men dressers,<br> +For which they do dun them now.<br> +But Ralph and Will no compters fill<br> +For tailor’s bill, or garments still,<br> +But follow the useful plow.<br> +<br> +Their hundreds, without remorse,<br> +Some spend to keep dogs and horse,<br> +Who never would give, as long as they live,<br> +Not two-pence to help the poor;<br> +Their wives are neglected, and harlots respected;<br> +This grieves the nation now;<br> +But ’tis not so with us that go<br> +Where pleasures flow, to reap and mow,<br> +And follow the useful plow.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE FARMER’S SON.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This song, familiar to the dwellers in the dales of Yorkshire, was +published in 1729, in the <i>Vocal Miscellany; a collection of about +four hundred celebrated songs</i>. As the <i>Miscellany</i> was +merely an anthology of songs already well known, the date of this song +must have been sometime anterior to 1729. It was republished in +the <i>British Musical Miscellany, or the Delightful Grove</i>, 1796, +and in a few other old song books. It was evidently founded on +an old black-letter dialogue preserved in the Roxburgh collection, called +<i>A Mad Kinde of Wooing</i>; <i>or, a Dialogue between Will the</i> +<i>Simple and Nan the Subtill, with their loving argument</i>. +To the tune of the New Dance at the Red Bull Playhouse. Printed +by the assignees of Thomas Symcock.]<br> +<br> +<br> +‘Sweet Nelly! my heart’s delight!<br> +Be loving, and do not slight<br> +The proffer I make, for modesty’s sake:-<br> +I honour your beauty bright.<br> +For love, I profess, I can do no less,<br> +Thou hast my favour won:<br> +And since I see your modesty,<br> +I pray agree, and fancy me,<br> +Though I’m but a farmer’s son.<br> +<br> +‘No! I am a lady gay,<br> +’Tis very well known I may<br> +Have men of renown, in country or town;<br> +So! Roger, without delay,<br> +Court Bridget or Sue, Kate, Nancy, or Prue,<br> +Their loves will soon be won;<br> +But don’t you dare to speak me fair,<br> +As if I were at my last prayer,<br> +To marry a farmer’s son.’<br> +<br> +‘My father has riches’ store,<br> +Two hundred a year, and more;<br> +Beside sheep and cows, carts, harrows, and ploughs;<br> +His age is above threescore.<br> +And when he does die, then merrily I<br> +Shall have what he has won;<br> +Both land and kine, all shall be thine,<br> +If thou’lt incline, and wilt be mine,<br> +And marry a farmer’s son.’<br> +<br> +‘A fig for your cattle and corn!<br> +Your proffered love I scorn!<br> +’Tis known very well, my name is Nell,<br> +And you’re but a bumpkin born.’<br> +‘Well! since it is so, away I will go, -<br> +And I hope no harm is done;<br> +Farewell, adieu! - I hope to woo<br> +As good as you, - and win her, too,<br> +Though I’m but a farmer’s son.’<br> +<br> +‘Be not in such haste,’ quoth she,<br> +‘Perhaps we may still agree;<br> +For, man, I protest I was but in jest!<br> +Come, prythee sit down by me;<br> +For thou art the man that verily can<br> +Win me, if e’er I’m won;<br> +Both straight and tall, genteel withal;<br> +Therefore, I shall be at your call,<br> +To marry a farmer’s son.’<br> +<br> +‘Dear lady! believe me now<br> +I solemnly swear and vow,<br> +No lords in their lives take pleasure in wives,<br> +Like fellows that drive the plough:<br> +For whatever they gain with labour and pain,<br> +They don’t with ’t to harlots run,<br> +As courtiers do. I never knew<br> +A London beau that could outdo<br> +A country farmer’s son.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE FARMER’S BOY.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[Mr Denham of Piersbridge, who communicates the following, says - ‘there +is no question that the <i>Farmer’s Boy</i> is a very ancient +song; it is highly popular amongst the north country lads and lasses.’ +The date of the composition may probably be referred to the commencement +of the last century, when there prevailed amongst the ballad-mongers +a great rage for <i>Farmers’ Sons, Plough Boys, Milk Maids, Farmers’ +Boys</i>, &c. &c. The song is popular all over the country, +and there are numerous printed copies, ancient and modern.]<br> +<br> +<br> +The sun had set behind yon hills,<br> +Across yon dreary moor,<br> +Weary and lame, a boy there came<br> +Up to a farmer’s door:<br> +‘Can you tell me if any there be<br> +That will give me employ,<br> +To plow and sow, and reap and mow,<br> +And be a farmer’s boy?<br> +<br> +‘My father is dead, and mother is left<br> +With five children, great and small;<br> +And what is worse for mother still,<br> +I’m the oldest of them all.<br> +Though little, I’ll work as hard as a Turk,<br> +If you’ll give me employ,<br> +To plow and sow, and reap and mow,<br> +And be a farmer’s boy.<br> +<br> +‘And if that you won’t me employ,<br> +One favour I’ve to ask, -<br> +Will you shelter me, till break of day,<br> +From this cold winter’s blast?<br> +At break of day, I’ll trudge away<br> +Elsewhere to seek employ,<br> +To plow and sow, and reap and mow,<br> +And be a farmer’s boy.’<br> +<br> +‘Come, try the lad,’ the mistress said,<br> +‘Let him no further seek.’<br> +‘O, do, dear father!’ the daughter cried,<br> +While tears ran down her cheek:<br> +‘He’d work if he could, so ’tis hard to want food,<br> +And wander for employ;<br> +Don’t turn him away, but let him stay,<br> +And be a farmer’s boy.’<br> +<br> +And when the lad became a man,<br> +The good old farmer died,<br> +And left the lad the farm he had,<br> +And his daughter for his bride.<br> +The lad that was, the farm now has,<br> +Oft smiles, and thinks with joy<br> +Of the lucky day he came that way,<br> +To be a farmer’s boy.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: RICHARD OF TAUNTON DEAN; OR, DUMBLE DUM DEARY.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This song is very popular with the country people in every part of +England, but more particularly with the inhabitants of the counties +of Somerset, Devon, and Cornwall. The chorus is peculiar to country +songs of the West of England. There are many different versions. +The following one, communicated by Mr. Sandys, was taken down from the +singing of an old blind fiddler, ‘who,’ says Mr. Sandys, +‘used to accompany it on his instrument in an original and humorous +manner; a representative of the old minstrels!’ The air +is in <i>Popular Music</i>. In Halliwell’s<i> Nursery Rhymes +of England</i> there is a version of this song, called <i>Richard</i> +<i>of Dalton Dale</i>.<br> +<br> +The popularity of this West-country song has extended even to Ireland, +as appears from two Irish versions, supplied by the late Mr. T. Crofton +Croker. One of them is entitled <i>Last New-Year’s Day</i>, +and is printed by Haly, Hanover-street, Cork. It follows the English +song almost verbatim, with the exception of the first and second verses, +which we subjoin:-<br> +<br> +<br> +‘Last New-Year’s day, as I heard say,<br> +Dick mounted on his dapple gray;<br> +He mounted high and he mounted low,<br> +Until he came to <i>sweet Raphoe</i>!<br> +Sing fal de dol de ree,<br> +Fol de dol, righ fol dee.<br> +‘My buckskin does I did put on,<br> +My spladdery clogs, <i>to save my brogues</i>!<br> +And in my pocket a lump of bread,<br> +And round my hat a ribbon red.’<br> +<br> +<br> +The other version is entitled <i>Dicky of Ballyman</i>, and a note informs +us that ‘Dicky of Ballyman’s sirname was Byrne!’ +As our readers may like to hear how the Somersetshire bumpkin behaved +after he had located himself in the town of Ballyman, and taken the +sirname of Byrne, we give the whole of his amatory adventures in the +sister-island. We discover from them, <i>inter alia</i>, that +he had found ‘the best of friends’ in his ‘Uncle,’ +- that he had made a grand discovery in natural history, viz., that +a rabbit is a <i>fowl</i>! - that he had taken the temperance pledge, +which, however, his Mistress Ann had certainly not done; and, moreover, +that he had become an enthusiast in potatoes!<br> +<br> +<br> +DICKY OF BALLYMAN.<br> +<br> +<br> +‘On New-Year’s day, as I heard say,<br> +Dicky he saddled his dapple gray;<br> +He put on his Sunday clothes,<br> +His scarlet vest, and his new made hose.<br> +Diddle dum di, diddle dum do,<br> +Diddle dum di, diddle dum do.<br> +<br> +‘He rode till he came to Wilson Hall,<br> +There he rapped, and loud did call;<br> +Mistress Ann came down straightway,<br> +And asked him what he had to say?<br> +<br> +‘‘Don’t you know me, Mistress Ann?<br> +I am Dicky of Ballyman;<br> +An honest lad, though I am poor, -<br> +I never was in love before.<br> +<br> +‘‘I have an uncle, the best of friends,<br> +Sometimes to me a fat rabbit he sends;<br> +And many other dainty fowl,<br> +To please my life, my joy, my soul.<br> +<br> +‘‘Sometimes I reap, sometimes I mow,<br> +And to the market I do go,<br> +To sell my father’s corn and hay, -<br> +I earn my sixpence every day!’<br> +<br> +‘‘Oh, Dicky! you go beneath your mark, -<br> +You only wander in the dark;<br> +Sixpence a day will never do,<br> +I must have silks, and satins, too!<br> +<br> +‘‘Besides, Dicky, I must have tea<br> +For my breakfast, every day;<br> +And after dinner a bottle of wine, -<br> +For without it I cannot dine.’<br> +<br> +‘‘If on fine clothes our money is spent,<br> +Pray how shall my lord be paid his rent?<br> +He’ll expect it when ’tis due, -<br> +Believe me, what I say is true.<br> +<br> +‘‘As for tea, good stirabout<br> +Will do far better, I make no doubt;<br> +And spring water, when you dine,<br> +Is far wholesomer than wine.<br> +<br> +‘‘Potatoes, too, are very nice food, -<br> +I don’t know any half so good:<br> +You may have them boiled or roast,<br> +Whichever way you like them most.’<br> +<br> +‘This gave the company much delight,<br> +And made them all to laugh outright;<br> +So Dicky had no more to say,<br> +But saddled his dapple and rode away.<br> +Diddle dum di, &c.’]<br> +<br> +<br> +Last New-Year’s day, as I’ve heerd say, <a name="citation32"></a><a href="#footnote32">{32}</a><br> +Young Richard he mounted his dapple grey,<br> +And he trotted along to Taunton Dean,<br> +To court the parson’s daughter, Jean.<br> +Dumble dum deary, dumble dum deary,<br> +Dumble dum deary, dumble dum dee.<br> +<br> +With buckskin breeches, shoes and hose,<br> +And Dicky put on his Sunday clothes;<br> +Likewise a hat upon his head,<br> +All bedaubed with ribbons red.<br> +<br> +Young Richard he rode without dread or fear,<br> +Till he came to the house where lived his sweet dear,<br> +When he knocked, and shouted, and bellowed, ‘Hallo!<br> +Be the folks at home? say aye or no.’<br> +<br> +A trusty servant let him in,<br> +That he his courtship might begin;<br> +Young Richard he walked along the great hall,<br> +And loudly for mistress Jean did call.<br> +<br> +Miss Jean she came without delay,<br> +To hear what Dicky had got to say;<br> +‘I s’pose you knaw me, mistress Jean,<br> +I’m honest Richard of Taunton Dean.<br> +<br> +‘I’m an honest fellow, although I be poor,<br> +And I never was in love afore;<br> +My mother she bid me come here for to woo,<br> +And I can fancy none but you.’<br> +<br> +‘Suppose that I would be your bride,<br> +Pray how would you for me provide?<br> +For I can neither sew nor spin; -<br> +Pray what will your day’s work bring in?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, I can plough, and I can zow,<br> +And zometimes to the market go<br> +With Gaffer Johnson’s straw or hay,<br> +And yarn my ninepence every day!’<br> +<br> +‘Ninepence a-day will never do,<br> +For I must have silks and satins too!<br> +Ninepence a day won’t buy us meat!’<br> +‘Adzooks!’ says Dick, ‘I’ve a zack of wheat;<br> +<br> +‘Besides, I have a house hard by,<br> +’Tis all my awn, when mammy do die;<br> +If thee and I were married now,<br> +Ods! I’d feed thee as fat as my feyther’s old zow.’<br> +<br> +Dick’s compliments did so delight,<br> +They made the family laugh outright;<br> +Young Richard took huff, and no more would say,<br> +He kicked up old Dobbin, and trotted away,<br> +Singing, dumble dum deary, &c.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: WOOING SONG OF A YEOMAN OF KENT’S SONNE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The following song is the original of a well-known and popular Scottish +song:-<br> +<br> +‘I hae laid a herring in saut;<br> +Lass, ’gin ye lo’e me, tell me now!<br> +I ha’e brewed a forpit o’ maut,<br> +An’ I canna come ilka day to woo.’<br> +<br> +There are modern copies of our Kentish <i>Wooing Song</i>, but the present +version is taken from <i>Melismata, Musical phansies fitting</i> <i>the +court, citie, and countree. To</i> 3, 4, and <i>5 voyces</i>. +London, printed by William Stansby, for Thomas Adams, 1611. The +tune will be found in <i>Popular Music</i>, I., 90. The words +are in the Kentish dialect.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Ich have house and land in Kent,<br> +And if you’ll love me, love me now;<br> +Two-pence half-penny is my rent, -<br> +Ich cannot come every day to woo.<br> +<i>Chorus</i>. Two-pence half-penny is his rent,<br> +And he cannot come every day to woo.<br> +<br> +Ich am my vather’s eldest zonne,<br> +My mouther eke doth love me well!<br> +For Ich can bravely clout my shoone,<br> +And Ich full-well can ring a bell.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. For he can bravely clout his shoone,<br> +And he full well can ring a bell. <a name="citation33"></a><a href="#footnote33">{33}</a><br> +<br> +My vather he gave me a hogge,<br> +My mouther she gave me a zow;<br> +Ich have a god-vather dwells there by,<br> +And he on me bestowed a plow.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. He has a god-vather dwells there by,<br> +And he on him bestowed a plow.<br> +<br> +One time Ich gave thee a paper of pins,<br> +Anoder time a taudry lace;<br> +And if thou wilt not grant me love,<br> +In truth Ich die bevore thy vace.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. And if thou wilt not grant his love,<br> +In truth he’ll die bevore thy vace.<br> +<br> +Ich have been twice our Whitson Lord,<br> +Ich have had ladies many vare;<br> +And eke thou hast my heart in hold,<br> +And in my minde zeemes passing rare.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. And eke thou hast his heart in hold,<br> +And in his minde zeemes passing rare.<br> +<br> +Ich will put on my best white sloppe,<br> +And Ich will weare my yellow hose;<br> +And on my head a good gray hat,<br> +And in’t Ich sticke a lovely rose.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. And on his head a good grey hat,<br> +And in’t he’ll stick a lovely rose.<br> +<br> +Wherefore cease off, make no delay,<br> +And if you’ll love me, love me now;<br> +Or els Ich zeeke zome oder where, -<br> +For Ich cannot come every day to woo.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Or else he’ll zeeke zome oder where,<br> +For he cannot come every day to woo. <a name="citation34"></a><a href="#footnote34">{34}</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE CLOWN’S COURTSHIP.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This song, on the same subject as the preceding, is as old as the reign +of Henry VIII., the first verse, says Mr. Chappell, being found elaborately +set to music in a manuscript of that date. The air is given in +<i>Popular Music</i>, I., 87.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Quoth John to Joan, wilt thou have me?<br> +I prythee now, wilt? and I’ze marry with thee,<br> +My cow, my calf, my house, my rents,<br> +And all my lands and tenements:<br> +Oh, say, my Joan, will not that do?<br> +I cannot come every day to woo.<br> +<br> +I’ve corn and hay in the barn hard by,<br> +And three fat hogs pent up in the sty:<br> +I have a mare, and she is coal black,<br> +I ride on her tail to save my back.<br> +Then say, &c.<br> +<br> +I have a cheese upon the shelf,<br> +And I cannot eat it all myself;<br> +I’ve three good marks that lie in a rag,<br> +In the nook of the chimney, instead of a bag.<br> +Then say, &c.<br> +<br> +To marry I would have thy consent,<br> +But faith I never could compliment;<br> +I can say nought but ‘hoy, gee ho,’<br> +Words that belong to the cart and the plow.<br> +Then say, &c.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: HARRY’S COURTSHIP.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This old ditty, in its incidents, bears a resemblance to <i>Dumble-dum-deary</i>, +see <i>ante</i>, p. 149. It used to be a popular song in the Yorkshire +dales. We have been obliged to supply an <i>hiatus</i> in the +second verse, and to make an alteration in the last, where we have converted +the ‘red-nosed parson’ of the original into a squire.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Harry courted modest Mary,<br> +Mary was always brisk and airy;<br> +Harry was country neat as could be,<br> +But his words were rough, and his duds were muddy.<br> +<br> +Harry when he first bespoke her,<br> +[Kept a dandling the kitchen poker;]<br> +Mary spoke her words like Venus,<br> +But said, ‘There’s something I fear between us.<br> +<br> +‘Have you got cups of China mettle,<br> +Canister, cream-jug, tongs, or kettle?’<br> +‘Odzooks, I’ve bowls, and siles, and dishes,<br> +Enow to supply any prudent wishes.<br> +<br> +‘I’ve got none o’ your cups of Chaney,<br> +Canister, cream-jug, I’ve not any;<br> +I’ve a three-footed pot and a good brass kettle,<br> +Pray what do you want with your Chaney mettle?<br> +<br> +‘A shippen full of rye for to fother,<br> +A house full of goods, one mack or another;<br> +I’ll thrash in the lathe while you sit spinning,<br> +O, Molly, I think that’s a good beginning.’<br> +<br> +‘I’ll not sit at my wheel a-spinning,<br> +Or rise in the morn to wash your linen;<br> +I’ll lie in bed till the clock strikes eleven - ’<br> +‘Oh, grant me patience gracious Heaven!<br> +<br> +‘Why then thou must marry some red-nosed squire,<br> +[Who’ll buy thee a settle to sit by the fire,]<br> +For I’ll to Margery in the valley,<br> +She is my girl, so farewell Malley.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: HARVEST-HOME SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[Our copy of this song is taken from one in the Roxburgh Collection, +where it is called, <i>The Country Farmer’s vain glory; in</i> +<i>a new song of Harvest Home, sung to a new tune much in request</i>. +<i>Licensed according to order</i>. The tune is published in <i>Popular</i> +<i>Music</i>. A copy of this song, with the music, may be found +in D’Urfey’s <i>Pills to purge Melancholy</i>. It +varies from ours; but D’Urfey is so loose and inaccurate in his +texts, that any other version is more likely to be correct. The +broadside from which the following is copied was ‘Printed for +P. Brooksby, J. Dencon [Deacon], J. Blai[r], and J. Back.’]<br> +<br> +<br> +Our oats they are howed, and our barley’s reaped,<br> +Our hay is mowed, and our hovels heaped;<br> +Harvest home! harvest home!<br> +We’ll merrily roar out our harvest home!<br> +Harvest home! harvest home!<br> +We’ll merrily roar out our harvest home!<br> +We’ll merrily roar out our harvest home!<br> +<br> +We cheated the parson, we’ll cheat him again;<br> +For why should the vicar have one in ten?<br> +One in ten! one in ten!<br> +For why should the vicar have one in ten?<br> +For why should the vicar have one in ten?<br> +For staying while dinner is cold and hot,<br> +And pudding and dumpling’s burnt to pot;<br> +Burnt to pot! burnt to pot!<br> +Till pudding and dumpling’s burnt to pot,<br> +Burnt to pot! burnt to pot!<br> +<br> +We’ll drink off the liquor while we can stand,<br> +And hey for the honour of old England!<br> +Old England! old England!<br> +And hey for the honour of old England!<br> +Old England! old England!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: HARVEST-HOME.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[From an old copy without printer’s name or date.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Come, Roger and Nell,<br> +Come, Simpkin and Bell,<br> +Each lad with his lass hither come;<br> +With singing and dancing,<br> +And pleasure advancing,<br> +To celebrate harvest-home!<br> +<br> +<i>Chorus</i>. ’Tis Ceres bids play,<br> +And keep holiday,<br> +To celebrate harvest-home!<br> +Harvest-home!<br> +Harvest-home!<br> +To celebrate harvest-home!<br> +<br> +Our labour is o’er,<br> +Our barns, in full store,<br> +Now swell with rich gifts of the land;<br> +Let each man then take,<br> +For the prong and the rake,<br> +His can and his lass in his hand.<br> +For Ceres, &c.<br> +<br> +No courtier can be<br> +So happy as we,<br> +In innocence, pastime, and mirth;<br> +While thus we carouse,<br> +With our sweetheart or spouse,<br> +And rejoice o’er the fruits of the earth.<br> +For Ceres, &c.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE MOW. A HARVEST HOME SONG. Tune, <i>Where the +bee sucks.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +</i>[This favourite song, copied from a chap-book called <i>The Whistling +Ploughman</i>, published at the commencement of the present century, +is written in imitation of Ariel’s song, in the <i>Tempest</i>. +It is probably taken from some defunct ballad-opera.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Now our work’s done, thus we feast,<br> +After labour comes our rest;<br> +Joy shall reign in every breast,<br> +And right welcome is each guest:<br> +After harvest merrily,<br> +Merrily, merrily, will we sing now,<br> +After the harvest that heaps up the mow.<br> +<br> +Now the plowman he shall plow,<br> +And shall whistle as he go,<br> +Whether it be fair or blow,<br> +For another barley mow,<br> +O’er the furrow merrily:<br> +Merrily, merrily, will we sing now,<br> +After the harvest, the fruit of the plow.<br> +<br> +Toil and plenty, toil and ease,<br> +Still the husbandman he sees;<br> +Whether when the winter freeze,<br> +Or in summer’s gentle breeze;<br> +Still he labours merrily,<br> +Merrily, merrily, after the plow,<br> +He looks to the harvest, that gives us the mow.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE BARLEY-MOW SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This song is sung at country meetings in Devon and Cornwall, particularly +on completing the carrying of the barley, when the rick, or mow of barley, +is finished. On putting up the last sheaf, which is called the +craw (or crow) sheaf, the man who has it cries out ‘I have it, +I have it, I have it;’ another demands, ‘What have ’ee, +what have ’ee, what have ’ee?’ and the answer is, +‘A craw! a craw! a craw!’ upon which there is some cheering, +&c., and a supper afterwards. The effect of the <i>Barley-mow +Song</i> cannot be given in words; it should be heard, to be appreciated +properly, - particularly with the West-country dialect.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow, my brave boys,<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +We’ll drink it out of the jolly brown bowl,<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Here’s a health to the barley-mow, my brave +boys,<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +<br> +We’ll drink it out of the nipperkin, boys,<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +The nipperkin and the jolly brown bowl,<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Here’s a health, &c.<br> +<br> +We’ll drink it out of the quarter-pint, boys,<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +The quarter-pint, nipperkin, &c.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Here’s a health, &c.<br> +<br> +We’ll drink it out of the half-a-pint, boys,<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +The half-a-pint, quarter-pint, &c.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Here’s a health, &c.<br> +<br> +We’ll drink it out of the pint, my brave boys,<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +The pint, the half-a-pint, &c.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Here’s a health, &c.<br> +<br> +We’ll drink it out of the quart, my brave boys,<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +The quart, the pint, &c.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Here’s a health, &c.<br> +<br> +Well drink it out of the pottle, my boys,<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +The pottle, the quart, &c.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Here’s a health, &c.<br> +<br> +We’ll drink it out of the gallon, my boys,<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +The gallon, the pottle, &c.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Here’s a health, &c.<br> +<br> +We’ll drink it out of the half-anker, boys,<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +The half-anker, gallon, &c.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Here’s a health, &c.<br> +<br> +We’ll drink it out of the anker, my boys,<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +The anker, the half-anker, &c.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Here’s a health, &c.<br> +<br> +We’ll drink it out of the half-hogshead, boys,<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +The half-hogshead, anker, &c.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Here’s a health, &c.<br> +<br> +We’ll drink it out of the hogshead, my boys,<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +The hogshead, the half-hogshead, &c.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Here’s a health, &c.<br> +<br> +We’ll drink it out of the pipe, my brave boys,<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +The pipe, the hogshead, &c.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Here’s a health, &c.<br> +<br> +We’ll drink it out of the well, my brave boys,<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +The well, the pipe, &c.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Here’s a health, &c.<br> +<br> +We’ll drink it out of the river, my boys,<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +The river, the well, &c.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Here’s a health, &c.<br> +<br> +We’ll drink it out of the ocean, my boys,<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +The ocean, the river, the well, the pipe, the hogshead,<br> +the half-hogshead, the anker, the half-anker,<br> +the gallon, the pottle, the quart, the pint, the<br> +half-a-pint, the quarter-pint, the nipperkin, and<br> +the jolly brown bowl!<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Here’s a health to the barley-mow, my brave +boys!<br> +Here’s a health to the barley-mow!<br> +<br> +[The above verses are very much <i>ad libitum</i>, but always in the +third line repeating the whole of the previously-named measures; as +we have shown in the recapitulation at the close of the last verse.]<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE BARLEY-MOW SONG. (SUFFOLK VERSION.)<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The peasantry of Suffolk sing the following version of the <i>Barley-Mow +Song</i>.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Here’s a health to the barley mow!<br> +Here’s a health to the man<br> +Who very well can<br> +Both harrow and plow and sow!<br> +<br> +When it is well sown<br> +See it is well mown,<br> +Both raked and gavelled clean,<br> +And a barn to lay it in.<br> +He’s a health to the man<br> +Who very well can<br> +Both thrash and fan it clean!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE CRAVEN CHURN-SUPPER SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[In some of the more remote dales of Craven it is customary at the close +of the hay-harvest for the farmers to give an entertainment to their +men; this is called the churn supper; a name which Eugene Aram traces +to ‘the immemorial usage of producing at such suppers a great +quantity of cream in a churn, and circulating it in cups to each of +the rustic company, to be eaten with bread.’ At these churn-suppers +the masters and their families attend the entertainment, and share in +the general mirth. The men mask themselves, and dress in a grotesque +manner, and are allowed the privilege of playing harmless practical +jokes on their employers, &c. The churn-supper song varies +in different dales, but the following used to be the most popular version. +In the third verse there seems to be an allusion to the clergyman’s +taking tythe in kind, on which occasions he is generally accompanied +by two or three men, and the parish clerk. The song has never +before been printed. There is a marked resemblance between it +and a song of the date of 1650, called <i>A Cup of Old Stingo</i>. +See <i>Popular Music of the Olden Time</i>, I., 308.]<br> +<br> +<br> +God rest you, merry gentlemen!<br> +Be not movèd at my strain,<br> +For nothing study shall my brain,<br> +But for to make you laugh:<br> +For I came here to this feast,<br> +For to laugh, carouse, and jest,<br> +And welcome shall be every guest,<br> +To take his cup and quaff.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Be frolicsome, every one,<br> +Melancholy none;<br> +Drink about!<br> +See it out,<br> +And then we’ll all go home,<br> +And then we’ll all go home!<br> +<br> +This ale it is a gallant thing,<br> +It cheers the spirits of a king;<br> +It makes a dumb man strive to sing,<br> +Aye, and a beggar play!<br> +A cripple that is lame and halt,<br> +And scarce a mile a day can walk,<br> +When he feels the juice of malt,<br> +Will throw his crutch away.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Be frolicsome, &c.<br> +<br> +’Twill make the parson forget his men, -<br> +’Twill make his clerk forget his pen;<br> +’Twill turn a tailor’s giddy brain,<br> +And make him break his wand,<br> +The blacksmith loves it as his life, -<br> +It makes the tinkler bang his wife, -<br> +Aye, and the butcher seek his knife<br> +When he has it in his hand!<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Be frolicsome, &c.<br> +<br> +So now to conclude, my merry boys, all,<br> +Let’s with strong liquor take a fall,<br> +Although the weakest goes to the wall,<br> +The best is but a play!<br> +For water it concludes in noise,<br> +Good ale will cheer our hearts, brave boys;<br> +Then put it round with a cheerful voice,<br> +We meet not every day.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Be frolicsome, &c.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE RURAL DANCE ABOUT THE MAY-POLE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The most correct copy of this song is that given in <i>The Westminster +Drollery</i>, Part II. p. 80. It is there called <i>The Rural</i> +<i>Dance about the May-pole, the tune, the first</i>-<i>figure dance +at Mr</i>. <i>Young’s ball, May</i>, 1671. The tune is in +<i>Popular Music</i>. The <i>May-pole</i>, for so the song is +called in modern collections, is a very popular ditty at the present +time. The common copies vary considerably from the following version, +which is much more correct than any hitherto published.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Come, lasses and lads, take leave of your dads,<br> +And away to the may-pole hie;<br> +For every he has got him a she,<br> +And the minstrel’s standing by;<br> +For Willie has gotten his Jill,<br> +And Johnny has got his Joan,<br> +To jig it, jig it, jig it,<br> +Jig it up and down.<br> +<br> +‘Strike up,’ says Wat; ‘Agreed,’ says Kate,<br> +‘And I prithee, fiddler, play;’<br> +‘Content,’ says Hodge, and so says Madge,<br> +For this is a holiday.<br> +Then every man did put<br> +His hat off to his lass,<br> +And every girl did curchy,<br> +Curchy, curchy on the grass.<br> +<br> +‘Begin,’ says Hall; ‘Aye, aye,’ says Mall,<br> +‘We’ll lead up <i>Packington’s Pound</i>;’<br> +‘No, no,’ says Noll, and so says Doll,<br> +‘We’ll first have <i>Sellenger’s Round</i>.’ +<a name="citation35"></a><a href="#footnote35">{35}</a><br> +Then every man began<br> +To foot it round about;<br> +And every girl did jet it,<br> +Jet it, jet it, in and out.<br> +<br> +‘You’re out,’ says Dick; ‘’Tis a lie,’ +says Nick,<br> +‘The fiddler played it false;’<br> +‘’Tis true,’ says Hugh, and so says Sue,<br> +And so says nimble Alice.<br> +The fiddler then began<br> +To play the tune again;<br> +And every girl did trip it, trip it,<br> +Trip it to the men.<br> +<br> +‘Let’s kiss,’ says Jane, <a name="citation36"></a><a href="#footnote36">{36}</a> +‘Content,’ says Nan,<br> +And so says every she;<br> +‘How many?’ says Batt; ‘Why three,’ says Matt,<br> +‘For that’s a maiden’s fee.’<br> +But they, instead of three,<br> +Did give them half a score,<br> +And they in kindness gave ’em, gave ’em,<br> +Gave ’em as many more.<br> +<br> +Then after an hour, they went to a bower,<br> +And played for ale and cakes;<br> +And kisses, too; - until they were due,<br> +The lasses kept the stakes:<br> +The girls did then begin<br> +To quarrel with the men;<br> +And bid ’em take their kisses back,<br> +And give them their own again.<br> +<br> +Yet there they sate, until it was late,<br> +And tired the fiddler quite,<br> +With singing and playing, without any paying,<br> +From morning unto night:<br> +They told the fiddler then,<br> +They’d pay him for his play;<br> +And each a two-pence, two-pence,<br> +Gave him, and went away.<br> +<br> +‘Good night,’ says Harry; ‘Good night,’ says +Mary;<br> +‘Good night,’ says Dolly to John;<br> +‘Good night,’ says Sue; ‘Good night,’ says Hugh;<br> +‘Good night,’ says every one.<br> +Some walked, and some did run,<br> +Some loitered on the way;<br> +And bound themselves with love-knots, love-knots,<br> +To meet the next holiday.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE HITCHIN MAY-DAY SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The following song is sung by the Mayers at Hitchin in the county of +Herts. For an account of the manner in which May-day is observed +at Hitchin, see Hone’s <i>Every-Day Book</i>.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Remember us poor Mayers all!<br> +And thus do we begin<br> +To lead our lives in righteousness,<br> +Or else we die in sin.<br> +<br> +We have been rambling all the night,<br> +And almost all the day;<br> +And now returned back again,<br> +We have brought you a branch of May.<br> +<br> +A branch of May we have brought you,<br> +And at your door it stands;<br> +It is but a sprout,<br> +But it’s well budded out<br> +By the work of our Lord’s hand.<br> +<br> +The hedges and trees they are so green,<br> +As green as any leek;<br> +Our heavenly Father he watered them<br> +With his heavenly dew so sweet.<br> +<br> +The heavenly gates are open wide,<br> +Our paths are beaten plain;<br> +And if a man be not too far gone,<br> +He may return again.<br> +<br> +The life of man is but a span,<br> +It flourishes like a flower;<br> +We are here to-day, and gone to-morrow,<br> +And we are dead in an hour.<br> +<br> +The moon shines bright, and the stars give a light,<br> +A little before it is day;<br> +So God bless you all, both great and small,<br> +And send you a joyful May!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE HELSTONE FURRY-DAY SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[At Helstone, in Cornwall, the 8th of May is a day devoted to revelry +and gaiety. It is called the Furry-day, supposed to be a corruption +of Flora’s day, from the garlands worn and carried in procession +during the festival. <a name="citation37"></a><a href="#footnote37">{37}</a> +A writer in the <i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i> for June, 1790, says, +‘In the morning, very early, some troublesome rogues go round +the streets [of Helstone], with drums and other noisy instruments, disturbing +their sober neighbours, and singing parts of a song, the whole of which +nobody now re-collects, and of which I know no more than that there +is mention in it of the ‘grey goose quill,’ and of going +‘to the green wood’ to bring home ‘the Summer and +the May, O!’’ During the festival, the gentry, tradespeople, +servants, &c., dance through the streets, and thread through certain +of the houses to a very old dance tune, given in the appendix to Davies +Gilbert’s <i>Christmas Carols</i>, and which may also be found +in Chappell’s <i>Popular Music</i>, and other collections. +The <i>Furry-day Song</i> possesses no literary merit whatever; but +as a part of an old and really interesting festival, it is worthy of +preservation. The dance-tune has been confounded with that of +the song, but Mr. Sandys, to whom we are indebted for this communication, +observes that ‘the dance-tune is quite different.’]<br> +<br> +<br> +Robin Hood and Little John,<br> +They both are gone to the fair, O!<br> +And we will go to the merry green-wood,<br> +To see what they do there, O!<br> +And for to chase, O!<br> +To chase the buck and doe.<br> +With ha-lan-tow, rumble, O!<br> +For we were up as soon as any day, O!<br> +And for to fetch the summer home,<br> +The summer and the may, O!<br> +For summer is a-come, O!<br> +And winter is a-gone, O!<br> +<br> +Where are those Spaniards<br> +That make so great a boast, O?<br> +They shall eat the grey goose feather,<br> +And we will eat the roast, O!<br> +In every land, O!<br> +The land where’er we go.<br> +With ha-lan-tow, &c<br> +<br> +As for Saint George, O!<br> +Saint George he was a knight, O!<br> +Of all the knights in Christendom,<br> +Saint George is the right, O!<br> +In every land, O!<br> +The land where’er we go.<br> +With ha-lan-tow, &c.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: CORNISH MIDSUMMER BONFIRE SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The very ancient custom of lighting fires on Midsummer-eve, being the +vigil of St. John the Baptist, is still kept up in several parts of +Cornwall. On these occasions the fishermen and others dance about +the fires, and sing appropriate songs. The following has been +sung for a long series of years at Penzance and the neighbourhood, and +is taken down from the recitation of the leader of a West-country choir. +It is communicated to our pages by Mr. Sandys. The origin of the +Midsummer bonfires is fully explained in Brand’s <i>Popular Antiquities</i>. +See Sir H. Ellis’s edition of that work, vol. i. pp. 166-186.]<br> +<br> +<br> +The bonny month of June is crowned<br> +With the sweet scarlet rose;<br> +The groves and meadows all around<br> +With lovely pleasure flows.<br> +<br> +As I walked out to yonder green,<br> +One evening so fair;<br> +All where the fair maids may be seen<br> +Playing at the bonfire.<br> +<br> +Hail! lovely nymphs, be not too coy,<br> +But freely yield your charms;<br> +Let love inspire with mirth and joy,<br> +In Cupid’s lovely arms.<br> +<br> +Bright Luna spreads its light around,<br> +The gallants for to cheer;<br> +As they lay sporting on the ground,<br> +At the fair June bonfire.<br> +<br> +All on the pleasant dewy mead,<br> +They shared each other’s charms;<br> +Till Phoebus’ beams began to spread,<br> +And coming day alarms.<br> +<br> +Whilst larks and linnets sing so sweet,<br> +To cheer each lovely swain;<br> +Let each prove true unto their love,<br> +And so farewell the plain.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: SUFFOLK HARVEST-HOME SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[In no part of England are the harvest-homes kept up with greater spirit +than in Suffolk. The following old song is a general favourite +on such occasions.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Here’s a health unto our master,<br> +The founder of the feast!<br> +I wish, with all my heart and soul,<br> +In heaven he may find rest.<br> +I hope all things may prosper,<br> +That ever be takes in hand;<br> +For we are all his servants,<br> +And all at his command.<br> +<br> +Drink, boys, drink, and see you do not spill,<br> +For if you do, you must drink two, - it is your master’s will.<br> +<br> +Now our harvest is ended,<br> +And supper is past;<br> +Here’s our mistress’ good health,<br> +In a full flowing glass!<br> +She is a good woman, -<br> +She prepared us good cheer;<br> +Come, all my brave boys,<br> +And drink off your beer.<br> +<br> +Drink, my boys, drink till you come unto me,<br> +The longer we sit, my boys, the merrier shall we be!<br> +<br> +In yon green wood there lies an old fox,<br> +Close by his den you may catch him, or no;<br> +Ten thousand to one you catch him, or no.<br> +His beard and his brush are all of one colour, -<br> +[<i>Takes the glass and empties it off.<br> +</i>I am sorry, kind sir, that your glass is no fuller.<br> +’Tis down the red lane! ’tis down the red lane!<br> +So merrily hunt the fox down the red lane! <a name="citation38"></a><a href="#footnote38">{38}</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE HAYMAKER’S SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[An old and very favourite ditty sung in many parts of England at merry-makings, +especially at those which occur during the hay-harvest. It is +not in any collection.]<br> +<br> +<br> +In the merry month of June,<br> +In the prime time of the year;<br> +Down in yonder meadows<br> +There runs a river clear:<br> +And many a little fish<br> +Doth in that river play;<br> +And many a lad, and many a lass,<br> +Go abroad a-making hay.<br> +<br> +In come the jolly mowers,<br> +To mow the meadows down;<br> +With budget and with bottle<br> +Of ale, both stout and brown,<br> +All labouring men of courage bold<br> +Come here their strength to try;<br> +They sweat and blow, and cut and mow,<br> +For the grass cuts very dry.<br> +<br> +Here’s nimble Ben and Tom,<br> +With pitchfork, and with rake;<br> +Here’s Molly, Liz, and Susan,<br> +Come here their hay to make.<br> +While sweet, jug, jug, jug!<br> +The nightingale doth sing,<br> +From morning unto even-song,<br> +As they are hay-making.<br> +<br> +And when that bright day faded,<br> +And the sun was going down,<br> +There was a merry piper<br> +Approachèd from the town:<br> +He pulled out his pipe and tabor,<br> +So sweetly he did play,<br> +Which made all lay down their rakes,<br> +And leave off making hay.<br> +<br> +Then joining in a dance,<br> +They jig it o’er the green;<br> +Though tired with their labour,<br> +No one less was seen.<br> +But sporting like some fairies,<br> +Their dance they did pursue,<br> +In leading up, and casting off,<br> +Till morning was in view.<br> +<br> +And when that bright daylight,<br> +The morning it was come,<br> +They lay down and rested<br> +Till the rising of the sun:<br> +Till the rising of the sun,<br> +When the merry larks do sing,<br> +And each lad did rise and take his lass,<br> +And away to hay-making.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE SWORD-DANCERS’ SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[Sword-dancing is not so common in the North of England as it was a +few years ago; but a troop of rustic practitioners of the art may still +be occasionally met with at Christmas time, in some of the most secluded +of the Yorkshire dales. The following is a copy of the introductory +song, as it used to be sung by the Wharfdale sword-dancers. It +has been transcribed from a MS. in the possession of Mr. Holmes, surgeon, +at Grassington, in Craven. At the conclusion of the song a dance +ensues, and sometimes a rustic drama is performed. See post, p. +175. <i>Jumping Joan</i>, alluded to in the last verse, is a well-known +old country dance tune.]<br> +<br> +<i>The spectators being assembled, the</i> CLOWN<i> enters, and after +drawing a circle with his sword, walks round it, and calls in the actors +in the following lines, which are sung to the accompaniment of a violin +played outside, or behind the door.<br> +<br> +<br> +</i>The first that enters on the floor,<br> +His name is Captain Brown;<br> +I think he is as smart a youth<br> +As any in this town:<br> +In courting of the ladies gay,<br> +He fixes his delight;<br> +He will not stay from them all day,<br> +And is with them all the night.<br> +<br> +The next’s a tailor by his trade,<br> +Called Obadiah Trim;<br> +You may quickly guess, by his plain dress,<br> +And hat of broadest brim,<br> +That he is of the Quaking sect,<br> +Who would seem to act by merit<br> +Of yeas and nays, and hums and hahs,<br> +And motions of the spirit.<br> +<br> +The next that enters on the floor,<br> +He is a foppish knight;<br> +The first to be in modish dress,<br> +He studies day and night.<br> +Observe his habit round about, -<br> +Even from top to toe;<br> +The fashion late from France was brought, -<br> +He’s finer than a beau!<br> +<br> +Next I present unto your view<br> +A very worthy man;<br> +He is a vintner, by his trade,<br> +And Love-ale is his name.<br> +If gentlemen propose a glass,<br> +He seldom says ’em nay,<br> +But does always think it’s right to drink,<br> +While other people pay.<br> +<br> +The next that enters on the floor,<br> +It is my beauteous dame;<br> +Most dearly I do her adore,<br> +And Bridget is her name.<br> +At needlework she does excel<br> +All that e’er learnt to sew,<br> +And when I choose, she’ll ne’er refuse,<br> +What I command her do.<br> +<br> +And I myself am come long since,<br> +And Thomas is my name;<br> +Though some are pleased to call me Tom,<br> +I think they’re much to blame:<br> +Folks should not use their betters thus,<br> +But I value it not a groat,<br> +Though the tailors, too, that botching crew,<br> +Have patched it on my coat.<br> +<br> +I pray who’s this we’ve met with here,<br> +That tickles his trunk wame? <a name="citation39"></a><a href="#footnote39">{39}</a><br> +We’ve picked him up as here we came,<br> +And cannot learn his name:<br> +But sooner than he’s go without,<br> +I’ll call him my son Tom;<br> +And if he’ll play, be it night or day,<br> +We’ll dance you <i>Jumping Joan.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +</i>Ballad: THE SWORD-DANCERS’ SONG AND INTERLUDE. AS NOW +PERFORMED AT CHRISTMAS, IN THE COUNTY OF DURHAM.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The late Sir Cuthbert Sharp remarks, that ‘It is still the practice +during the Christmas holidays for companies of fifteen to perform a +sort of play or dance, accompanied by song or music.’ The +following version of the song, or interlude, has been transcribed from +Sir C. Sharp’s <i>Bishoprick Garland</i>, corrected by collation +with a MS. copy recently remitted to the editor by a countryman of Durham. +The Devonshire peasants have a version almost identical with this, but +laths are used instead of swords, and a few different characters are +introduced to suit the locality. The pageant called <i>The Fool +Plough</i>, which consists of a number of sword-dancers dragging a plough +with music, was anciently observed in the North of England, not only +at Christmas time, but also in the beginning of Lent. Wallis thinks +that the <i>Sword Dance</i> is the antic dance, or chorus armatus of +the Romans. Brand supposes that it is a composition made up of +the gleaning of several obsolete customs anciently followed in England +and other countries. The Germans still practise the <i>Sword Dance</i> +at Christmas and Easter. We once witnessed a <i>Sword</i> <i>Dance</i> +in the Eifel mountains, which closely resembled our own, but no interlude, +or drama, was performed.]<br> +<br> +<br> +<i>Enter Dancers, decorated with swords and ribbons; the</i> CAPTAIN<i> +of the band wearing a cocked hat and a peacock’s feather in it +by way of cockade, and the</i> CLOWN<i>, or</i> ‘BESSY,’ +<i>who acts as treasurer, being decorated with a hairy cap and a fox’s +brush dependent.<br> +<br> +The</i> CAPTAIN<i> forms with his sword a circle, around which</i> <i>walks.<br> +<br> +The</i> BESSY<i> opens the proceedings by singing</i> -<br> +<br> +Good gentlemen all, to our captain take heed,<br> +And hear what he’s got for to sing;<br> +He’s lived among music these forty long year,<br> +And drunk of the elegant <a name="citation40"></a><a href="#footnote40">{40}</a> +spring.<br> +<br> +<i>The</i> CAPTAIN<i> then proceeds as follows, his song being accompanied +by a violin, generally played by the</i> BESSY -<br> +<br> +Six actors I have brought<br> +Who were ne’er on a stage before;<br> +But they will do their best,<br> +And they can do no more.<br> +<br> +The first that I call in<br> +He is a squire’s son;<br> +He’s like to lose his sweetheart<br> +Because he is too young.<br> +<br> +But though he is too young,<br> +He has money for to rove,<br> +And he will spend it all<br> +Before he’ll lose his love.<br> +<br> +<i>Chorus. Fal lal de ral, lal de dal, fal lal de ra ral da.<br> +<br> +Followed by a symphony on the fiddle, during which the introduced actor +walks round the circle.<br> +<br> +The</i> CAPTAIN<i> proceeds -<br> +<br> +</i>The next that I call in<br> +He is a tailor fine;<br> +What think you of his work?<br> +He made this coat of mine!<br> +<br> +<i>Here the</i> CAPTAIN<i> turns round and exhibits his coat, which, +of course, is ragged, and full of holes.<br> +<br> +</i>So comes good master Snip,<br> +His best respects to pay:<br> +He joins us in our trip<br> +To drive dull care away.<br> +<br> +<i>Chorus and symphony as above.<br> +Here the</i> TAILOR <i>walks</i> <i>round</i>, <i>accompanied by the</i> +SQUIRE’S SON<i>. This form is observed after each subsequent +introduction, all the new comers taking apart.<br> +<br> +</i>The next I do call in,<br> +The prodigal son is he;<br> +By spending of his gold<br> +He’s come to poverty.<br> +<br> +But though he all has spent,<br> +Again he’ll wield the plow,<br> +And sing right merrily<br> +As any of us now. <a name="citation41"></a><a href="#footnote41">{41}</a><br> +<br> +Next comes a skipper bold,<br> +He’ll do his part right weel -<br> +A clever blade I’m told<br> +As ever pozed a keel.<br> +<br> +He is a bonny lad,<br> +As you must understand;<br> +It’s he can dance on deck,<br> +And you’ll see him dance on land.<br> +<br> +To join us in this play<br> +Here comes a jolly dog,<br> +Who’s sober all the day -<br> +If he can get no grog.<br> +<br> +But though he likes his grog,<br> +As all his friends do say,<br> +He always likes it best<br> +When other people pay.<br> +<br> +Last I come in myself,<br> +The leader of this crew;<br> +And if you’d know my name,<br> +My name it is ‘True Blue.’<br> +<br> +<i>Here the</i> BESSY<i> gives an account of himself.<br> +<br> +</i>My mother was burnt for a witch,<br> +My father was hanged on a tree,<br> +And it’s because I’m a fool<br> +There’s nobody meddled wi’ me.<br> +<br> +<i>The dance now commences. It is an ingenious performance, and +the swords of the actors are placed in a variety of graceful positions, +so as to form stars, hearts, squares, circles, &c. &c. +The dance is so elaborate that it requires frequent rehearsals, a quick +eye, and a strict adherence to time and tune. Before it concludes, +grace and elegance have given place to disorder, and at last all the +actors are seen fighting. The</i> PARISH CLERGYMAN<i> rushes in +to prevent bloodshed, and receives a death-blow. While on the +ground, the actors walk round the body, and sing as follows, to a slow, +psalm-like tune:-<br> +<br> +</i>Alas! our parson’s dead,<br> +And on the ground is laid;<br> +Some of us will suffer for’t,<br> +Young men, I’m sore afraid.<br> +<br> +I’m sure ’twas none of me,<br> +I’m clear of <i>that</i> crime;<br> +’Twas him that follows me<br> +That drew his sword so fine.<br> +<br> +I’m sure it was <i>not</i> me,<br> +I’m clear of the fact;<br> +’Twas him that follows me<br> +That did this dreadful act.<br> +<br> +I’m sure ’twas none of me,<br> +Who say’t be villains all;<br> +For both my eyes were closed<br> +When this good priest did fall.<br> +<br> +<i>The</i> BESSY<i> sings -<br> +<br> +</i>Cheer up, cheer up, my bonny lads,<br> +And be of courage brave,<br> +We’ll take him to his church,<br> +And bury him in the grave.<br> +<br> +<i>The</i> CAPTAIN<i> speaks in a sort of recitative</i> -<br> +<br> +Oh, for a doctor,<br> +A ten pound doctor, oh.<br> +<br> +<i>Enter</i> DOCTOR.<br> +<br> +<i>Doctor</i>. Here I am, I.<br> +<i>Captain</i>. Doctor, what’s your fee?<br> +<i>Doctor</i>. Ten pounds is my fee!<br> +<br> +But nine pounds nineteen shillings eleven pence three farthings I will +take from thee.<br> +<br> +<i>The</i> <i>Bessy</i>. There’s ge-ne-ro-si-ty!<br> +<br> +<i>The</i> DOCTOR<i> sings</i> -<br> +<br> +I’m a doctor, a doctor rare,<br> +Who travels much at home;<br> +My famous pills they cure all ills,<br> +Past, present, and to come.<br> +<br> +My famous pills who’d be without,<br> +They cure the plague, the sickness <a name="citation42"></a><a href="#footnote42">{42}</a> +and gout,<br> +Anything but a love-sick maid;<br> +If <i>you’re</i> one, my dear, you’re beyond my aid!<br> +<br> +<i>Here the</i> DOCTOR<i> occasionally salutes one of the fair spectators; +he then takes out his snuff-box, which is always of very capacious dimensions +(a sort of miniature warming-pan), and empties the contents (flour or +meal) on the</i> CLERGYMAN’S<i> face, singing at the time -<br> +<br> +</i>Take a little of my nif-naf,<br> +Put it on your tif-taf;<br> +Parson rise up and preach again,<br> +The doctor says you are not slain.<br> +<br> +<i>The</i> CLERGYMAN<i> here sneezes several times, and gradually recovers, +and all shake him by the hand.<br> +<br> +The ceremony terminates by the</i> CAPTAIN<i> singing -<br> +<br> +</i>Our play is at an end,<br> +And now we’ll taste your cheer;<br> +We wish you a merry Christmas,<br> +And a happy new year.<br> +<i>The Bessy</i>. And your pockets full of brass,<br> +And your cellars full of beer!<br> +<br> +<i>A general dance concludes the play.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +</i>Ballad: THE MASKERS’ SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[In the Yorkshire dales the young men are in the habit of going about +at Christmas time in grotesque masks, and of performing in the farm-houses +a sort of rude drama, accompanied by singing and music. <a name="citation43"></a><a href="#footnote43">{43}</a> +The maskers have wooden swords, and the performance is an evening one. +The following version of their introductory song was taken down literally +from the recitation of a young besom-maker, now residing at Linton in +Craven, who for some years past has himself been one of these rustic +actors. From the allusion to the pace, or paschal-egg, it is evident +that the play was originally an Easter pageant, which, in consequence +of the decline of the gorgeous rites formerly connected with that season, +has been transferred to Christmas, the only festival which, in the rural +districts of Protestant England, is observed after the olden fashion. +The maskers generally consist of five characters, one of whom officiates +in the threefold capacity of clown, fiddler, and master of the ceremonies. +The custom of masking at Christmas is common to many parts of Europe, +and is observed with especial zest in the Swiss cantons, where the maskers +are all children, and the performances closely resemble those of England. +In Switzerland, however, more care is bestowed upon the costume, and +the songs are better sung.]<br> +<br> +<br> +<i>Enter</i> CLOWN, <i>who sings in a sort of chant, or recitative.<br> +<br> +</i>I open this door, I enter in,<br> +I hope your favour for to win;<br> +Whether we shall stand or fall,<br> +We do endeavour to please you all.<br> +<br> +A room! a room! a gallant room,<br> +A room to let us ride!<br> +We are not of the raggald sort,<br> +But of the royal tribe:<br> +Stir up the fire, and make a light,<br> +To see the bloody act to-night!<br> +<br> +<i>Here another of the party introduces his companions by singing</i> +<i>to a violin accompaniment, as follows</i>:<br> +<br> +Here’s two or three jolly boys, all in one mind;<br> +We’ve come a pace-egging, <a name="citation44"></a><a href="#footnote44">{44}</a> +I hope you’ll prove kind:<br> +I hope you’ll prove kind with your money and beer,<br> +We shall come no more near you until the next year.<br> +Fal de ral, lal de lal, &c.<br> +<br> +The first that steps up is Lord [Nelson] <a name="citation45"></a><a href="#footnote45">{45}</a> +you’ll see,<br> +With a bunch of blue ribbons tied down to his knee;<br> +With a star on his breast, like silver doth shine;<br> +I hope you’ll remember this pace-egging time.<br> +Fal de ral, &c.<br> +<br> +O! the next that steps up is a jolly Jack tar,<br> +He sailed with Lord [Nelson], during last war:<br> +He’s right on the sea, Old England to view:<br> +He’s come a pace-egging with so jolly a crew.<br> +Fal de ral, &c.<br> +<br> +O! the next that steps up is old Toss-Pot, you’ll see,<br> +He’s a valiant old man, in every degree,<br> +He’s a valiant old man, and he wears a pig-tail;<br> +And all his delight is drinking mulled ale.<br> +Fal de ral, &c.<br> +<br> +O! the next that steps up is old Miser, you’ll see;<br> +She heaps up her white and her yellow money;<br> +She wears her old rags till she starves and she begs;<br> +And she’s come here to ask for a dish of pace eggs.<br> +Fal de ral, &a<br> +<br> +<i>The characters being thus duly introduced, the following lines are</i> +<i>sung in chorus by all the party.<br> +<br> +</i>Gentlemen and ladies, that sit by the fire,<br> +Put your hand in your pocket, ’tis all we desire;<br> +Put your hand in your pocket, and pull out your purse,<br> +And give us a trifle, - you’ll not be much worse.<br> +<br> +<i>Here follows a dance, and this is generally succeeded by a dialogue +of an</i> ad libitum <i>character, which varies in different districts, +being sometimes similar to the one performed by the sword-dancers.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +</i>Ballad: GLOUCESTERSHIRE WASSAILERS’ SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[It is still customary in many parts of England to hand round the wassail, +or health-bowl, on New-Year’s Eve. The custom is supposed +to be of Saxon origin, and to be derived from one of the observances +of the Feast of Yule. The tune of this song is given in <i>Popular +Music</i>. It is a universal favourite in Gloucestershire, particularly +in the neighbourhood of<br> +<br> +‘Stair on the wold,<br> +Where the winds blow cold,’<br> +<br> +as the old rhyme says.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Wassail! wassail! all over the town,<br> +Our toast it is white, and our ale it is brown;<br> +Our bowl is made of a maplin tree;<br> +We be good fellows all; - I drink to thee.<br> +<br> +Here’s to our horse, <a name="citation46"></a><a href="#footnote46">{46}</a> +and to his right ear,<br> +God send our measter a happy new year:<br> +A happy new year as e’er he did see, -<br> +With my wassailing bowl I drink to thee.<br> +<br> +Here’s to our mare, and to her right eye,<br> +God send our mistress a good Christmas pie;<br> +A good Christmas pie as e’er I did see, -<br> +With my wassailing bowl I drink to thee.<br> +<br> +Here’s to our cow, and to her long tail,<br> +God send our measter us never may fail<br> +Of a cup of good beer: I pray you draw near,<br> +And our jolly wassail it’s then you shall hear.<br> +<br> +Be here any maids? I suppose here be some;<br> +Sure they will not let young men stand on the cold stone!<br> +Sing hey O, maids! come trole back the pin,<br> +And the fairest maid in the house let us all in.<br> +<br> +Come, butler, come, bring us a bowl of the best;<br> +I hope your soul in heaven will rest;<br> +But if you do bring us a bowl of the small,<br> +Then down fall butler, and bowl and all.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE MUMMERS’ SONG; OR, THE POOR OLD HORSE.<br> +<br> +As sung by the Mummers in the Neighbourhood of Richmond, Yorkshire, +at the merrie time of Christmas.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The rustic actor who sings the following song is dressed as an old +horse, and at the end of every verse the jaws are snapped in chorus. +It is a very old composition, and is now printed for the first time. +The ‘old horse’ is, probably, of Scandinavian origin, - +a reminiscence of Odin’s Sleipnor.]<br> +<br> +<br> +You gentlemen and sportsmen,<br> +And men of courage bold,<br> +All you that’s got a good horse,<br> +Take care of him when he is old;<br> +Then put him in your stable,<br> +And keep him there so warm;<br> +Give him good corn and hay,<br> +Pray let him take no harm.<br> +Poor old horse! poor old horse!<br> +<br> +Once I had my clothing<br> +Of linsey-woolsey fine,<br> +My tail and mane of length,<br> +And my body it did shine;<br> +But now I’m growing old,<br> +And my nature does decay,<br> +My master frowns upon me,<br> +These words I heard him say, -<br> +Poor old horse! poor old horse!<br> +<br> +These pretty little shoulders,<br> +That once were plump and round,<br> +They are decayed and rotten, -<br> +I’m afraid they are not sound.<br> +Likewise these little nimble legs,<br> +That have run many miles,<br> +Over hedges, over ditches,<br> +Over valleys, gates, and stiles.<br> +Poor old horse! poor old horse!<br> +<br> +I used to be kept<br> +On the best corn and hay<br> +That in fields could be grown,<br> +Or in any meadows gay;<br> +But now, alas! it’s not so, -<br> +There’s no such food at all!<br> +I’m forced to nip the short grass<br> +That grows beneath your wall.<br> +Poor old horse! poor old horse!<br> +<br> +I used to be kept up<br> +All in a stable warm,<br> +To keep my tender body<br> +From any cold or harm;<br> +But now I’m turned out<br> +In the open fields to go,<br> +To face all kinds of weather,<br> +The wind, cold, frost, and snow.<br> +Poor old horse! poor old horse!<br> +<br> +My hide unto the huntsman<br> +So freely I would give,<br> +My body to the hounds,<br> +For I’d rather die than live:<br> +So shoot him, whip him, strip him,<br> +To the huntsman let him go;<br> +For he’s neither fit to ride upon,<br> +Nor in any team to draw.<br> +Poor old horse! you must die!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: FRAGMENT OF THE HAGMENA SONG.<br> +<br> +As sung at Richmond, Yorkshire, on the eve of the New Year, by the Corporation +Pinder.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The custom of singing Hagmena songs is observed in different parts +of both England and Scotland. The origin of the term is a matter +of dispute. Some derive it from ‘au guy l’an neuf,’ +i.e., <i>to the misletoe this new year</i>, and a French Hagmena song +still in use seems to give some authority to such a derivation; others, +dissatisfied with a heathen source, find the term to be a corruption +of [Greek text which cannot be reproduced], i.e., <i>the holy month</i>. +The Hagmena songs are sometimes sung on Christmas Eve and a few of the +preceding nights, and sometimes, as at Richmond, on the eve of the new +year. For further information the reader is referred to Brand’s +<i>Popular Antiquities</i>, vol. i. 247-8, Sir H. Ellis’s edit. +1842.]<br> +<br> +<br> +To-night it is the New-year’s night, to-morrow is the day,<br> +And we are come for our right, and for our ray,<br> +As we used to do in old King Henry’s day.<br> +Sing, fellows, sing, Hagman-heigh.<br> +<br> +If you go to the bacon-flick, cut me a good bit;<br> +Cut, cut and low, beware of your maw;<br> +Cut, cut and round, beware of your thumb,<br> +That me and my merry men may have some,<br> +Sing, fellows, sing, Hagman-heigh.<br> +<br> +If you go to the black-ark, bring me X mark;<br> +Ten mark, ten pound, throw it down upon the ground,<br> +That me and my merry men may have some.<br> +Sing, fellows, sing, Hagman-heigh.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE GREENSIDE WAKES SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The wakes, feasts, or tides of the North of England, were originally +religious festivals in honour of the saints to whom the parish churches +were dedicated. But now-a-days, even in Catholic Lancashire, all +traces of their pristine character have departed, and the hymns and +prayers by which their observance was once hallowed have given place +to dancing and merry-making. At Greenside, near Manchester, during +the wakes, two persons, dressed in a grotesque manner, the one a male, +the other a female, appear in the village on horseback, with spinning-wheels +before them; and the following is the dialogue, or song, which they +sing on these occasions.]<br> +<br> +<br> +‘’Tis Greenside wakes, we’ve come to the town<br> +To show you some sport of great renown;<br> +And if my old wife will let me begin,<br> +I’ll show you how fast and how well I can spin.<br> +Tread the wheel, tread the wheel, den, don, dell O.’<br> +<br> +‘Thou brags of thyself, but I don’t think it true,<br> +For I will uphold thy faults are not a few;<br> +For when thou hast done, and spun very hard,<br> +Of this I’m well sure, thy work is ill marred.<br> +Tread the wheel, tread the wheel, den, don, dell O.’<br> +<br> +‘Thou’rt a saucy old jade, and pray hold thy tongue,<br> +Or I shall be thumping thee ere it be long;<br> +And if that I do, I shall make thee to rue,<br> +For I can have many a one as good as you.<br> +Tread the wheel, tread the wheel, dan, don, dell O.’<br> +<br> +‘What is it to me who you can have?<br> +I shall not be long ere I’m laid in my grave;<br> +And when I am dead you may find if you can,<br> +One that’ll spin as hard as I’ve done.<br> +Tread the wheel, tread the wheel, dan, don, dell O.’<br> +<br> +‘Come, come, my dear wife, here endeth my song,<br> +I hope it has pleased this numerous throng;<br> +But if it has missed, you need not to fear,<br> +We’ll do our endeavour to please them next year.<br> +Tread the wheel, tread the wheel, dan, don, dell O.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE SWEARING-IN SONG OR RHYME.<br> +<br> +As formerly sung or said at Highgate, in the county of Middlesex.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The proverb, ‘He has been sworn at Highgate,’ is more widely +circulated than understood. In its ordinary signification it is +applied to a ‘knowing’ fellow who is well acquainted with +the ‘good things,’ and always helps himself to the best; +and it has its origin in an old usage still kept up at Highgate, in +Middlesex. Grose, in his <i>Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar +Tongue</i>, London, 1785, says, -<br> +<br> +<br> +A ridiculous custom formerly prevailed at the public-houses of Highgate, +to administer a ludicrous oath to all the men of the middling rank who +stopped there. The party was sworn on a pair of horns fastened +on a stick; the substance of the oath was never to kiss the maid when +he could kiss the mistress, never to drink small beer when be could +get strong, with many other injunctions of the like kind to all of which +was added a saving clause - <i>Unless you like it best</i>! The +person administering the oath was always to be called father by the +juror, and he in return was to style him son, under the penalty of a +bottle.<br> +<br> +<br> +From this extract it is evident that in 1786 the custom was ancient, +and had somewhat fallen into desuetude. Hone’s <i>Year-Book</i> +contains a very complete account of the ceremony, with full particulars +of the mode in which the ‘swearing-in’ was then performed +in the ‘Fox under the Hill.’ Hone does not throw any +light on the origin of the practice, nor does he seem to have been aware +of its comparative antiquity. He treated the ceremony as a piece +of modern foolery, got up by some landlord for ‘the good of the +house,’ and adopted from the same interested motive by others +of the tribe. A subsequent correspondent of Mr. Hone, however, +points out the antiquity of the custom, and shows that it could be traced +back long before the year 1782, when it was introduced into a pantomime +called <i>Harlequin Teague; or, the Giant’s</i> <i>Causeway</i>, +which was performed at the Haymarket on Saturday, August 17, 1782. +One of the scenes was Highgate, where, in the ‘parlour’ +of a public house, the ceremony was performed. Mr. Hone’s +correspondent sends a copy of the old initiation song, which varies +considerably from our version, supplied to us in 1851 by a very old +man (an ostler) at Highgate. The reciter said that the <i>copy +of verses</i> was not often used now, as there was no landlord who could +sing, and gentlemen preferred the speech. He said, moreover, ‘that +the verses were not always alike - some said one way, and some another +- some made them long, and some <i>cut ’em short</i>.’<br> +<br> +Grose was in error when he supposed that the ceremony was confined to +the inferior classes, for even in his day such was not the case. +In subsequent times the oath has been frequently taken by people of +rank, and also by several persons of the highest literary and political +celebrity. An inspection of any one of the register-books will +show that the jurors have belonged to all sorts of classes, and that +amongst them the Harrovians have always made a conspicuous figure. +When the stage-coaches ceased to pass through the village in consequence +of the opening of railways, the custom declined, and was kept up only +at three houses, which were called the ‘original house,’ +the ‘old original,’ and the ‘real old original.’ +Two of the above houses have latterly ceased to hold courts, and the +custom is now confined to the ‘Fox under the Hill,’ where +the rite is celebrated with every attention to ancient forms and costume, +and for a fee which, in deference to modern notions of economy, is only +one shilling.<br> +<br> +Byron, in the first canto of <i>Childe Harold</i>, alludes to the custom +of Highgate:-<br> +<br> +<br> +Some o’er thy Thamis row the ribboned fair,<br> +Others along the safer turnpike fly;<br> +Some Richmond-hill ascend, some wend to Wara<br> +And many to the steep of Highgate hie.<br> +Ask ye, Boeotian shades! the reason why?<br> +<i>’Tis to the worship of the solemn horn,<br> +Grasped in the holy hand of mystery,<br> +In whose dread name both men and maids <a name="citation47"></a><a href="#footnote47">{47}</a> +are sworn,<br> +And consecrate the oath with draught, and dance till morn.<br> +<br> +</i>Canto I, stanza 70.]<br> +<br> +<br> +<i>Enter</i> LANDLORD<i>, dressed in a black gown and bands, and wearing +an antique-fashioned wig, followed by the</i> CLERK OF THE COURT<i>, +also in appropriate costume, and carrying the registry-book and the +horns.<br> +<br> +Landlord</i>. Do you wish to be sworn at Highgate?<br> +<i>Candidate</i>. I do, Father.<br> +<i>Clerk</i>. <i>Amen.<br> +<br> +The</i> LANDLORD<i> then sings, or says, as follows</i>:-<br> +<br> +Silence! O, yes! you are my son!<br> +Full to your old father turn, sir;<br> +This is an oath you may take as you run,<br> +So lay your hand thus on the horn, sir.<br> +<br> +<i>Here the</i> CANDIDATE<i> places his right hand on the horn.<br> +<br> +</i>You shall spend not with cheaters or cozeners your life,<br> +Nor waste it on profligate beauty;<br> +And when you are wedded be kind to your wife,<br> +And true to all petticoat duty.<br> +<br> +<i>The</i> CANDIDATE<i> says ‘I will,’ and kisses the horn +in obedience to the command of the</i> CLERK<i>, who exclaims in a loud +and solemn tone, ‘Kiss the horn, sir!’<br> +<br> +</i>And while you thus solemnly swear to be kind,<br> +And shield and protect from disaster,<br> +This part of your oath you must bear it in mind,<br> +That you, and not she, is the master.<br> +<br> +<i>Clerk</i>. ‘<i>Kiss the horn, sir</i>!’<br> +<br> +You shall pledge no man first when a woman is near,<br> +For neither ’tis proper nor right, sir;<br> +Nor, unless you prefer it, drink small for strong beer,<br> +Nor eat brown bread when you can get white, sir.<br> +<br> +<i>Clerk</i>. ‘<i>Kiss the horn, sir</i>!’<br> +<br> +You shall never drink brandy when wine you can get,<br> +Say when good port or sherry is handy;<br> +Unless that your taste on spirit is set,<br> +In which case - you <i>may</i>, sir, drink brandy!<br> +<br> +<i>Clerk</i>. ‘<i>Kiss the horn, sir</i>!’<br> +<br> +To kiss with the maid when the mistress is kind,<br> +Remember that you must be loth, sir;<br> +But if the maid’s fairest, your oath doesn’t bind, -<br> +Or you may, if you like it, kiss both, sir!<br> +<br> +<i>Clerk</i>. ‘<i>Kiss the horn, sir</i>!’<br> +<br> +Should you ever return, take this oath here again,<br> +Like a man of good sense, leal and true, sir;<br> +And be sure to bring with you some more merry men,<br> +That they on the horn may swear too, sir.<br> +<br> +<i>Landlord</i>. Now, sir, if you please, sign your name in that +book, and if you can’t write, make your mark, and the clerk of +the court will attest it.<br> +<br> +<i>Here one of the above requests is complied with.<br> +<br> +Landlord</i>. You will please pay half-a-crown for court fees, +and what you please to the clerk.<br> +<br> +<i>This necessary ceremony being gone through, the important business +terminates by the</i> LANDLORD<i> saying, ‘God bless the King +[or Queen] and the lord of the manor;’ to which the</i> CLERK<i> +responds, ‘Amen, amen!’<br> +<br> +N.B. The court fees are always returned in wines, spirits, or +porter, of which the Landlord and Clerk are invited to partake.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +</i>Ballad: FAIRLOP FAIR SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The following song is sung at Fairlop fair, one of the gayest of the +numerous saturnalia kept by the good citizens of London. The venerable +oak has disappeared; but the song is nevertheless song, and the curious +custom of riding through the fair, seated in boats, still continues +to be observed.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Come, come, my boys, with a hearty glee,<br> +To Fairlop fair, bear chorus with me;<br> +At Hainault forest is known very well,<br> +This famous oak has long bore the bell.<br> +<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Let music sound as the boat goes round,<br> +If we tumble on the ground, we’ll be merry, I’ll be bound;<br> +We will booze it away, dull care we will defy,<br> +And be happy on the first Friday in July.<br> +<br> +At Tainhall forest, Queen Anne she did ride,<br> +And beheld the beautiful oak by her side,<br> +And after viewing it from bottom to top,<br> +She said that her court should be at Fairlop.<br> +<br> +It is eight fathom round, spreads an acre of ground,<br> +They plastered it round to keep the tree sound.<br> +So we’ll booze it away, dull care we’ll defy,<br> +And be happy on the first Friday in July.<br> +<br> +About a century ago, as I have heard say,<br> +This fair it was kept by one Daniel Day,<br> +A hearty good fellow as ever could be,<br> +His coffin was made of a limb of the tree.<br> +<br> +With black-strap and perry he made his friends merry,<br> +All sorrow for to drown with brandy and sherry.<br> +So we’ll booze it away, dull care we’ll defy,<br> +And be happy on the first Friday in July.<br> +<br> +At Tainhall forest there stands a tree,<br> +And it has performed a wonderful bounty,<br> +It is surrounded by woods and plains,<br> +The merry little warblers chant their strains.<br> +<br> +So we’ll dance round the tree, and merry we will be,<br> +Every year we’ll agree the fair for to see;<br> +And we’ll booze it away, dull care we’ll defy,<br> +And be happy on the first Friday in July.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: AS TOM WAS A-WALKING. AN ANCIENT CORNISH SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This song, said to be translated from the Cornish, ‘was taken +down,’ says Mr. Sandys, ‘from the recital of a modern Corypheus, +or leader of a parish choir,’ who assigned to it a very remote, +but indefinite, antiquity.]<br> +<br> +<br> +As Tom was a-walking one fine summer’s morn,<br> +When the dazies and goldcups the fields did adorn;<br> +He met Cozen Mal, with a tub on her head,<br> +Says Tom, ‘Cozen Mal, you might speak if you we’d.’<br> +<br> +But Mal stamped along, and appeared to be shy,<br> +And Tom singed out, ‘Zounds! I’ll knaw of thee why?’<br> +So back he tore a’ter, in a terrible fuss,<br> +And axed cozen Mal, ‘What’s the reason of thus?’<br> +<br> +‘Tom Treloar,’ cried out Mal, ‘I’ll nothing +do wi’ ’ee,<br> +Go to Fanny Trembaa, she do knaw how I’m shy;<br> +Tom, this here t’other daa, down the hill thee didst stap,<br> +And dab’d a great doat fig <a name="citation48"></a><a href="#footnote48">{48}</a> +in Fan Trembaa’s lap.’<br> +<br> +‘As for Fanny Trembaa, I ne’er taalked wi’ her twice,<br> +And gived her a doat fig, they are so very nice;<br> +So I’ll tell thee, I went to the fear t’other day,<br> +And the doat figs I boft, why I saved them away.’<br> +<br> +Says Mal, ‘Tom Treloar, ef that be the caase,<br> +May the Lord bless for ever that sweet pretty faace;<br> +Ef thee’st give me thy doat figs thee’st boft in the fear,<br> +I’ll swear to thee now, thee shu’st marry me here.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE MILLER AND HIS SONS.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[A miller, especially if he happen to be the owner of a soke-mill, has +always been deemed fair game for the village satirist. Of the +numerous songs written in ridicule of the calling of the ‘rogues +in grain,’ the following is one of the best and most popular: +its quaint humour will recommend it to our readers. For the tune, +see <i>Popular Music</i>.]<br> +<br> +<br> +There was a crafty miller, and he<br> +Had lusty sons, one, two, and three:<br> +He called them all, and asked their will,<br> +If that to them he left his mill.<br> +<br> +He called first to his eldest son,<br> +Saying, ‘My life is almost run;<br> +If I to you this mill do make,<br> +What toll do you intend to take?’<br> +<br> +‘Father,’ said he, ‘my name is Jack;<br> +Out of a bushel I’ll take a peck,<br> +From every bushel that I grind,<br> +That I may a good living find.’<br> +<br> +‘Thou art a fool!’ the old man said,<br> +‘Thou hast not well learned thy trade;<br> +This mill to thee I ne’er will give,<br> +For by such toll no man can live.’<br> +<br> +He called for his middlemost son,<br> +Saying, ‘My life is almost run;<br> +If I to you this mill do make,<br> +What toll do you intend to take?’<br> +<br> +‘Father,’ says he, ‘my name is Ralph;<br> +Out of a bushel I’ll take a half,<br> +From every bushel that I grind,<br> +That I may a good living find.’<br> +<br> +‘Thou art a fool!’ the old man said,<br> +‘Thou hast not well learned thy trade;<br> +This mill to thee I ne’er will give,<br> +For by such toll no man can live.’<br> +<br> +He called for his youngest son,<br> +Saying, ‘My life is almost run;<br> +If I to you this mill do make,<br> +What toll do you intend to take?’<br> +<br> +‘Father,’ said he, ‘I’m your only boy,<br> +For taking toll is all my joy!<br> +Before I will a good living lack,<br> +I’ll take it all, and forswear the sack!’<br> +<br> +‘Thou art my boy!’ the old man said,<br> +‘For thou hast right well learned thy trade;<br> +This mill to thee I give,’ he cried, -<br> +And then he turned up his toes and died.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: JACK AND TOM. AN OULD BORDER DITTIE. (TRADITIONAL.)<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The following song was taken down from recitation in 1847. Of +its history nothing is known; but we are strongly inclined to believe +that it may be assigned to the early part of the seventeenth century, +and that it relates to the visit of Prince Charles and Buckingham, under +the assumed names of Jack and Tom, to Spain, in 1623. Some curious +references to the adventures of the Prince and his companion, on their +masquerading tour, will be found in Halliwell’s <i>Letters of +the Kings of England</i>, vol. ii.]<br> +<br> +I’m a north countrie-man, in Redesdale born,<br> +Where our land lies lea, and grows ne corn, -<br> +And such two lads to my house never com,<br> +As them two lads called Jack and Tom!<br> +<br> +Now, Jack and Tom, they’re going to the sea;<br> +I wish them both in good companie!<br> +They’re going to seek their fortunes ayont the wide sea,<br> +Far, far away frae their oan countrie!<br> +<br> +They mounted their horses, and rode over the moor,<br> +Till they came to a house, when they rapped at the door;<br> +And out came Jockey, the hostler-man.<br> +‘D’ye brew ony ale? D’ye sell ony beer?<br> +Or have ye ony lodgings for strangers here?’<br> +<br> +‘Ne, we brew ne ale, nor we sell ne beer,<br> +Nor we have ne lodgings for strangers here.’<br> +So he bolted the door, and bade them begone,<br> +For there was ne lodgings there for poor Jack and Tom.<br> +<br> +They mounted their horses, and rode over the plain; -<br> +Dark was the night, and down fell the rain;<br> +Till a twinkling light they happened to spy,<br> +And a castle and a house they were close by.<br> +<br> +They rode up to the house, and they rapped at the door,<br> +And out came Jockey, the hosteler.<br> +‘D’ye brew ony ale? D’ye sell ony beer?<br> +Or have ye ony lodgings for strangers here?’<br> +<br> +‘Yes, we have brewed ale this fifty lang year,<br> +And we have got lodgings for strangers here.’<br> +So the roast to the fire, and the pot hung on,<br> +’Twas all to accommodate poor Jack and Tom.<br> +<br> +When supper was over, and all was <i>sided down,<br> +</i>The glasses of wine did go merrily roun’.<br> +‘Here is to thee, Jack, and here is to thee,<br> +And all the bonny lasses in our countrie!’<br> +‘Here is to thee, Tom, and here is to thee,<br> +And look they may <i>leuk</i> for thee and me!’<br> +<br> +’Twas early next morning, before the break of day,<br> +They mounted their horses, and so they rode away.<br> +Poor Jack, he died upon a far foreign shore,<br> +And Tom, he was never, never heard of more!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: JOAN’S ALE WAS NEW.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[Ours is the common version of this popular song; it varies considerably +from the one given by D’Urfey, in the <i>Pills to purge</i> <i>Melancholy</i>. +From the names of Nolly and Joan and the allusion to ale, we are inclined +to consider the song as a lampoon levelled at Cromwell, and his wife, +whom the Royalist party nick-named ‘Joan.’ The Protector’s +acquaintances (depicted as low and vulgar tradesmen) are here humorously +represented paying him a congratulatory visit on his change of fortune, +and regaling themselves with the ‘Brewer’s’ ale. +The song is mentioned in Thackeray’s Catalogue, under the title +of <i>Joan’s Ale’s New</i>; which may be regarded as circumstantial +evidence in favour of our hypothesis. The air is published in +<i>Popular Music</i>, accompanying three stanzas of a version copied +from the Douce collection. The first verse in Mr. Chappell’s +book runs as follows:-<br> +<br> +<br> +There was a jovial tinker,<br> +Who was a good ale drinker,<br> +He never was a shrinker,<br> +Believe me this is true;<br> +And he came from the Weald of Kent,<br> +When all his money was gone and spent,<br> +Which made him look like a Jack a-lent.<br> +And Joan’s ale is new, my boys,<br> +And Joan’s ale is new.]<br> +<br> +<br> +There were six jovial tradesmen,<br> +And they all sat down to drinking,<br> +For they were a jovial crew;<br> +They sat themselves down to be merry;<br> +And they called for a bottle of sherry,<br> +You’re welcome as the hills, says Nolly,<br> +While Joan’s ale is new, brave boys,<br> +While Joan’s ale is new.<br> +<br> +The first that came in was a soldier,<br> +With his firelock over his shoulder,<br> +Sure no one could be bolder,<br> +And a long broad-sword he drew:<br> +He swore he would fight for England’s ground,<br> +Before the nation should be run down;<br> +He boldly drank their healths all round,<br> +While Joan’s ale was new.<br> +<br> +The next that came in was a hatter,<br> +Sure no one could be blacker,<br> +And he began to chatter,<br> +Among the jovial crew:<br> +He threw his hat upon the ground,<br> +And swore every man should spend his pound,<br> +And boldly drank their hearths all round,<br> +While Joan’s ale was new.<br> +<br> +The next that came in was a dyer,<br> +And he sat himself down by the fire,<br> +For it was his heart’s desire<br> +To drink with the jovial crew:<br> +He told the landlord to his face,<br> +The chimney-corner should be his place,<br> +And there he’d sit and dye his face,<br> +While Joan’s ale was new.<br> +<br> +The next that came in was a tinker,<br> +And he was no small beer drinker,<br> +And he was no strong ale shrinker,<br> +Among the jovial crew:<br> +For his brass nails were made of metal,<br> +And he swore he’d go and mend a kettle,<br> +Good heart, how his hammer and nails did rattle,<br> +When Joan’s ale was new!<br> +<br> +The next that came in was a tailor,<br> +With his bodkin, shears, and thimble,<br> +He swore he would be nimble<br> +Among the jovial crew:<br> +They sat and they called for ale so stout,<br> +Till the poor tailor was almost broke,<br> +And was forced to go and pawn his coat,<br> +While Joan’s ale was new.<br> +<br> +The next that came in was a ragman,<br> +With his rag-bag over his shoulder,<br> +Sure no one could be bolder<br> +Among the jovial crew.<br> +They sat and called for pots and glasses,<br> +Till they were all drunk as asses,<br> +And burnt the old ragman’s bag to ashes,<br> +While Joan’s ale was new.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: GEORGE RIDLER’S OVEN.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This ancient Gloucestershire song has been sung at the annual dinners +of the Gloucestershire Society, from the earliest period of the existence +of that institution; and in 1776 there was an Harmonic Society at Cirencester, +which always opened its meetings with <i>George Ridler’s Oven</i> +in full chorus.<br> +<br> +The substance of the following key to this very curious song is furnished +by Mr. H. Gingell, who extracts it from the <i>Annual Report of the +Gloucestershire Society</i> for 1835. The annual meeting of this +Society is held at Bristol in the month of August, when the members +dine, and a branch meeting, which was formerly held at the Crown and +Anchor in the Strand, is now annually held at the Thatched House Tavern, +St. James’s. <i>George Ridler’s Oven</i> is sung at +both meetings, and the late Duke of Beaufort used to lead off the glee +in capital style. The words have a secret meaning, well known +to the members of the Gloucestershire Society, which was founded in +1657, three years before the Restoration of Charles II. The Society +consisted of Royalists, who combined together for the purpose of restoring +the Stuarts. The Cavalier party was supported by all the old Roman +Catholic families of the kingdom; and some of the Dissenters, who were +disgusted with Cromwell, occasionally lent them a kind of passive aid.<br> +<br> +<i>First Verse</i>. - By ‘George Ridler’ is meant King Charles +I. The ‘oven’ was the Cavalier party. The ‘stwons’ +that ‘built the oven,’ and that ‘came out of the Bleakney +quaar,’ were the immediate followers of the Marquis of Worcester, +who held out long and steadfastly for the Royal cause at Raglan Castle, +which was not surrendered till 1646, and was in fact the last stronghold +retained for the King. ‘His head did grow above his hair,’ +is an allusion to the crown, the head of the State, which the King wore +‘above his hair.’<br> +<br> +<i>Second Verse</i>. - This means that the King, ‘before he died,’ +boasted that notwithstanding his present adversity, the ancient constitution +of the kingdom was so good, and its vitality so great, that it would +surpass and outlive every other form of government.<br> +<br> +<i>Third Verse</i>. - ‘Dick the treble, Jack the mean, and George +the bass,’ mean King, Lords, and Commons. The injunction +to ‘let every man sing in his own place,’ is a warning to +each of the three estates of the realm to preserve its proper position, +and not to encroach on each other’s prerogative.<br> +<br> +<i>Fourth Verse</i>. - ‘Mine hostess’s maid’ is an +allusion to the Queen, who was a Roman Catholic, and her maid, the Church. +The singer we must suppose was one of the leaders of the party, and +his ‘dog’ a companion, or faithful official of the Society, +and the song was sung on occasions when the members met together socially; +and thus, as the Roman Catholics were Royalists, the allusion to the +mutual attachment between the ‘maid’ and ‘my dog and +I,’ is plain and consistent.<br> +<br> +<i>Fifth Verse</i>. - The ‘dog’ had a ‘trick of visiting +maids when they were sick.’ The meaning is, that when any +of the members were in distress or desponding, or likely to give up +the Royal cause in despair, the officials, or active members visited, +counselled, and assisted them.<br> +<br> +<i>Sixth Verse</i>. - The ‘dog’ was ‘good to catch +a hen,’ a ‘duck,’ or a ‘goose.’ - That +is, to enlist as members of the Society any who were well affected to +the Royal cause.<br> +<br> +<i>Seventh Verse</i>. - ‘The good ale tap’ is an allusion, +under cover of the similarity in sound between the words ale and aisle, +to the Church, of which it was dangerous at the time to be an avowed +follower; and so the members were cautioned that indiscretion might +lead to their discovery and ‘overthrow.’<br> +<br> +<i>Eighth Verse</i>. - The allusion here is to those unfaithful supporters +of the Royal cause, who ‘welcomed’ the members of the Society +when it appeared to be prospering, but ‘parted’ from them +in adversity.<br> +<br> +<i>Ninth Verse</i>. - An expression of the singer’s wish that +if he should die he may be buried with his faithful companion, as representing +the principles of the Society, under the good aisles of the church.<br> +<br> +The following text has been collated with a version published in <i>Notes +and Queries</i>, from the ‘fragments of a MS. found in the speech-house +of Dean.’ The tune is the same as that of the <i>Wassailers’ +Song</i>, and is printed in <i>Popular Music</i>. Other ditties +appear to have been founded on this ancient piece. The fourth, +seventh, and ninth verses are in the old ditty called <i>My Dog and +I</i>: and the eighth verse appears in another old song. The air +and words bear some resemblance to <i>Todlen Hame</i>.]<br> +<br> +<br> +The stwons that built George Ridler’s oven,<br> +And thauy keam vrom the Bleakney quaar,<br> +And George he wur a jolly old mon,<br> +And his yead it grow’d above his yare.<br> +<br> +One thing of George Ridler I must commend,<br> +And that wur vor a notable thing;<br> +He mead his brags avoore he died,<br> +Wi’ any dree brooders his zons zshould zing.<br> +<br> +There’s Dick the treble, and John the meean,<br> +(Let every mon zing in his auwn pleace,)<br> +And George he wur the elder brother,<br> +And therevoor he would zing the beass.<br> +<br> +Mine hostess’s moid, (and her neaum ‘twour Nell,)<br> +A pretty wench, and I lov’d her well;<br> +I lov’d her well, good reauzon why,<br> +Because zshe loved my dog and I.<br> +<br> +My dog is good to catch a hen;<br> +A dug or goose is vood for men;<br> +And where good company I spy<i>,<br> +</i>O thether gwoes my dog and I.<br> +<br> +My mwother told I, when I wur young,<br> +If I did vollow the strong-beer pwoot,<br> +That drenk would prov my awverdrow,<br> +And meauk me wear a threadbare cwoat.<br> +<br> +My dog has gotten zitch a trick,<br> +To visit moids when thauy be zick;<br> +When thauy be zick and like to die,<br> +O thether gwoes my dog and I.<br> +<br> +When I have dree zixpences under my thumb,<br> +O then I be welcome wherever I come;<br> +But when I have none, O, then I pass by, -<br> +’Tis poverty pearts good companie.<br> +<br> +If I should die, as it may hap,<br> +My greauve shall be under the good yeal tap;<br> +In voulded yarms there wool us lie,<br> +Cheek by jowl, my dog and I.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE CARRION CROW.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This still popular song is quoted by Grose in his <i>Olio</i>, where +it is made the subject of a burlesque commentary, the covert political +allusions having evidently escaped the penetration of the antiquary. +The reader familiar with the annals of the Commonwealth and the Restoration, +will readily detect the leading points of the allegory. The ‘Carrion +Crow’ in the oak is Charles II., who is represented as that bird +of voracious appetite, because he deprived the puritan clergy of their +livings; perhaps, also, because he ordered the bodies of the regicides +to be exhumed - as Ainsworth says in one of his ballads:-<br> +<br> +The carrion crow is a sexton bold,<br> +He raketh the dead from out of the mould.<br> +<br> +The religion of the ‘old sow,’ whoever she may be, is clearly +pointed out by her little pigs praying for her soul. The ‘tailor’ +is not easily identified. It is possibly intended for some puritan +divine of the name of Taylor, who wrote and preached against both prelacy +and papacy, but with an especial hatred of the latter. In the +last verse he consoles himself by the reflection that, notwithstanding +the deprivations, his party will have enough remaining from the voluntary +contributions of their adherents. The ‘cloak’ which +the tailor is engaged in cutting out, is the Genevan gown, or cloak; +the ‘spoon’ in which he desires his wife to bring treacle, +is apparently an allusion to the ‘spatula’ upon which the +wafer is placed in the administration of the Eucharist; and the introduction +of ‘chitterlings and black-puddings’ into the last verse +seems to refer to a passage in Rabelais, where the same dainties are +brought in to personify those who, in the matter of fasting, are opposed +to Romish practices. The song is found in collections of the time +of Charles II.]<br> +<br> +<br> +The carrion crow he sat upon an oak,<br> +And he spied an old tailor a cutting out a cloak.<br> +Heigho! the carrion crow.<br> +<br> +The carrion crow he began for to rave,<br> +And he called the tailor a lousy knave!<br> +Heigho! the carrion crow.<br> +<br> +‘Wife, go fetch me my arrow and my bow,<br> +I’ll have a shot at that carrion crow.’<br> +Heigho! the carrion crow.<br> +<br> +The tailor he shot, and he missed his mark,<br> +But he shot the old sow through the heart.<br> +Heigho! the carrion crow.<br> +<br> +‘Wife, go fetch me some treacle in a spoon,<br> +For the old sow’s in a terrible swoon!’<br> +Heigho! the carrion crow.<br> +<br> +The old sow died, and the bells they did toll,<br> +And the little pigs prayed for the old sow’s soul!<br> +Heigho! the carrion crow.<br> +<br> +‘Never mind,’ said the tailor, ‘I don’t care +a flea,<br> +There’ll be still black-puddings, souse, and chitterlings for +me.’<br> +Heigho! the carrion crow.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE LEATHERN BOTTEL. SOMERSETSHIRE VERSION.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[In Chappell’s <i>Popular Music</i> is a much longer version of +<i>The</i> <i>Leathern Bottèl</i>. The following copy is +the one sung at the present time by the country-people in the county +of Somerset. It has been communicated to our pages by Mr. Sandys.]<br> +<br> +<br> +God above, who rules all things,<br> +Monks and abbots, and beggars and kings,<br> +The ships that in the sea do swim,<br> +The earth, and all that is therein;<br> +Not forgetting the old cow’s hide,<br> +And everything else in the world beside:<br> +And I wish his soul in heaven may dwell,<br> +Who first invented this leathern bottèl!<br> +<br> +Oh! what do you say to the glasses fine?<br> +Oh! they shall have no praise of mine;<br> +Suppose a gentleman sends his man<br> +To fill them with liquor, as fast as he can,<br> +The man he falls, in coming away,<br> +And sheds the liquor so fine and gay;<br> +But had it been in the leathern bottèl,<br> +And the stopper been in, ‘twould all have been well!<br> +<br> +Oh! what do you say to the tankard fine?<br> +Oh! it shall have no praise of mine;<br> +Suppose a man and his wife fall out, -<br> +And such things happen sometimes, no doubt, -<br> +They pull and they haul; in the midst of the fray<br> +They shed the liquor so fine and gay;<br> +But had it been in the leathern bottèl,<br> +And the stopper been in, ’twould all have been well!<br> +<br> +Now, when this bottèl it is worn out,<br> +Out of its sides you may cut a clout;<br> +This you may hang upon a pin, -<br> +’Twill serve to put odd trifles in;<br> +Ink and soap, and candle-ends,<br> +For young beginners have need of such friends.<br> +And I wish his soul in heaven may dwell,<br> +Who first invented the leathern bottèl!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE FARMER’S OLD WIFE. A SUSSEX WHISTLING SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This is a countryman’s whistling song, and the only one of the +kind which we remember to have heard. It is very ancient, and +a great favourite. The farmer’s wife has an adventure somewhat +resembling the hero’s in the burlesque version of <i>Don Giovanni</i>. +The tune is <i>Lilli burlero</i>, and the song is sung as follows:- +the first line of each verse is given as a solo; then the tune is continued +by a chorus of whistlers, who whistle that portion of the air which +in <i>Lilli burlero</i> would be sung to the words, <i>Lilli burlero +bullen a la</i>. The songster then proceeds with the tune, and +sings the whole of the verse through, after which the strain is resumed +and concluded by the whistlers. The effect, when accompanied by +the strong whistles of a group of lusty countrymen, is very striking, +and cannot be adequately conveyed by description. This song constitutes +the ‘traditionary verses’ upon which Burns founded his <i>Carle +of Killyburn Braes</i>.]<br> +<br> +<br> +There was an old farmer in Sussex did dwell,<br> +<br> +[<i>Chorus of whistlers</i>.]<br> +<br> +There was an old farmer in Sussex did dwell,<br> +And he had a bad wife, as many knew well.<br> +<br> +[<i>Chorus of whistlers</i>.]<br> +<br> +Then Satan came to the old man at the plough, -<br> +‘One of your family I must have now.<br> +<br> +‘It is not your eldest son that I crave,<br> +But it is your old wife, and she I will have.’<br> +<br> +‘O, welcome! good Satan, with all my heart,<br> +I hope you and she will never more part.’<br> +<br> +Now Satan has got the old wife on his back,<br> +And he lugged her along, like a pedlar’s pack.<br> +<br> +He trudged away till they came to his hall-gate,<br> +Says he, ‘Here! take in an old Sussex chap’s mate!’<br> +<br> +O! then she did kick the young imps about, -<br> +Says one to the other, ‘Let’s try turn her out.’<br> +<br> +She spied thirteen imps all dancing in chains,<br> +She up with her pattens, and beat out their brains.<br> +<br> +She knocked the old Satan against the wall, -<br> +‘Let’s try turn her out, or she’ll murder us all!’<br> +<br> +Now he’s bundled her up on his back amain,<br> +And to her old husband he took her again.<br> +<br> +‘I have been a tormenter the whole of my life,<br> +But I ne’er was tormenter till I met with your wife.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: OLD WICHET AND HIS WIFE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This song still retains its popularity in the North of England, and, +when sung with humour, never fails to elicit roars of laughter. +A Scotch version may be found in Herd’s Collection, 1769, and +also in Cunningham’s <i>Songs of England and Scotland</i>, London, +1835. We cannot venture to give an opinion as to which is the +original; but the English set is of unquestionable antiquity. +Our copy was obtained from Yorkshire. It has been collated with +one printed at the Aldermary press, and preserved in the third volume +of the Roxburgh Collection. The tune is peculiar to the song.]<br> +<br> +<br> +O! I went into the stable, and there for to see, <a name="citation49"></a><a href="#footnote49">{49}</a><br> +And there I saw three horses stand, by one, by two, and by three;<br> +O! I called to my loving wife, and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth +she;<br> +‘O! what do these three horses here, without the leave of me?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, you old fool! blind fool! can’t you very well see,<br> +These are three milking cows my mother sent to me?’<br> +‘Ods bobs! well done! milking cows with saddles on!<br> +The like was never known!’<br> +Old Wichet a cuckold went out, and a cuckold he came home!<br> +<br> +O! I went into the kitchen, and there for to see,<br> +And there I saw three swords hang, by one, by two, quoth she;<br> +O! I called to my loving wife, and ‘Anon, kind sir!’<br> +‘O! what do these three swords do here, without the leave of me?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, you old fool! blind fool! can’t you very well see,<br> +These are three roasting spits my mother sent to me?’<br> +‘Ods bobs! well done! roasting spits with scabbards on!<br> +The like was never known!’<br> +Old Wichet a cuckold went out, and a cuckold he came home!<br> +<br> +O! I went into the parlour, and there for to see,<br> +And there I saw three cloaks hang, by one, by two, and by three;<br> +O! I called to my loving wife, and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth +she;<br> +‘O! what do these three cloaks do here, without the leave of me?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, you old fool! blind fool! can’t you very well see,<br> +These are three mantuas my mother sent to me?’<br> +‘Ods bobs! well done! mantuas with capes on!<br> +The like was never known!’<br> +Old Wichet a cuckold went out, and a cuckold he came home!<br> +<br> +O! I went into the pantry, and there for to see,<br> +And there I saw three pair of boots, <a name="citation50"></a><a href="#footnote50">{50}</a> +by one, by two, and by three;<br> +O! I called to my loving wife, and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth +she;<br> +‘O! what do these three pair of boots here, without the leave +of me?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, you old fool! blind fool! can’t you very well see,<br> +These are three pudding-bags my mother sent to me?’<br> +‘Ods bobs! well done! pudding-bags with spurs on!<br> +The like was never known!’<br> +Old Wichet a cuckold went out, and a cuckold he came home!<br> +<br> +O! I went into the dairy, and there for to see,<br> +And there I saw three hats hang, by one, by two, and by three;<br> +O! I called to my loving wife, and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth +she;<br> +‘Pray what do these three hats here, without the leave of me?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, you old fool! blind fool! can’t you very well see,<br> +These are three skimming-dishes my mother sent to me?’<br> +‘Ods bobs! well done! skimming-dishes with hat-bands on!<br> +The like was never known!’<br> +Old Wichet a cuckold went out, and a cuckold he came home!<br> +<br> +O! I went into the chamber, and there for to see,<br> +And there I saw three men in bed, by one, by two, and by three;<br> +O! I called to my loving wife, and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth +she;<br> +‘O! what do these three men here, without the leave of me?’<br> +<br> +‘Why, you old fool! blind fool! can’t you very well see,<br> +They are three milking-maids my mother sent to me?’<br> +‘Ods bobs! well done! milking-maids with beards on!<br> +The like was never known!’<br> +Old Wichet a cuckold went out, and a cuckold he came home!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE JOLLY WAGGONER.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This country song can be traced back a century at least, but is, no +doubt, much older. It is very popular in the West of England. +The words are spirited and characteristic. We may, perhaps, refer +the song to the days of transition, when the waggon displaced the packhorse.]<br> +<br> +<br> +When first I went a-waggoning, a-waggoning did go,<br> +I filled my parents’ hearts full of sorrow, grief, and woe. <a name="citation51"></a><a href="#footnote51">{51}</a><br> +And many are the hardships that I have since gone through.<br> +And sing wo, my lads, sing wo!<br> +Drive on my lads, I-ho! <a name="citation52"></a><a href="#footnote52">{52}</a><br> +And who wouldn’t lead the life of a jolly waggoner?<br> +<br> +It is a cold and stormy night, and I’m wet to the skin,<br> +I will bear it with contentment till I get unto the inn.<br> +And then I’ll get a drinking with the landlord and his kin.<br> +And sing, &c.<br> +<br> +Now summer it is coming, - what pleasure we shall see;<br> +The small birds are a-singing on every green tree,<br> +The blackbirds and the thrushes are a-whistling merrilie.<br> +And sing, &c.<br> +<br> +Now Michaelmas is coming, - what pleasure we shall find;<br> +It will make the gold to fly, my boys, like chaff before the wind;<br> +And every lad shall take his lass, so loving and so kind.<br> +And sing, &c.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE YORKSHIRE HORSE-DEALER.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This ludicrous and genuine Yorkshire song, the production of some unknown +country minstrel, obtained considerable popularity a few years ago from +the admirable singing of Emery. The incidents actually occurred +at the close of the last century, and some of the descendants of ‘Tommy +Towers’ were resident at Clapham till within a very recent period, +and used to take great delight in relating the laughable adventure of +their progenitor. Abey Muggins is understood to be a <i>sobriquet</i> +for a then Clapham innkeeper. The village of Clapham is in the +west of Yorkshire, on the high road between Skipton and Kendal.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Bane <a name="citation53"></a><a href="#footnote53">{53}</a> ta Claapam +town-gate <a name="citation54"></a><a href="#footnote54">{54}</a> lived +an ond Yorkshire tike,<br> +Who i’ dealing i’ horseflesh hed ne’er met his like;<br> +’Twor his pride that i’ aw the hard bargains he’d +hit,<br> +He’d bit a girt monny, but nivver bin bit.<br> +<br> +This ond Tommy Towers (bi that naam he wor knaan),<br> +Hed an oud carrion tit that wor sheer skin an’ baan;<br> +Ta hev killed him for t’ curs wad hev bin quite as well,<br> +But ’twor Tommy opinion <a name="citation55"></a><a href="#footnote55">{55}</a> +he’d dee on himsel!<br> +<br> +Well! yan Abey Muggins, a neighborin cheat,<br> +Thowt ta diddle ond Tommy wad be a girt treat;<br> +Hee’d a horse, too, ’twor war than ond Tommy’s, ye +see,<br> +Fort’ neet afore that hee’d thowt proper ta dee!<br> +<br> +Thinks Abey, t’ oud codger ‘ll nivver smoak t’ trick,<br> +I’ll swop wi’ him my poor deead horse for his wick, <a name="citation56"></a><a href="#footnote56">{56}</a><br> +An’ if Tommy I nobbut <a name="citation57"></a><a href="#footnote57">{57}</a> +can happen ta trap,<br> +’Twill be a fine feather i’ Aberram cap!<br> +<br> +Soa to Tommy he goas, an’ the question he pops:<br> +‘Betwin thy horse and mine, prithee, Tommy, what swops?<br> +What wilt gi’ me ta boot? for mine’s t’better horse +still!’<br> +‘Nout,’ says Tommy, ‘I’ll swop ivven hands, +an’ ye will.’<br> +<br> +Abey preaached a lang time about summat ta boot,<br> +Insistin’ that his war the liveliest brute;<br> +But Tommy stuck fast where he first had begun,<br> +Till Abey shook hands, and sed, ‘Well, Tommy, done!<br> +<br> +‘O! Tommy,’ sed Abey, ‘I’ze sorry for thee,<br> +I thowt thou’d a hadden mair white i’ thy ’ee;<br> +Good luck’s wi’ thy bargin, for my horse is deead.’<br> +‘Hey!’ says Tommy, ‘my lad, soa is min, an it’s +fleead?’<br> +<br> +Soa Tommy got t’ better of t’ bargin, a vast,<br> +An’ cam off wi’ a Yorkshireman’s triumph at last;<br> +For thof ’twixt deead horses there’s not mitch to choose,<br> +Yet Tommy war richer by t’ hide an’ fower shooes.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE KING AND THE COUNTRYMAN.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This popular favourite is a mere abridgment and alteration of a poem +preserved in the Roxburgh Collection, called <i>The King and Northern +Man, shewing how a poor Northumberland man (tenant to the King) being +wronged by a lawyer (his neighbour) went to the King himself to make +known his grievance. To the tune of Slut</i>. Printed by +and for Alex. Melbourne, at the Stationer’s Arms in Green Arbour +Court, in the Little Old Baily. The Percy Society printed <i>The +King and Northern Man</i> from an edition published in 1640. There +is also a copy preserved in the Bagford Collection, which is one of +the imprints of W. Onley. The edition of 1640 has the initials +of Martin Parker at the end, but, as Mr. Collier observes, ‘There +is little doubt that the story is much older than 1640.’ +See preface to Percy Society’s Edition.]<br> +<br> +<br> +There was an old chap in the west country,<br> +A flaw in the lease the lawyers had found,<br> +’Twas all about felling of five oak trees,<br> +And building a house upon his own ground.<br> +Right too looral, looral, looral - right too looral la!<br> +<br> +Now, this old chap to Lunnun would go,<br> +To tell the king a part of his woe,<br> +Likewise to tell him a part of his grief,<br> +In hopes the king would give him relief.<br> +<br> +Now, when this old chap to Lunnun had come,<br> +He found the king to Windsor had gone;<br> +But if he’d known he’d not been at home,<br> +He danged his buttons if ever he’d come.<br> +<br> +Now, when this old chap to Windsor did stump,<br> +The gates were barred, and all secure,<br> +But he knocked and thumped with his oaken clump,<br> +There’s room within for I to be sure.<br> +<br> +But when he got there, how he did stare,<br> +To see the yeomen strutting about;<br> +He scratched his head, and rubbed down his hair,<br> +In the ear of a noble he gave a great shout:<br> +<br> +‘Pray, Mr. Noble, show I the King;<br> +Is that the King that I see there?<br> +I seed an old chap at Bartlemy fair<br> +Look more like a king than that chap there.<br> +<br> +‘Well, Mr. King, pray how d’ye do?<br> +I gotten for you a bit of a job,<br> +Which if you’ll be so kind as to do,<br> +I gotten a summat for you in my fob.’<br> +<br> +The king he took the lease in hand,<br> +To sign it, too, he was likewise willing;<br> +And the old chap to make a little amends,<br> +He lugg’d out his bag, and gave him a shilling.<br> +<br> +The king, to carry on the joke,<br> +Ordered ten pounds to be paid down;<br> +The farmer he stared, but nothing spoke,<br> +And stared again, and he scratched his crown.<br> +<br> +The farmer he stared to see so much money,<br> +And to take it up he was likewise willing;<br> +But if he’d a known King had got so much money,<br> +He danged his wig if he’d gien him that shilling!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: JONE O’ GREENFIELD’S RAMBLE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The county of Lancaster has always been famed for its admirable <i>patois</i> +songs; but they are in general the productions of modern authors, and +consequently, however popular they may be, are not within the scope +of the present work. In the following humorous production, however, +we have a composition of the last century. It is the oldest and +most popular Lancashire song we have been able to procure; and, unlike +most pieces of its class, it is entirely free from grossness and vulgarity.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Says Jone to his wife, on a hot summer’s day,<br> +‘I’m resolved i’ Grinfilt no lunger to stay;<br> +For I’ll go to Owdham os fast os I can,<br> +So fare thee weel, Grinfilt, un fare thee weel, Nan;<br> +A soger I’ll be, un brave Owdham I’ll see,<br> +Un I’ll ha’e a battle wi’ th’ French.’<br> +<br> +‘Dear Jone,’ then said Nan, un hoo bitterly cried,<br> +Wilt be one o’ th’ foote, or tha meons to ride?’<br> +‘Odsounds! wench, I’ll ride oather ass or a mule,<br> +Ere I’ll kewer i’ Grinfilt os black as te dule,<br> +Booath clemmink <a name="citation58"></a><a href="#footnote58">{58}</a> +un starvink, un never a fardink,<br> +Ecod! it would drive ony mon mad.<br> +<br> +‘Aye, Jone, sin’ wi’ coom i’ Grinfilt for t’ +dwell,<br> +We’n had mony a bare meal, I con vara weel tell.’<br> +‘Bare meal! ecod! aye, that I vara weel know,<br> +There’s bin two days this wick ot we’n had nowt at o:<br> +I’m vara near sided, afore I’ll abide it,<br> +I’ll feight oather Spanish or French.’<br> +<br> +Then says my Aunt Marget, ‘Ah! Jone, thee’rt so hot,<br> +I’d ne’er go to Owdham, boh i’ Englond I’d stop.’<br> +‘It matters nowt, Madge, for to Owdham I’ll go,<br> +I’ll naw clam to deeoth, boh sumbry shalt know:<br> +Furst Frenchman I find, I’ll tell him meh mind,<br> +Un if he’ll naw feight, he shall run.’<br> +<br> +Then down th’ broo I coom, for we livent at top,<br> +I thowt I’d reach Owdharn ere ever I’d stop;<br> +Ecod! heaw they stared when I getten to th’ Mumps,<br> +Meh owd hat i’ my hond, un meh clogs full o’stumps;<br> +Boh I soon towd um, I’r gooink to Owdham,<br> +Un I’d ha’e battle wi’ th’ French.<br> +<br> +I kept eendway thro’ th’ lone, un to Owdham I went,<br> +I ask’d a recruit if te’d made up their keawnt?<br> +‘No, no, honest lad’ (for he tawked like a king),<br> +‘Go wi’ meh thro’ the street, un thee I will bring<br> +Where, if theaw’rt willink, theaw may ha’e a shillink.’<br> +Ecod! I thowt this wur rare news.<br> +<br> +He browt me to th’ pleck where te measurn their height,<br> +Un if they bin height, there’s nowt said about weight;<br> +I retched me, un stretched me, un never did flinch,<br> +Says th’ mon, ‘I believe theaw ’rt meh lad to an inch.’<br> +I thowt this’ll do, I’st ha’e guineas enow,<br> +Ecod! Owdham, brave Owdham for me.<br> +<br> +So fare thee weel, Grinfilt, a soger I’m made,<br> +I’n getten new shoon, un a rare cockade;<br> +I’ll feight for Owd Englond os hard os I con,<br> +Oather French, Dutch, or Spanish, to me it’s o one,<br> +I’ll make ’em to stare like a new-started hare,<br> +Un I’ll tell ’em fro’ Owdham I coom.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THORNEHAGH-MOOR WOODS. A CELEBRATED NOTTINGHAMSHIRE POACHER’S +SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[Nottinghamshire was, in the olden day, famous in song for the achievements +of Robin Hood and his merry men. In our times the reckless daring +of the heroes of the ‘greenwood tree’ has descended to the +poachers of the county, who have also found poets to proclaim and exult +over <i>their</i> lawless exploits; and in <i>Thornehagh-Moor Woods</i> +we have a specimen of one of these rude, but mischievous and exciting +lyrics. The air is beautiful, and of a lively character; and will +be found in <i>Popular Music</i>. There is it prevalent idea that +the song is not the production of an ordinary ballad-writer, but was +written about the middle of the last century by a gentleman of rank +and education, who, detesting the English game-laws, adopted a too successful +mode of inspiring the peasantry with a love of poaching. The song +finds locality in the village of Thornehagh, in the hundred of Newark. +The common, or Moor-fields, was inclosed about 1797, and is now no longer +called by the ancient designation. It contains eight hundred acres. +The manor of Thornehagh is the property of the ancient family of Nevile, +who have a residence on the estate.]<br> +<br> +<br> +In Thornehagh-Moor woods, in Nottinghamshire,<br> +Fol de rol, la re, right fol laddie, dee;<br> +In Robin Hood’s bold Nottinghamshire,<br> +Fol de rol, la re da;<br> +<br> +Three keepers’ houses stood three-square,<br> +And about a mile from each other they were; -<br> +Their orders were to look after the deer.<br> +Fol de rol, la re da.<br> +<br> +I went out with my dogs one night, -<br> +The moon shone clear, and the stars gave light;<br> +Over hedges and ditches, and steyls<br> +With my two dogs close at my heels,<br> +To catch a fine buck in Thornehagh-Moor fields.<br> +<br> +Oh! that night we had bad luck,<br> +One of my very best dogs was stuck;<br> +He came to me both breeding and lame, -<br> +Right sorry was I to see the same, -<br> +He was not able to follow the game.<br> +<br> +I searched his wounds, and found them slight,<br> +Some keeper has done this out of spite;<br> +But I’ll take my pike-staff, - that’s the plan!<br> +I’ll range the woods till I find the man,<br> +And I’ll tan his hide right well, - if I can!<br> +<br> +I ranged the woods and groves all night,<br> +I ranged the woods till it proved daylight;<br> +The very first thing that then I found,<br> +Was a good fat buck that lay dead on the ground;<br> +I knew my dogs gave him his death-wound.<br> +<br> +I hired a butcher to skin the game,<br> +Likewise another to sell the same;<br> +The very first buck he offered for sale,<br> +Was to an old [hag] that sold bad ale,<br> +And she sent us three poor lads to gaol.<br> +<br> +The quarter sessions we soon espied,<br> +At which we all were for to be tried;<br> +The Chairman laughed the matter to scorn,<br> +He said the old woman was all forsworn,<br> +And unto pieces she ought to be torn.<br> +<br> +The sessions are over, and we are clear!<br> +The sessions are over, and we sit here,<br> +Singing fol de rol, la re da!<br> +The very best game I ever did see,<br> +Is a buck or a deer, but a deer for me!<br> +In Thornehagh-Moor woods this night we’ll be!<br> +Fol de rol, la re da!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE LINCOLNSHIRE POACHER.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This very old ditty has been transformed into the dialects of Somersetshire, +Northamptonshire, and Leicestershire; but it properly belongs to Lincolnshire. +Nor is this the only liberty that his been taken with it. The +original tune is that of a Lancashire air, well known as <i>The Manchester +Angel</i>; but a florid modern tune has been substituted. <i>The +Lincolnshire Poacher</i> was a favourite ditty with George IV., and +it is said that he often had it sung for his amusement by a band of +Berkshire ploughmen. He also commanded it to be sung at his harvest-homes, +but we believe it was always on such occasions sung to the ‘playhouse +tune,’ and not to the genuine music. It is often very difficult +to trace the locality of countrymen’s songs, in consequence of +the licence adopted by printers of changing the names of places to suit +their own neighbourhoods; but there is no such difficulty about <i>The +Lincolnshire</i> <i>Poacher</i>. The oldest copy we have seen, +printed at York about 1776, reads ‘Lincolnshire,’ and it +is only in very modern copies that the venue is removed to other counties. +In the Somersetshire version the local vernacular is skilfully substituted +for that of the original; but the deception may, nevertheless, be very +easily detected.]<br> +<br> +<br> +When I was bound apprentice, in famous Lincolnsheer,<br> +Full well I served my master for more than seven year,<br> +Till I took up with poaching, as you shall quickly hear:-<br> +Oh! ’tis my delight of a shiny night, in the season of the year.<br> +<br> +As me and my comrades were setting of a snare,<br> +’Twas then we seed the gamekeeper - for him we did not care,<br> +For we can wrestle and fight, my boys, and jump o’er everywhere:-<br> +Oh! ’tis my delight of a shiny night, in the season of the year.<br> +<br> +As me and my comrades were setting four or five,<br> +And taking on him up again, we caught the hare alive;<br> +We caught the hare alive, my boys, and through the woods did steer:-<br> +Oh! ’tis my delight of a shiny night, in the season of the year.<br> +<br> +Bad luck to every magistrate that lives in Lincolnsheer; <a name="citation59"></a><a href="#footnote59">{59}</a><br> +Success to every poacher that wants to sell a hare;<br> +Bad luck to every gamekeeper that will not sell his deer:-<br> +Oh! ’tis my delight of a shiny night, in the season of the year.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: SOMERSETSHIRE HUNTING SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This following song, which is very popular with the peasantry of Somersetshire, +is given as a curious specimen of the dialect still spoken in some parts +of that county. Though the song is a genuine peasant’s ditty, +it is heard in other circles, and frequently roared out at hunting dinners. +It is here reprinted from a copy communicated by Mr. Sandys.]<br> +<br> +<br> +There’s no pleasures can compare<br> +Wi’ the hunting o’ the hare,<br> +In the morning, in the morning,<br> +In fine and pleasant weather.<br> +<br> +<i>Cho</i>. With our hosses and our hounds,<br> +We will scamps it o’er the grounds,<br> +And sing traro, huzza!<br> +And sing traro, huzza!<br> +And sing traro, brave boys, we will foller.<br> +<br> +And when poor puss arise,<br> +Then away from us she flies;<br> +And we’ll gives her, boys, we’ll gives her,<br> +One thundering and loud holler!<br> +<i>Cho</i>. With our hosses, &c.<br> +<br> +And when poor puss is killed,<br> +We’ll retires from the field;<br> +And we’ll count boys, and we’ll count<br> +On the same good ren to-morrer.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. With our bosses and our hounds, &c.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE TROTTING HORSE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The common copies of this old highwayman’s song are very corrupt. +We are indebted for the following version, which contains several emendations, +to Mr. W. H. Ainsworth. The song, which may probably be referred +to the age of Charles II., is a spirited specimen of its class.]<br> +<br> +<br> +I can sport as fine a trotting horse as any swell in town,<br> +To trot you fourteen miles an hour, I’ll bet you fifty crown;<br> +He is such a one to bend his knees, and tuck his haunches in,<br> +And throw the dust in people’s face, and think it not a sin.<br> +For to ride away, trot away,<br> +Ri, fa lar, la, &c.<br> +<br> +He has an eye like any hawk, a neck like any swan,<br> +A foot light as the stag’s, the while his back is scarce a span;<br> +Kind Nature hath so formed him, he is everything that’s good, +-<br> +Aye! everything a man could wish, in bottom, bone, and blood.<br> +For to ride away, &c.<br> +<br> +If you drop therein, he’ll nod his head, and boldly walk away,<br> +While others kick and bounce about, to him it’s only play;<br> +There never was a finer horse e’er went on English ground,<br> +He is rising six years old, and is all over right and sound.<br> +For to ride away, &c.<br> +<br> +If any frisk or milling match should call me out of town,<br> +I can pass the blades with white cockades, their whiskers hanging down;<br> +With large jack-towels round their necks, they think they’re first +and fast,<br> +But, with their gapers open wide, they find that they are last.<br> +Whilst I ride away, &c.<br> +<br> +If threescore miles I am from home, I darkness never mind,<br> +My friend is gone, and I am left, with pipe and pot behind;<br> +Up comes some saucy kiddy, a scampsman on the hot,<br> +But ere he pulls the trigger I am off just like a shot.<br> +For I ride away, &c.<br> +<br> +If Fortune e’er should fickle be, and wish to have again<br> +That which she so freely gave, I’d give it without pain;<br> +I would part with it most freely, and without the least remorse,<br> +Only grant to me what God hath gave, my mistress and my horse!<br> +That I may ride away, &c.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE SEEDS OF LOVE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This very curious old song is not only a favourite with our peasantry, +but, in consequence of having been introduced into the modern dramatic +entertainment of <i>The Loan of a Lover</i>, has obtained popularity +in higher circles. Its sweetly plaintive tune will be found in +<i>Popular Music</i>. The words are quaint, but by no means wanting +in beauty; they are, no doubt, corrupted, as we have derived them from +common broadsides, the only form in which we have been able to meet +with them. The author of the song was Mrs. Fleetwood Habergham, +of Habergham, in the county of Lancaster. ‘Ruined by the +extravagance, and disgraced by the vices of her husband, she soothed +her sorrows,’ says Dr. Whitaker, ‘by some stanzas yet remembered +among the old people of her neighbourhood.’ - <i>History of Whalley</i>. +Mrs. Habergham died in 1703, and was buried at Padiham.]<br> +<br> +<br> +I sowed the seeds of love, it was all in the spring,<br> +In April, May, and June, likewise, when small birds they do sing;<br> +My garden’s well planted with flowers everywhere,<br> +Yet I had not the liberty to choose for myself the flower that I loved +so dear.<br> +<br> +My gardener he stood by, I asked him to choose for me,<br> +He chose me the violet, the lily and pink, but those I refused all three;<br> +The violet I forsook, because it fades so soon,<br> +The lily and the pink I did o’erlook, and I vowed I’d stay +till June.<br> +<br> +In June there’s a red rose-bud, and that’s the flower for +me!<br> +But often have I plucked at the red rose-bud till I gained the willow-tree;<br> +The willow-tree will twist, and the willow-tree will twice, -<br> +O! I wish I was in the dear youth’s arms that once had the heart +of mine.<br> +<br> +My gardener he stood by, he told me to take great care,<br> +For in the middle of a red rose-bud there grows a sharp thorn there;<br> +I told him I’d take no care till I did feel the smart,<br> +And often I plucked at the red rose-bud till I pierced it to the heart.<br> +<br> +I’ll make me a posy of hyssop, - no other I can touch, -<br> +That all the world may plainly see I love one flower too much;<br> +My garden is run wild! where shall I plant anew -<br> +For my bed, that once was covered with thyme, is all overrun with rue? +<a name="citation60"></a><a href="#footnote60">{60}</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE GARDEN-GATE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[One of our most pleasing rural ditties. The air is very beautiful. +We first heard it sung in Malhamdale, Yorkshire, by Willy Bolton, an +old Dales’-minstrel, who accompanied himself on the union-pipes. +<a name="citation61"></a><a href="#footnote61">{61}</a>]<br> +<br> +<br> +The day was spent, the moon shone bright,<br> +The village clock struck eight;<br> +Young Mary hastened, with delight,<br> +Unto the garden-gate:<br> +But what was there that made her sad? -<br> +The gate was there, but not the lad,<br> +Which made poor Mary say and sigh,<br> +‘Was ever poor girl so sad as I?’<br> +<br> +She traced the garden here and there,<br> +The village clock struck nine;<br> +Which made poor Mary sigh, and say,<br> +‘You shan’t, you shan’t be mine!<br> +You promised to meet at the gate at eight,<br> +You ne’er shall keep me, nor make me wait,<br> +For I’ll let all such creatures see,<br> +They ne’er shall make a fool of me!’<br> +<br> +She traced the garden here and there,<br> +The village clock struck ten;<br> +Young William caught her in his arms,<br> +No more to part again:<br> +For he’d been to buy the ring that day,<br> +And O! he had been a long, long way; -<br> +Then, how could Mary cruel prove,<br> +To banish the lad she so dearly did love?<br> +<br> +Up with the morning sun they rose,<br> +To church they went away,<br> +And all the village joyful were,<br> +Upon their wedding-day:<br> +Now in a cot, by a river side,<br> +William and Mary both reside;<br> +And she blesses the night that she did wait<br> +For her absent swain, at the garden-gate.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE NEW-MOWN HAY.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This song is a village-version of an incident which occurred in the +Cecil family. The same English adventure has, strangely enough, +been made the subject of one of the most romantic of Moore’s <i>Irish</i> +<i>Melodies</i>, viz., <i>You remember Helen, the hamlet’s</i> +<i>pride</i>.]<br> +<br> +<br> +As I walked forth one summer’s morn,<br> +Hard by a river’s side,<br> +Where yellow cowslips did adorn<br> +The blushing field with pride;<br> +I spied a damsel on the grass,<br> +More blooming than the may;<br> +Her looks the Queen of Love surpassed,<br> +Among the new-mown hay.<br> +<br> +I said, ‘Good morning, pretty maid,<br> +How came you here so soon?’<br> +‘To keep my father’s sheep,’ she said,<br> +‘The thing that must be done:<br> +While they are feeding ‘mong the dew,<br> +To pass the time away,<br> +I sit me down to knit or sew,<br> +Among the new-mown hay.’<br> +<br> +Delighted with her simple tale,<br> +I sat down by her side;<br> +With vows of love I did prevail<br> +On her to be my bride:<br> +In strains of simple melody,<br> +She sung a rural lay;<br> +The little lambs stood listening by,<br> +Among the new-mown hay.<br> +<br> +Then to the church they went with speed,<br> +And Hymen joined them there;<br> +No more her ewes and lambs to feed,<br> +For she’s a lady fair:<br> +A lord he was that married her,<br> +To town they came straightway:<br> +She may bless the day he spied her there,<br> +Among the new-mown hay.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE PRAISE OF A DAIRY.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This excellent old country song, which can be traced to 1687, is sung +to the air of <i>Packington’s Pound</i>, for the history of which +see <i>Popular Music</i>.]<br> +<br> +<br> +In praise of a dairy I purpose to sing,<br> +But all things in order, first, God save the King! <a name="citation62"></a><a href="#footnote62">{62}</a><br> +And the Queen, I may say,<br> +That every May-day,<br> +Has many fair dairy-maids all fine and gay.<br> +Assist me, fair damsels, to finish my theme,<br> +Inspiring my fancy with strawberry cream.<br> +<br> +The first of fair dairy-maids, if you’ll believe,<br> +Was Adam’s own wife, our great grandmother Eve,<br> +Who oft milked a cow,<br> +As well she knew how.<br> +Though butter was not then as cheap as ’tis now,<br> +She hoarded no butter nor cheese on her shelves,<br> +For butter and cheese in those days made themselves.<br> +<br> +In that age or time there was no horrid money,<br> +Yet the children of Israel had both milk and honey;<br> +No Queen you could see,<br> +Of the highest degree,<br> +But would milk the brown cow with the meanest she.<br> +Their lambs gave them clothing, their cows gave them meat,<br> +And in plenty and peace all their joys wore complete.<br> +<br> +Amongst the rare virtues that milk does produce,<br> +For a thousand of dainties it’s daily in use:<br> +Now a pudding I’ll tell ’ee,<br> +And so can maid Nelly,<br> +Must have from good milk both the cream and the jelly:<br> +For a dainty fine pudding, without cream or milk,<br> +Is a citizen’s wife, without satin or silk.<br> +<br> +In the virtues of milk there is more to be mustered:<br> +O! the charming delights both of cheesecake and custard!<br> +If to wakes <a name="citation63"></a><a href="#footnote63">{63}</a> +you resort,<br> +You can have no sport,<br> +Unless you give custards and cheesecake too for’t:<br> +And what’s the jack-pudding that makes us to laugh,<br> +Unless he hath got a great custard to quaff?<br> +<br> +Both pancake and fritter of milk have good store,<br> +But a Devonshire white-pot must needs have much more;<br> +Of no brew <a name="citation64"></a><a href="#footnote64">{64}</a> you +can think,<br> +Though you study and wink,<br> +From the lusty sack posset to poor posset drink,<br> +But milk’s the ingredient, though wine’s <a name="citation65"></a><a href="#footnote65">{65}</a> +ne’er the worse,<br> +For ’tis wine makes the man, though ’tis milk makes the +nurse.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE MILK-MAID’S LIFE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[Of this popular country song there are a variety of versions. +The following, which is the most ancient, is transcribed from a black-letter +broadside in the Roxburgh Collection, entitled <i>The Milke-maid’s +Life; or, a pretty new ditty composed and penned, the</i> <i>praise +of the Milking-pail to defend</i>. To a curious new tune called +the <i>Milke-maid’s Dump</i>. It is subscribed with the +initials M. P.; probably those of Martin Parker.]<br> +<br> +<br> +You rural goddesses,<br> +That woods and fields possess,<br> +Assist me with your skill, that may direct my quill,<br> +More jocundly to express,<br> +The mirth and delight, both morning and night,<br> +On mountain or in dale,<br> +Of them who choose this trade to use,<br> +And, through cold dews, do never refuse<br> +To carry the milking-pail.<br> +<br> +The bravest lasses gay,<br> +Live not so merry as they;<br> +In honest civil sort they make each other sport,<br> +As they trudge on their way;<br> +Come fair or foul weather, they’re fearful of neither,<br> +Their courages never quail.<br> +In wet and dry, though winds be high,<br> +And dark’s the sky, they ne’er deny<br> +To carry the milking-pail.<br> +<br> +Their hearts are free from care,<br> +They never will despair;<br> +Whatever them befal, they bravely bear out all,<br> +And fortune’s frowns outdare.<br> +They pleasantly sing to welcome the spring,<br> +’Gainst heaven they never rail;<br> +If grass well grow, their thanks they show,<br> +And, frost or snow, they merrily go<br> +Along with the milking-pail:<br> +<br> +Base idleness they do scorn,<br> +They rise very early i’ th’ morn,<br> +And walk into the field, where pretty birds do yield<br> +Brave music on every thorn.<br> +The linnet and thrush do sing on each bush,<br> +And the dulcet nightingale<br> +Her note doth strain, by jocund vein,<br> +To entertain that worthy train,<br> +Which carry the milking-pail.<br> +<br> +Their labour doth health preserve,<br> +No doctor’s rules they observe,<br> +While others too nice in taking their advice,<br> +Look always as though they would starve.<br> +Their meat is digested, they ne’er are molested,<br> +No sickness doth them assail;<br> +Their time is spent in merriment,<br> +While limbs are lent, they are content,<br> +To carry the milking-pail.<br> +<br> +Upon the first of May,<br> +With garlands, fresh and gay,<br> +With mirth and music sweet, for such a season meet,<br> +They pass the time away.<br> +They dance away sorrow, and all the day thorough<br> +Their legs do never fail,<br> +For they nimbly their feet do ply,<br> +And bravely try the victory,<br> +In honour o’ the milking-pail.<br> +<br> +If any think that I<br> +Do practise flattery,<br> +In seeking thus to raise the merry milkmaids’ praise,<br> +I’ll to them thus reply:-<br> +It is their desert inviteth my art,<br> +To study this pleasant tale;<br> +In their defence, whose innocence,<br> +And providence, gets honest pence<br> +Out of the milking-pail.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE MILKING-PAIL.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The following is another version of the preceding ditty, and is the +one most commonly sung.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Ye nymphs and sylvan gods,<br> +That love green fields and woods,<br> +When spring newly-born herself does adorn,<br> +With flowers and blooming buds:<br> +Come sing in the praise, while flocks do graze,<br> +On yonder pleasant vale,<br> +Of those that choose to milk their ewes,<br> +And in cold dews, with clouted shoes,<br> +To carry the milking-pail.<br> +<br> +You goddess of the morn,<br> +With blushes you adorn,<br> +And take the fresh air, whilst linnets prepare<br> +A concert on each green thorn;<br> +The blackbird and thrush on every bush,<br> +And the charming nightingale,<br> +In merry vein, their throats do strain<br> +To entertain, the jolly train<br> +Of those of the milking-pail.<br> +<br> +When cold bleak winds do roar,<br> +And flowers will spring no more,<br> +The fields that were seen so pleasant and green,<br> +With winter all candied o’er,<br> +See now the town lass, with her white face,<br> +And her lips so deadly pale;<br> +But it is not so, with those that go<br> +Through frost and snow, with cheeks that glow,<br> +And carry the milking-pail.<br> +<br> +The country lad is free<br> +From fears and jealousy,<br> +Whilst upon the green he oft is seen,<br> +With his lass upon his knee.<br> +With kisses most sweet he doth her so treat,<br> +And swears her charms won’t fail;<br> +But the London lass, in every place,<br> +With brazen face, despises the grace<br> +Of those of the milking-pail.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE SUMMER’S MORNING.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This is a very old ditty, and a favourite with the peasantry in every +part of England; but more particularly in the mining districts of the +North. The tune is pleasing, but uncommon. R. W. Dixon, +Esq., of Seaton-Carew, Durham, by whom the song was communicated to +his brother for publication, says, ‘I have written down the above, +<i>verbatim</i>, as generally sung. It will be seen that the last +lines of each verse are not of equal length. The singer, however, +makes all right and smooth! The words underlined in each verse +are sung five times, thus:- <i>They ad-van-cèd, they ad-van-cèd, +they ad-van-cèd, they ad-van-cèd, they ad-van-cèd +me some money, - ten guineas and a crown</i>. The last line is +thus sung:- <i>We’ll be married</i>, (as the word is usually pronounced), +<i>We’ll be married, we’ll be married, we’ll be married</i>, +<i>we’ll be married, we’ll be mar-ri-èd when I return +again</i>.’ The tune is given in <i>Popular Music</i>. +Since this song appeared in the volume issued by the Percy Society, +we have met with a copy printed at Devonport. The readings are +in general not so good; but in one or two instances they are apparently +more ancient, and are, consequently, here adopted. The Devonport +copy contains two verses, not preserved in our traditional version. +These we have incorporated in our present text, in which they form the +third and last stanzas.]<br> +<br> +<br> +It was one summer’s morning, as I went o’er the moss,<br> +I had no thought of ’listing, till the soldiers did me cross;<br> +They kindly did invite me to a flowing bowl, and down,<br> +<i>They advancèd</i> me some money, - ten guineas and a crown.<br> +<br> +‘It’s true my love has listed, he wears a white cockade,<br> +He is a handsome tall young man, besides a roving blade;<br> +He is a handsome young man, and he’s gone to serve the king,<br> +<i>Oh! my very</i> heart is breaking for the loss of him.<br> +<br> +‘My love is tall and handsome, and comely for to see,<br> +And by a sad misfortune a soldier now is he;<br> +I hope the man that listed him may not prosper night nor day,<br> +<i>For I wish that</i> the Hollànders may sink him in the sea.<br> +<br> +‘Oh! may he never prosper, oh! may he never thrive,<br> +Nor anything he takes in hand so long as he’s alive;<br> +May the very grass he treads upon the ground refuse to grow,<br> +<i>Since he’s been</i> the only cause of my sorrow, grief, and +woe!’<br> +<br> +Then he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her flowing eyes, -<br> +‘Leave off those lamentations, likewise those mournful cries;<br> +Leave of your grief and sorrow, while I march o’er the plain,<br> +<i>We’ll be married</i> when I return again.’<br> +<br> +‘O now my love has listed, and I for him will rove,<br> +I’ll write his name on every tree that grows in yonder grove,<br> +Where the huntsman he does hollow, and the hounds do sweetly cry,<br> +<i>To remind</i> <i>me</i> of my ploughboy until the day I die.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: OLD ADAM.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[We have had considerable trouble in procuring a copy of this old song, +which used, in former days, to be very popular with aged people resident +in the North of England. It has been long out of print, and handed +down traditionally. By the kindness, however, of Mr. S. Swindells, +printer, Manchester, we have been favoured with an ancient printed copy, +which Mr. Swindells observes he had great difficulty in obtaining. +Some improvements have been made in the present edition from the recital +of Mr. Effingham Wilson, who was familiar with the song in his youth.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Both sexes give ear to my fancy,<br> +While in praise of dear woman I sing;<br> +Confined not to Moll, Sue, or Nancy,<br> +But mates from a beggar to king.<br> +<br> +When old Adam first was created,<br> +And lord of the universe crowned,<br> +His happiness was not completed,<br> +Until that an helpmate was found.<br> +<br> +He’d all things in food that were wanting<br> +To keep and support him through life;<br> +He’d horses and foxes for hunting,<br> +Which some men love better than wife.<br> +<br> +He’d a garden so planted by nature,<br> +Man cannot produce in his life;<br> +But yet the all-wise great Creator<br> +Still saw that he wanted a wife.<br> +<br> +Then Adam he laid in a slumber,<br> +And there he lost part of his side;<br> +And when he awoke, with a wonder,<br> +Beheld his most beautiful bride!<br> +<br> +In transport he gazèd upon her,<br> +His happiness now was complete!<br> +He praisèd his bountiful donor,<br> +Who thus had bestowed him a mate.<br> +<br> +She was not took out of his head, sir,<br> +To reign and triumph over man;<br> +Nor was she took out of his feet, sir,<br> +By man to be trampled upon.<br> +<br> +But she was took out of his side, sir,<br> +His equal and partner to be;<br> +But as they’re united in one, sir,<br> +The man is the top of the tree.<br> +<br> +Then let not the fair be despisèd<br> +By man, as she’s part of himself;<br> +For woman by Adam was prizèd<br> +More than the whole globe full of wealth.<br> +<br> +Man without a woman’s a beggar,<br> +Suppose the whole world he possessed;<br> +And the beggar that’s got a good woman,<br> +With more than the world he is blest.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: TOBACCO.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This song is a mere adaptation of <i>Smoking Spiritualized</i>; see +<i>ante</i>, p. 39. The earliest copy of the abridgment we have +been able to meet with, is published in D’Urfey’s <i>Pills +to purge Melancholy</i>, 1719; but whether we are indebted for it to +the author of the original poem, or to ‘that bright genius, Tom +D’Urfey,’ as Burns calls him, we are not able to determine. +The song has always been popular. The tune is in <i>Popular Music</i>.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Tobacco’s but an Indian weed,<br> +Grows green in the morn, cut down at eve;<br> +It shows our decay,<br> +We are but clay;<br> +Think of this when you smoke tobacco!<br> +<br> +The pipe that is so lily white,<br> +Wherein so many take delight,<br> +It’s broken with a touch, -<br> +Man’s life is such;<br> +Think of this when you take tobacco!<br> +<br> +The pipe that is so foul within,<br> +It shows man’s soul is stained with sin;<br> +It doth require<br> +To be purred with fire;<br> +Think of this when you smoke tobacco!<br> +<br> +The dust that from the pipe doth fall,<br> +It shows we are nothing but dust at all;<br> +For we came from the dust,<br> +And return we must;<br> +Think of this when you smoke tobacco!<br> +<br> +The ashes that are left behind,<br> +Do serve to put us all in mind<br> +That unto dust<br> +Return we must;<br> +Think of this when you take tobacco!<br> +<br> +The smoke that does so high ascend,<br> +Shows that man’s life must have an end;<br> +The vapour’s gone, -<br> +Man’s life is done;<br> +Think of this when you take tobacco!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE SPANISH LADIES.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This song is ancient, but we have no means of ascertaining at what +period it was written. Captain Marryat, in his novel of <i>Poor +Jack</i>, introduces it, and says it is <i>old</i>. It is a general +favourite. The air is plaintive, and in the minor key. See +<i>Popular Music</i>.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Farewell, and adieu to you Spanish ladies,<br> +Farewell, and adieu to you ladies of Spain!<br> +For we’ve received orders for to sail for old England,<br> +But we hope in a short time to see you again.<br> +<br> +We’ll rant and we’ll roar <a name="citation66"></a><a href="#footnote66">{66}</a> +like true British heroes,<br> +We’ll rant and we’ll roar across the salt seas,<br> +Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;<br> +From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.<br> +<br> +Then we hove our ship to, with the wind at sou’-west, boys,<br> +We hove our ship to, for to strike soundings clear;<br> +We got soundings in ninety-five fathom, and boldly<br> +Up the channel of old England our course we did steer.<br> +<br> +The first land we made it was callèd the Deadman,<br> +Next, Ram’shead off Plymouth, Start, Portland, and Wight;<br> +We passèd by Beachy, by Fairleigh, and Dungeness,<br> +And hove our ship to, off the South Foreland light.<br> +<br> +Then a signal was made for the grand fleet to anchor<br> +All in the Downs, that night for to sleep;<br> +Then stand by your stoppers, let go your shank-painters,<br> +Haul all your clew-garnets, stick out tacks and sheets.<br> +<br> +So let every man toss off a full bumper,<br> +Let every man toss off his full bowls;<br> +We’ll drink and be jolly, and drown melancholy,<br> +So here’s a good health to all true-hearted souls!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: HARRY THE TAILOR. (TRADITIONAL.)<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The following song was taken down some years ago from the recitation +of a country curate, who said he had learned it from a very old inhabitant +of Methley, near Pontefract, Yorkshire. We have never seen it +in print.]<br> +<br> +<br> +When Harry the tailor was twenty years old,<br> +He began for to look with courage so bold;<br> +He told his old mother he was not in jest,<br> +But he would have a wife as well as the rest.<br> +<br> +Then Harry next morning, before it was day,<br> +To the house of his fair maid took his way.<br> +He found his dear Dolly a making of cheese,<br> +Says he, ‘You must give me a buss, if you please!’<br> +<br> +She up with the bowl, the butter-milk flew,<br> +And Harry the tailor looked wonderful blue.<br> +‘O, Dolly, my dear, what hast thou done?<br> +From my back to my breeks has thy butter-milk run.’<br> +<br> +She gave him a push, he stumbled and fell<br> +Down from the dairy into the drawwell.<br> +Then Harry, the ploughboy, ran amain,<br> +And soon brought him up in the bucket again.<br> +<br> +Then Harry went home like a drowned rat,<br> +And told his old mother what he had been at.<br> +With butter-milk, bowl, and a terrible fall,<br> +O, if this be called love, may the devil take all!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: SIR ARTHUR AND CHARMING MOLLEE. (TRADITIONAL.)<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[For this old Northumbrian song we are indebted to Mr. Robert Chambers. +It was taken down from the recitation of a lady. The ‘Sir +Arthur’ is no less a personage than Sir Arthur Haslerigg, the +Governor of Tynemouth Castle during the Protectorate of Cromwell.]<br> +<br> +<br> +As noble Sir Arthur one morning did ride,<br> +With his hounds at his feet, and his sword by his side,<br> +He saw a fair maid sitting under a tree,<br> +He askèd her name, and she said ’twas Mollee.<br> +<br> +‘Oh, charming Mollee, you my butler shall be,<br> +To draw the red wine for yourself and for me!<br> +I’ll make you a lady so high in degree,<br> +If you will but love me, my charming Mollee!<br> +<br> +‘I’ll give you fine ribbons, I’ll give you fine rings,<br> +I’ll give you fine jewels, and many fine things;<br> +I’ll give you a petticoat flounced to the knee,<br> +If you will but love me, my charming Mollee!’<br> +<br> +‘I’ll have none of your ribbons, and none of your rings,<br> +None of your jewels, and other fine things;<br> +And I’ve got a petticoat suits my degree,<br> +And I’ll ne’er love a married man till his wife dee.’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, charming Mollee, lend me then your penknife,<br> +And I will go home, and I’ll kill my own wife;<br> +I’ll kill my own wife, and my bairnies three,<br> +If you will but love me, my charming Mollee!’<br> +<br> +‘Oh, noble Sir Arthur, it must not be so,<br> +Go home to your wife, and let nobody know;<br> +For seven long years I will wait upon thee,<br> +But I’ll ne’er love a married man till his wife dee.’<br> +<br> +Now seven long years are gone and are past,<br> +The old woman went to her long home at last;<br> +The old woman died, and Sir Arthur was free,<br> +And he soon came a-courting to charming Mollee.<br> +<br> +Now charming Mollee in her carriage doth ride,<br> +With her hounds at her feet, and her lord by her side:<br> +Now all ye fair maids take a warning by me,<br> +And ne’er love a married man till his wife dee.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THERE WAS AN OLD MAN CAME OVER THE LEA.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This is a version of the <i>Baillie of Berwick</i>, which will be found +in the <i>Local Historian’s Table-Book</i>. It was originally +obtained from Morpeth, and communicated by W. H. Longstaffe, Esq., of +Darlington, who says, ‘in many respects the <i>Baillie of Berwick</i> +is the better edition - still mine may furnish an extra stanza or two, +and the ha! ha! ha! is better than heigho, though the notes suit either +version.’]<br> +<br> +<br> +There was an old man came over the Lea,<br> +Ha-ha-ha-ha! but I won’t have him. <a name="citation67"></a><a href="#footnote67">{67}</a><br> +He came over the Lea,<br> +A-courting to me,<br> +With his grey beard newly-shaven.<br> +<br> +My mother she bid me open the door:<br> +I opened the door,<br> +And he fell on the floor.<br> +<br> +My mother she bid me set him a stool:<br> +I set him a stool,<br> +And he looked like a fool.<br> +<br> +My mother she bid me give him some beer:<br> +I gave him some beer,<br> +And he thought it good cheer.<br> +<br> +My mother she bid me cut him some bread:<br> +I cut him some bread,<br> +And I threw’t at his head.<br> +<br> +My mother she bid me light him to bed.<br> +I lit him to bed,<br> +And wished he were dead.<br> +<br> +My mother she bid me tell him to rise:<br> +I told him to rise,<br> +And he opened his eyes.<br> +<br> +My mother she bid me take him to church:<br> +I took him to church,<br> +And left him in the lurch;<br> +With his grey beard newly-shaven.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: WHY SHOULD WE QUARREL FOR RICHES.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[A version of this very favourite song may be found in Ramsay’s +<i>Tea-Table Miscellany</i>. Though a sailor’s song, we +question whether it is not a greater favourite with landsmen. +The chorus is become proverbial, and its philosophy has often been invoked +to mitigate the evils and misfortunes of life.]<br> +<br> +<br> +How pleasant a sailor’s life passes,<br> +Who roams o’er the watery main!<br> +No treasure he ever amasses,<br> +But cheerfully spends all his gain.<br> +We’re strangers to party and faction,<br> +To honour and honesty true;<br> +And would not commit a bad action<br> +For power or profit in view.<br> +Then why should we quarrel for riches,<br> +Or any such glittering toys;<br> +A light heart, and a thin pair of breeches,<br> +Will go through the world, my brave boys!<br> +<br> +The world is a beautiful garden,<br> +Enriched with the blessings of life,<br> +The toiler with plenty rewarding,<br> +Which plenty too often breeds strife.<br> +When terrible tempests assail us,<br> +And mountainous billows affright,<br> +No grandeur or wealth can avail us,<br> +But skilful industry steers right.<br> +Then why, &c.<br> +<br> +The courtier’s more subject to dangers,<br> +Who rules at the helm of the state,<br> +Than we that, to politics strangers,<br> +Escape the snares laid for the great.<br> +The various blessings of nature,<br> +In various nations we try;<br> +No mortals than us can be greater,<br> +Who merrily live till we die.<br> +Then why should, &c.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE MERRY FELLOWS; OR, HE THAT WILL NOT MERRY, MERRY BE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The popularity of this old lyric, of which ours is the ballad-printer’s +version, has been increased by the lively and appropriate music recently +adapted to it by Mr. Holderness. The date of this song is about +the era of Charles II.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Now, since we’re met, let’s merry, merry be,<br> +In spite of all our foes;<br> +And he that will not merry be,<br> +We’ll pull him by the nose.<br> +<i>Cho</i>. Let him be merry, merry there,<br> +While we’re all merry, merry here,<br> +For who can know where he shall go,<br> +To be merry another year.<br> +<br> +He that will not merry, merry be,<br> +With a generous bowl and a toast,<br> +May he in Bridewell be shut up,<br> +And fast bound to a post.<br> +Let him, &c.<br> +<br> +He that will not merry, merry be,<br> +And take his glass in course,<br> +May he be obliged to drink small beer,<br> +Ne’er a penny in his purse.<br> +Let him, &c.<br> +<br> +He that will not merry, merry be,<br> +With a company of jolly boys;<br> +May he be plagued with a scolding wife,<br> +To confound him with her noise.<br> +Let him, &c.<br> +<br> +[He that will not merry, merry be,<br> +With his sweetheart by his side,<br> +Let him be laid in the cold churchyard,<br> +With a head-stone for his bride.<br> +Let him, &c.]<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE OLD MAN’S SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This ditty, still occasionally heard in the country districts, seems +to be the original of the very beautiful song, <i>The Downhill of</i> +<i>Life. The Old Man’s Song</i> may be found in Playford’s +<i>Theatre</i> <i>of Music</i>, 1685; but we are inclined to refer it +to an earlier period. The song is also published by D’Urfey, +accompanied by two objectionable parodies.]<br> +<br> +<br> +If I live to grow old, for I find I go down,<br> +Let this be my fate in a country town:-<br> +May I have a warm house, with a stone at the gate,<br> +And a cleanly young girl to rub my bald pate;<br> +May I govern my passions with absolute sway,<br> +And grow wiser and better as strength wears away,<br> +Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.<br> +<br> +In a country town, by a murmuring brook,<br> +With the ocean at distance on which I may look;<br> +With a spacious plain, without hedge or stile,<br> +And an easy pad nag to ride out a mile.<br> +May I govern, &c.<br> +<br> +With Horace and Plutarch, and one or two more<br> +Of the best wits that lived in the age before;<br> +With a dish of roast mutton, not venison or teal,<br> +And clean, though coarse, linen at every meal.<br> +May I govern, &c.<br> +<br> +With a pudding on Sunday, and stout humming liquor,<br> +And remnants of Latin to welcome the vicar;<br> +With a hidden reserve of good Burgundy wine,<br> +To drink the king’s health in as oft as I dine.<br> +May I govern, &c.<br> +<br> +When the days are grown short, and it freezes and snows,<br> +May I have a coal fire as high as my nose;<br> +A fire (which once stirred up with a prong),<br> +Will keep the room temperate all the night long.<br> +May I govern, &c.<br> +<br> +With a courage undaunted may I face my last day;<br> +And when I am dead may the better sort say -<br> +‘In the morning when sober, in the evening when mellow,<br> +He’s gone, and he leaves not behind him his fellow!’<br> +May I govern, &c.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: ROBIN HOOD’S HILL.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[Ritson speaks of a Robin Hood’s Hill near Gloucester, and of +a ‘foolish song’ about it. Whether this is the song +to which he alludes we cannot determine. We find it in <i>Notes +and Queries</i>, where it is stated to be printed from a MS. of the +latter part of the last century, and described as a song well known +in the district to which it refers.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Ye bards who extol the gay valleys and glades,<br> +The jessamine bowers, and amorous shades,<br> +Who prospects so rural can boast at your will,<br> +Yet never once mentioned sweet ‘Robin Hood’s Hill.’<br> +<br> +This spot, which of nature displays every smile,<br> +From famed Glo’ster city is distanced two mile,<br> +Of which you a view may obtain at your will,<br> +From the sweet rural summit of ‘Robin Hood’s Hill.’<br> +<br> +Where a clear crystal spring does incessantly flow,<br> +To supply and refresh the fair valley below;<br> +No dog-star’s brisk heat e’er diminished the rill<br> +Which sweetly doth prattle on ‘Robin Hood’s Hill.’<br> +<br> +Here, gazing around, you find objects still new,<br> +Of Severn’s sweet windings, how pleasing the view,<br> +Whose stream with the fruits of blessed commerce doth fill<br> +The sweet-smelling vale beneath ‘Robin Hood’s Hill.’<br> +<br> +This hill, though so lofty, yet fertile and rare,<br> +Few valleys can with it for herbage compare;<br> +Some far greater bard should his lyre and his quill<br> +Direct to the praise of sweet ‘Robin Hood’s Hill.’<br> +<br> +Here lads and gay lasses in couples resort,<br> +For sweet rural pastime and innocent sport;<br> +Sure pleasures ne’er flowed from gay nature or skill,<br> +Like those that are found on sweet ‘Robin Hood’s Hill.’<br> +<br> +Had I all the riches of matchless Peru,<br> +To revel in splendour as emperors do,<br> +I’d forfeit the whole with a hearty good will,<br> +To dwell in a cottage on ‘Robin Hood’s Hill.’<br> +<br> +Then, poets, record my loved theme in your lays:<br> +First view; - then you’ll own that ’tis worthy of praise;<br> +Nay, Envy herself must acknowledge it still,<br> +That no spot’s so delightful as ‘Robin Hood’s Hill.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: BEGONE DULL CARE. (TRADITIONAL.)<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[We cannot trace this popular ditty beyond the reign of James II, but +we believe it to be older. The origin is to be found in an early +French chanson. The present version has been taken down from the +singing of an old Yorkshire yeoman. The third verse we have never +seen in print, but it is always sung in the west of Yorkshire.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Begone, dull care!<br> +I prithee begone from me;<br> +Begone, dull care!<br> +Thou and I can never agree.<br> +Long while thou hast been tarrying here,<br> +And fain thou wouldst me kill;<br> +But i’ faith, dull care,<br> +Thou never shalt have thy will.<br> +<br> +Too much care<br> +Will make a young man grey;<br> +Too much care<br> +Will turn an old man to clay.<br> +My wife shall dance, and I shall sing,<br> +So merrily pass the day;<br> +For I hold it is the wisest thing,<br> +To drive dull care away.<br> +<br> +Hence, dull care,<br> +I’ll none of thy company;<br> +Hence, dull care,<br> +Thou art no pair <a name="citation68"></a><a href="#footnote68">{68}</a> +for me.<br> +We’ll hunt the wild boar through the wold,<br> +So merrily pass the day;<br> +And then at night, o’er a cheerful bowl,<br> +We’ll drive dull care away.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: FULL MERRILY SINGS THE CUCKOO.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The earliest copy of this playful song is one contained in a MS. of +the reign of James I., preserved amongst the registers of the Stationers’ +Company; but the song can be traced back to 1566.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Full merrily sings the cuckoo<br> +Upon the beechen tree;<br> +Your wives you well should look to,<br> +If you take advice of me.<br> +Cuckoo! cuckoo! alack the morn,<br> +When of married men<br> +Full nine in ten<br> +Must be content to wear the horn.<br> +<br> +Full merrily sings the cuckoo<br> +Upon the oaken tree;<br> +Your wives you well should look to,<br> +If you take advice of me.<br> +Cuckoo! cuckoo! alack the day!<br> +For married men<br> +But now and then,<br> +Can ’scape to bear the horn away.<br> +<br> +Full merrily sings the cuckoo<br> +Upon the ashen tree;<br> +Your wives you well should look to,<br> +If you take advice of me.<br> +Cuckoo! cuckoo! alack the noon,<br> +When married men<br> +Must watch the hen,<br> +Or some strange fox will steal her soon.<br> +<br> +Full merrily sings the cuckoo<br> +Upon the alder tree;<br> +Your wives you well should look to,<br> +If you take advice of me.<br> +Cuckoo! cuckoo! alack the eve,<br> +When married men<br> +Must bid good den<br> +To such as horns to them do give.<br> +<br> +Full merrily sings the cuckoo<br> +Upon the aspen tree;<br> +Your wives you well should look to,<br> +If you take advice of me.<br> +Cuckoo! cuckoo! alack the night,<br> +When married men,<br> +Again and again,<br> +Must hide their horns in their despite.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: JOCKEY TO THE FAIR.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[A version of this song, not quite so accurate as the following was +published from an old broadside in <i>Notes and Queries</i>, vol. vii., +p. 49, where it is described as a ‘very celebrated Gloucestershire +ballad.’ But Gloucestershire is not exclusively entitled +to the honour of this genuine old country song, which is well known +in Westmoreland and other counties. ‘Jockey’ songs +constitute a distinct and numerous class, and belong for the most part +to the middle of the last century, when Jockey and Jenny were formidable +rivals to the Strephons and Chloes of the artificial school of pastoral +poetry. The author of this song, whoever he was, drew upon real +rural life, and not upon its fashionable masquerade. We have been +unable to trace the exact date of this ditty, which still enjoys in +some districts a wide popularity. It is not to be found in any +of several large collections of Ranelagh and Vauxhall songs, and other +anthologies, which we have examined. From the christian names +of the lovers, it might be supposed to be of Scotch or Border origin; +but <i>Jockey to the Fair</i> is not confined to the North; indeed it +is much better known, and more frequently sung, in the South and West.]<br> +<br> +<br> +’Twas on the morn of sweet May-day,<br> +When nature painted all things gay,<br> +Taught birds to sing, and lambs to play,<br> +And gild the meadows fair;<br> +Young Jockey, early in the dawn,<br> +Arose and tripped it o’er the lawn;<br> +His Sunday clothes the youth put on,<br> +For Jenny had vowed away to run<br> +With Jockey to the fair;<br> +For Jenny had vowed, &c.<br> +<br> +The cheerful parish bells had rung,<br> +With eager steps he trudged along,<br> +While flowery garlands round him hung,<br> +Which shepherds use to wear;<br> +He tapped the window; ‘Haste, my dear!’<br> +Jenny impatient cried, ‘Who’s there?’<br> +‘’Tis I, my love, and no one near;<br> +Step gently down, you’ve nought to fear,<br> +With Jockey to the fair.’<br> +Step gently down, &c.<br> +<br> +‘My dad and mam are fast asleep,<br> +My brother’s up, and with the sheep;<br> +And will you still your promise keep,<br> +Which I have heard you swear?<br> +And will you ever constant prove?’<br> +‘I will, by all the powers above,<br> +And ne’er deceive my charming dove;<br> +Dispel these doubts, and haste, my love,<br> +With Jockey to the fair.’<br> +Dispel, &c.<br> +<br> +‘Behold, the ring,’ the shepherd cried;<br> +‘Will Jenny be my charming bride?<br> +Let Cupid be our happy guide,<br> +And Hymen meet us there.’<br> +Then Jockey did his vows renew;<br> +He would be constant, would he true,<br> +His word was pledged; away she flew,<br> +O’er cowslips tipped with balmy dew,<br> +With Jockey to the fair.<br> +O’er cowslips, &c.<br> +<br> +In raptures meet the joyful throng;<br> +Their gay companions, blithe and young,<br> +Each join the dance, each raise the song,<br> +To hail the happy pair.<br> +In turns there’s none so loud as they,<br> +They bless the kind propitious day,<br> +The smiling morn of blooming May,<br> +When lovely Jenny ran away<br> +With Jockey to the fair.<br> +When lovely, &c.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: LONG PRESTON PEG. (A FRAGMENT.)<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[Mr. Birkbeck, of Threapland House, Lintondale, in Craven, has favoured +us with the following fragment. The tune is well known in the North, +but all attempts on the part of Mr. Birkbeck to obtain the remaining +verses have been unsuccessful. The song is evidently of the date +of the first rebellion, 1715.]<br> +<br> +<br> +Long Preston Peg to proud Preston went,<br> +To see the Scotch rebels it was her intent.<br> +A noble Scotch lord, as he passed by,<br> +On this Yorkshire damsel did soon cast an eye.<br> +<br> +He called to his servant, which on him did wait,<br> +‘Go down to yon girl who stands in the gate, <a name="citation69"></a><a href="#footnote69">{69}</a><br> +That sings with a voice so soft and so sweet,<br> +And in my name do her lovingly greet.’<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE SWEET NIGHTINGALE; OR, DOWN IN THOSE VALLEYS BELOW. + AN ANCIENT CORNISH SONG.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This curious ditty, which may be confidently assigned to the seventeenth +century, is said to be a translation from the ancient Cornish tongue. +We first heard it in Germany, in the pleasure-gardens of the Marienberg, +on the Moselle. The singers were four Cornish miners, who were +at that time, 1854, employed at some lead mines near the town of Zell. +The leader or ‘Captain,’ John Stocker, said that the song +was an established favourite with the lead miners of Cornwall and Devonshire, +and was always sung on the pay-days, and at the wakes; and that his +grandfather, who died thirty years before, at the age of a hundred years, +used to sing the song, and say that it was very old. Stocker promised +to make a copy of it, but there was no opportunity of procuring it before +we left Germany. The following version has been supplied by a +gentleman in Plymouth, who writes:-<br> +<br> +I have had a great deal of trouble about <i>The Valley Below</i>. +It is not in print. I first met with one person who knew one part, +then with another person who knew another part, but nobody could sing +the whole. At last, chance directed me to an old man at work on +the roads, and he sung and recited it throughout, not exactly, however, +as I send it, for I was obliged to supply a little here and there, but +only where a bad rhyme, or rather none at all, made it evident what +the real rhyme was. I have read it over to a mining gentleman +at Truro, and he says ‘It is pretty near the way we sing it.’<br> +<br> +The tune is plaintive and original.]<br> +<br> +<br> +‘My sweetheart, come along!<br> +Don’t you hear the fond song,<br> +The sweet notes of the nightingale flow?<br> +Don’t you hear the fond tale<br> +Of the sweet nightingale,<br> +As she sings in those valleys below?<br> +So be not afraid<br> +To walk in the shade,<br> +Nor yet in those valleys below,<br> +Nor yet in those valleys below.<br> +<br> +‘Pretty Betsy, don’t fail,<br> +For I’ll carry your pail,<br> +Safe home to your cot as we go;<br> +You shall hear the fond tale<br> +Of the sweet nightingale,<br> +As she sings in those valleys below.’<br> +But she was afraid<br> +To walk in the shade,<br> +To walk in those valleys below,<br> +To walk in those valleys below.<br> +<br> +‘Pray let me alone,<br> +I have hands of my own;<br> +Along with you I will not go,<br> +To hear the fond tale<br> +Of the sweet nightingale,<br> +As she sings in those valleys below;<br> +For I am afraid<br> +To walk in the shade,<br> +To walk in those valleys below,<br> +To walk in those valleys below.’<br> +<br> +‘Pray sit yourself down<br> +With me on the ground,<br> +On this bank where sweet primroses grow;<br> +You shall hear the fond tale<br> +Of the sweet nightingale,<br> +As she sings in those valleys below;<br> +So be not afraid<br> +To walk in the shade,<br> +Nor yet in those valleys below,<br> +Nor yet in those valleys below.’<br> +<br> +This couple agreed;<br> +They were married with speed,<br> +And soon to the church they did go.<br> +She was no more afraid<br> +For to <a name="citation70"></a><a href="#footnote70">{70}</a> walk +in the shade,<br> +Nor yet in those valleys below:<br> +Nor to hear the fond tale<br> +Of the sweet nightingale,<br> +As she sung in those valleys below,<br> +As she sung in those valleys below.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: THE OLD MAN AND HIS THREE SONS.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[This traditional ditty, founded upon the old ballad inserted <i>ante</i>, +p. 124, is current as a nursery song in the North of England.]<br> +<br> +<br> +There was an old man, and sons he had three, <a name="citation71"></a><a href="#footnote71">{71}</a><br> +Wind well, Lion, good hunter.<br> +A friar he being one of the three,<br> +With pleasure he rangèd the north country,<br> +For he was a jovial hunter.<br> +<br> +As he went to the woods some pastime to see,<br> +Wind well, Lion, good hunter,<br> +He spied a fair lady under a tree,<br> +Sighing and moaning mournfully.<br> +He was a jovial hunter.<br> +<br> +‘What are you doing, my fair lady!’<br> +Wind well, Lion, good hunter.<br> +‘I’m frightened, the wild boar he will kill me,<br> +He has worried my lord, and wounded thirty,<br> +As thou art a jovial hunter.’<br> +<br> +Then the friar he put his horn to his mouth,<br> +Wind well, Lion, good hunter.<br> +And he blew a blast, east, west, north, and south,<br> +And the wild boar from his den he came forth<br> +Unto the jovial hunter.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Ballad: A BEGGING WE WILL GO.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +[The authorship of this song is attributed to Richard Brome - (he who +once ‘performed a servant’s faithful part’ for Ben +Jonson) - in a black-letter copy in the Bagford Collection, where it +is entitled <i>The Beggars’ Chorus in the</i> ‘<i>Jovial +Crew</i>,’ <i>to an excellent</i> <i>new tune</i>. No such +chorus, however, appears in the play, which was produced at the Cock-pit +in 1641; and the probability is, as Mr. Chappell conjectures, that it +was only interpolated in the performance. It is sometimes called +<i>The Jovial Beggar</i>. The tune has been from time to time +introduced into several ballad operas; and the song, says Mr. Chappell, +who publishes the air in his <i>Popular Music</i>, ‘is the prototype +of many others, such as <i>A bowling we will go, A fishing we will go, +A hawking we will go</i>, and <i>A fishing we will go</i>. The +last named is still popular with those who take delight in hunting, +and the air is now scarcely known by any other title.]<br> +<br> +<br> +There was a jovial beggar,<br> +He had a wooden leg,<br> +Lame from his cradle,<br> +And forced for to beg.<br> +And a begging we will go, we’ll go, we’ll go;<br> +And a begging we will go!<br> +<br> +A bag for his oatmeal,<br> +Another for his salt;<br> +And a pair of crutches,<br> +To show that he can halt.<br> +And a begging, &c.<br> +<br> +A bag for his wheat,<br> +Another for his rye;<br> +A little bottle by his side,<br> +To drink when he’s a-dry.<br> +And a begging, &c.<br> +<br> +Seven years I begged<br> +For my old Master Wild,<br> +He taught me to beg<br> +When I was but a child.<br> +And a begging, &c.<br> +<br> +I begged for my master,<br> +And got him store of pelf;<br> +But now, Jove be praised!<br> +I’m begging for myself.<br> +And a begging, &c.<br> +<br> +In a hollow tree<br> +I live, and pay no rent;<br> +Providence provides for me,<br> +And I am well content.<br> +And a begging, &c.<br> +<br> +Of all the occupations,<br> +A beggar’s life’s the best;<br> +For whene’er he’s weary,<br> +He’ll lay him down and rest.<br> +And a begging, &c.<br> +<br> +I fear no plots against me,<br> +I live in open cell;<br> +Then who would be a king<br> +When beggars live so well?<br> +And a begging we will go, we’ll go, we’ll go;<br> +And a begging we will go!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Footnotes:<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1">{1}</a> This is the +same tune as <i>Fortune my foe</i>. - See <i>Popular Music of the Olden +Time</i>, p. 162.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote2"></a><a href="#citation2">{2}</a> This word +seems to be used here in the sense of the French verb <i>mettre</i>, +to put, to place.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote3"></a><a href="#citation3">{3}</a> The stall +copies read ‘Gamble bold.’<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote4"></a><a href="#citation4">{4}</a> In the Roxburgh +Collection is a copy of this ballad, in which the catastrophe is brought +about in a different manner. When the young lady finds that she +is to be drowned, she very leisurely makes a particular examination +of the place of her intended destruction, and raises an objection to +some nettles which are growing on the banks of the stream; these she +requires to be removed, in the following poetical stanza:-<br> +<br> +‘Go fetch the sickle, to crop the nettle,<br> +That grows so near the brim;<br> +For fear it should tangle my golden locks,<br> +Or freckle my milk-white skin.’<br> +<br> +A request so elegantly made is gallantly complied with by the treacherous +knight, who, while engaged in ‘cropping’ the nettles, is +pushed into the stream.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote5"></a><a href="#citation5">{5}</a> A <i>tinker</i> +is still so called in the north of England.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote6"></a><a href="#citation6">{6}</a> This poor +minstrel was born at the village of Rylstone, in Craven, the scene of +Wordsworth’s <i>White Doe of Rylstone</i>. King was always +called ‘the Skipton Minstrel;’ and he merited that name, +for he was not a mere player of jigs and country dances, but a singer +of heroic ballads, carrying his hearers back to the days of chivalry +and royal adventure, when the King of England called up Cheshire and +Lancashire to fight the King of France, and monarchs sought the greenwood +tree, and hob-a-nobbed with tinkers, knighting these Johns of the Dale +as a matter of poetical justice and high sovereign prerogative. +Francis King was a character. His physiognomy was striking and +peculiar; and, although there was nothing of the rogue in its expression, +for an honester fellow never breathed, he might have sat for Wordsworth’s +‘Peter Bell.’ He combined in a rare degree the qualities +of the mime and the minstrel, and his old jokes, and older ballads and +songs, always ensured him a hearty welcome. He was lame, in consequence +of one leg being shorter than the other, and his limping gait used to +give occasion to the remark that ‘few Kings had had more ups and +downs in the world.’ He met his death by drowning on the +night of December 13, 1844. He had been at a ‘merry-making’ +at Gargrave, in Craven, and it is supposed that, owing to the darkness +of the night, he mistook the road, and walked into the river. +As a musician his talents were creditable; and his name will long survive +in the village records. The minstrel’s grave is in the quiet +churchyard of Gargrave. Further particulars of Francis King may +be seen in Dixon’s <i>Stories of</i> <i>the Craven</i> <i>Dales</i>, +published by Tasker and Son, of Skipton.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote7"></a><a href="#citation7">{7}</a> This is the +ancient way of spelling the name of Reading. In Percy’s +version of <i>Barbara Allen</i>, that ballad commences ‘In Scarlet +town,’ which, in the common stall copies, is rendered ‘In +Redding town.’ The former is apparently a pun upon the old +orthography - <i>Red</i>ding.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote8"></a><a href="#citation8">{8}</a> The sister +of Roger.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote9"></a><a href="#citation9">{9}</a> This gentleman +was Mr. Thomas Petty.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote10"></a><a href="#citation10">{10}</a> We here, +and in a subsequent verse, find ‘daughter’ made to rhyme +with ‘after;’ but we must not therefore conclude that the +rhyme is of cockney origin. In many parts of England, the word +‘daughter’ is pronounced ‘dafter’ by the peasantry, +who, upon the same principle, pronounce ‘slaughter’ as if +it were spelt ‘slafter.’<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote11"></a><a href="#citation11">{11}</a> Added +to complete the sense.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote12"></a><a href="#citation12">{12}</a> That is, +‘said he, the wild boar.’<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote13"></a><a href="#citation13">{13}</a> Scott +has strangely misunderstood this line, which he interprets -<br> +<br> +‘Many people did she <i>kill</i>.’<br> +<br> +‘Fell’ is to knock down, and the meaning is that she could +‘well’ knock down, or ‘fell’ people.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote14"></a><a href="#citation14">{14}</a> Went.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote15"></a><a href="#citation15">{15}</a> The meaning +appears to be that no ‘wiseman’ or wizard, no matter from +whence his magic, was derived, durst face her. Craven has always +been famed for its wizards, or wisemen, and several of such impostors +may be found there at the present day.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote16"></a><a href="#citation16">{16}</a> Scott’s +MS. reads Ralph, but Raphe is the ancient form.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote17"></a><a href="#citation17">{17}</a> Scott +reads ‘brim as beare,’ which he interprets ‘fierce +as a bear.’ Whitaker’s rendering is correct. +Beare is a small hamlet on the Bay of Morecambe, no great distance, +as the crow files, from the <i>locale</i> of the poem. There is +also a Bear-park in the county of Durham, of which place Bryan might +be an inhabitant. <i>Utrum horum</i>, &c.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote18"></a><a href="#citation18">{18}</a> That is, +they were good soldiers when the <i>musters</i> were - when the regiments +were called up.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote19"></a><a href="#citation19">{19}</a> Fierce +look.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote20"></a><a href="#citation20">{20}</a> Descended +from an ancient race famed for fighting.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote21"></a><a href="#citation21">{21}</a> Assaulted. +They were, although out of danger, terrified by the attacks of the sow, +and their fear was shared by the kiln, which began to smoke!<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote22"></a><a href="#citation22">{22}</a> Watling-street, +the Roman way from Catterick to Bowes.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote23"></a><a href="#citation23">{23}</a> Lost his +colour.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote24"></a><a href="#citation24">{24}</a> Scott, +not understanding this expression, has inserted ‘Jesus’ +for the initials ‘I. H. S.,’ and so has given a profane +interpretation to the passage. By a figure of speech the friar +is called an I. H. S., from these letters being conspicuously wrought +on his robes, just as we might call a livery-servant by his master’s +motto, because it was stamped on his buttons.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote25"></a><a href="#citation25">{25}</a> The meaning +here is obscure. The verse is not in Whitaker.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote26"></a><a href="#citation26">{26}</a> Warlock +or wizard.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote27"></a><a href="#citation27">{27}</a> It is +probable that by guest is meant an allusion to the spectre dog of Yorkshire +(the <i>Barguest</i>), to which the sow is compared.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote28"></a><a href="#citation28">{28}</a> Hired.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote29"></a><a href="#citation29">{29}</a> The monastery +of Gray Friars at Richmond. - See LELAND, <i>Itin</i>., vol. iii, p. +109.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote30"></a><a href="#citation30">{30}</a> This appears +to have been a cant saying in the reign of Charles II. It occurs +in several novels, jest books and satires of the time, and was probably +as unmeaning as such vulgarisms are in general.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote31"></a><a href="#citation31">{31}</a> A cake +composed of oatmeal, caraway-seeds, and treacle. ‘Ale and +parkin’ is a common morning meal in the north of England.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote32"></a><a href="#citation32">{32}</a> We have +heard a Yorkshire yeoman sing a version, which commenced with this line:-<br> +<br> +‘ It was at the time of a high holiday.’<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote33"></a><a href="#citation33">{33}</a> Bell-ringing +was formerly a great amusement of the English, and the allusions to +it are of frequent occurrence. Numerous payments to bell-ringers +are generally to be found in Churchwarden’s accounts of the sixteenth +and seventeenth centuries. - CHAPPELL.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote34"></a><a href="#citation34">{34}</a> The subject +and burthen of this song are identical with those of the song which +immediately follows, called in some copies <i>The Clown’s</i> +<i>Courtship, sung to the King at Windsor</i>, and in others, <i>I cannot +come everyday to woo</i>. The Kentish ditty cannot be traced to +so remote a date as the <i>Clown’s Courtship</i>; but it probably +belongs to the same period.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote35"></a><a href="#citation35">{35}</a> The common +modern copies read ‘St. Leger’s Round.’<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote36"></a><a href="#citation36">{36}</a> The common +stall copies read ‘Pan,’ which not only furnishes a more +accurate rhyme to ‘Nan,’ but is, probably, the true reading. +About the time when this song was written, there appears to have been +some country minstrel or fiddler, who was well known by the sobriquet +of ‘Pan.’ Frequent allusions to such a personage may +be found in popular ditties of the period, and it is evidently that +individual, and not the heathen deity, who is referred to in the song +of <i>Arthur O’Bradley:-<br> +<br> +</i>‘Not Pan, the god of the swains,<br> +Could e’er produce such strains.’ - See <i>ante</i>, p. +142.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote37"></a><a href="#citation37">{37}</a> A correspondent +of <i>Notes and Queries</i> says that, although there is some resemblance +between Flora and Furry, the latter word is derived from an old Cornish +term, and signifies jubilee or fair.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote38"></a><a href="#citation38">{38}</a> There +is another version of these concluding lines:-<br> +<br> +‘Down the red lane there lives an old fox,<br> +There does he sit a-mumping his chops;<br> +Catch him, boys, catch him, catch if you can;<br> +’Tis twenty to one if you catch him or Nan.’<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote39"></a><a href="#citation39">{39}</a> A cant +term for a fiddle. In its literal sense, it means trunk, or box-belly.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote40"></a><a href="#citation40">{40}</a> ‘Helicon,’ +as observed by Sir C. Sharp, is, of course, the true reading.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote41"></a><a href="#citation41">{41}</a> In the +introduction of the ‘prodigal son,’ we have a relic derived +from the old mysteries and moralities. Of late years, the ‘prodigal +son’ has been left out, and his place supplied by a ‘sailor.’<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote42"></a><a href="#citation42">{42}</a> Probably +the disease here pointed at is the sweating sickness of old times.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote43"></a><a href="#citation43">{43}</a> Robert +Kearton, a working miner, and librarian and lecturer at the Grassington +Mechanics’ institution, informs us that at Coniston, in Lancashire, +and the neighbourhood, the maskers go about at the proper season, viz., +Easter. Their introductory song is different to the one given +above. He has favoured us with two verses of the delectable composition; +he says, ‘I dare say they’ll be quite sufficient!’<br> +<br> +‘The next that comes on<br> +Is a gentleman’s son; -<br> +A gentleman’s son he was born;<br> +For mutton and beef,<br> +You may look at his teeth,<br> +He’s a laddie for picking a bone!<br> +<br> +‘The next that comes on<br> +Is a tailor so bold -<br> +He can stitch up a hole in the dark!<br> +There’s never a ‘prentice<br> +In famed London city<br> +Can find any fault with his <i>wark</i>!’<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote44"></a><a href="#citation44">{44}</a> For the +history of the paschal egg, see a paper by Mr. J. H. Dixon, in the <i>Local +Historian’s Table Book</i> (Traditional Division). Newcastle. +1843.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote45"></a><a href="#citation45">{45}</a> We suspect +that Lord Nelson’s name was introduced out of respect to the late +Jack Rider, of Linton (who is himself introduced into the following +verse), an old tar who, for many years, was one of the ‘maskers’ +in the district from whence our version was obtained. Jack was +‘loblolly boy’ on board the ‘Victory,’ and one +of the group that surrounded the dying Hero of Trafalgar. Amongst +his many miscellaneous duties, Jack had to help the doctor; and while +so employed, he once set fire to the ship as he was engaged investigating, +by candlelight, the contents of a bottle of ether. The fire was +soon extinguished, but not without considerable noise and confusion. +Lord Nelson, when the accident happened, was busy writing his despatches. +‘What’s all that noise about?’ he demanded. +The answer was, ‘Loblolly boy’s set fire to an empty bottle, +and it has set fire to the doctor’s shop!’ ‘Oh, +that’s all, is it?’ said Nelson, ‘then I wish you +and loblolly would put the fire out without making such a confusion’ +- and he went on writing with the greatest coolness, although the accident +might have been attended by the most disastrous consequences, as an +immense quantity of powder was on board, and some of it close to the +scene of the disaster. The third day after the above incident +Nelson was no more, and the poor ‘loblolly boy’ left the +service minus two fingers. ‘Old Jack’ used often to +relate his ‘accident;’ and Captain Carslake, now of Sidmouth, +who, at the time was one of the officers, permits us to add his corroboration +of its truth.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote46"></a><a href="#citation46">{46}</a> In this +place, and in the first line of the following verse, the name of the +horse is generally inserted by the singer; and ‘Filpail’ +is often substituted for ‘the cow’ in a subsequent verse.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote47"></a><a href="#citation47">{47}</a> The ‘swearing-in’ +is gone through by females as well as the male sex. See Hone’s +<i>Year-Book.<br> +<br> +</i><a name="footnote48"></a><a href="#citation48">{48}</a> A +fig newly gathered from the tree; so called to distinguish it from a +grocer’s, or preserved fig.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote49"></a><a href="#citation49">{49}</a> This line +is sometimes sung -<br> +<br> +O! I went into the stable, to see what I could see.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote50"></a><a href="#citation50">{50}</a> Three +cabbage-nets, according to some versions.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote51"></a><a href="#citation51">{51}</a> This is +a common phrase in old English songs and ballads. See <i>The Summer’s +Morning, post</i>, p. 229.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote52"></a><a href="#citation52">{52}</a> See ante, +p. 82.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote53"></a><a href="#citation53">{53}</a> Near.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote54"></a><a href="#citation54">{54}</a> The high-road +through a town or village.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote55"></a><a href="#citation55">{55}</a> That is +Tommy’s opinion. In the Yorkshire dialect, when the possessive +case is followed by the relative substantive, it is customary to omit +the <i>s</i>; but if the relative be understood, and not expressed, +the possessive case is formed in the usual manner, as in a subsequent +line of this song:-<br> +<br> +‘Hee’d a horse, too, ‘twor war than ond Tommy’s, +ye see.’<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote56"></a><a href="#citation56">{56}</a> Alive, +quick.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote57"></a><a href="#citation57">{57}</a> Only.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote58"></a><a href="#citation58">{58}</a> Famished. +The line in which this word occurs exhibits one of the most striking +peculiarities of the Lancashire dialect, which is, that in words ending +in <i>ing</i>, the termination is changed into <i>ink. Ex</i>. +<i>gr</i>., for starving, <i>starvink</i>, farthing, <i>fardink</i>.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote59"></a><a href="#citation59">{59}</a> In one +version this line has been altered, probably by some printer who had +a wholesome fear of the ‘Bench of Justices,’ into -<br> +<br> +‘Success to every gentleman<br> +That lives in Lincolnsheer.’<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote60"></a><a href="#citation60">{60}</a> Dr. Whitaker +gives a traditional version of part of this song as follows:-<br> +<br> +‘The gardener standing by proferred to chuse for me,<br> +The pink, the primrose, and the rose, but I refused the three;<br> +The primrose I forsook because it came too soon,<br> +The violet I o’erlooked, and vowed to wait till June.<br> +<br> +In June, the red rose sprung, bat was no flower for me,<br> +I plucked it up, lo! by the stalk, and planted the willow-tree.<br> +The willow I must wear with sorrow twined among,<br> +That all the world may know I falshood loved too long.’<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote61"></a><a href="#citation61">{61}</a> The following +account of Billy Bolton may, with propriety, be inserted here:- It was +a lovely September day, and the scene was Arncliffe, a retired village +in Littondale, one of the most secluded of the Yorkshire dales. +While sitting at the open window of the humble hostelrie, we heard what +we, at first, thought was a <i>ranter</i> parson, but, on inquiry, were +told it was old Billy Bolton reading to a crowd of villagers. +Curious to ascertain what the minstrel was reading, we joined the crowd, +and found the text-book was a volume of Hume’s <i>England</i>, +which contained the reign of Elizabeth. Billy read in a clear +voice, with proper emphasis, and correct pronunciation, interlarding +his reading with numerous comments, the nature of some of which may +be readily inferred from the fact that the minstrel belonged to what +he called ‘the ancient church.’ It was a scene for +a painter; the village situate in one of the deepest parts of the dale, +the twilight hour, the attentive listeners, and the old man, leaning +on his knife-grinding machine, and conveying popular information to +a simple peasantry. Bolton is in the constant habit of so doing, +and is really an extraordinary man, uniting, as he does, the opposite +occupations of minstrel, conjuror, knife-grinder, and schoolmaster. +Such a labourer (though an humble one) in the great cause of human improvement +is well deserving of this brief notice, which it would be unjust to +conclude without stating that whenever the itinerant teacher takes occasion +to speak of his own creed, and contrast it with others, he does so in +a spirit of charity; and he never performs any of his sleight-of-hand +tricks without a few introductory remarks on the evil of superstition, +and the folly of supposing that in the present age any mortal is endowed +with supernatural attainments.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote62"></a><a href="#citation62">{62}</a> This elastic +opening might be adapted to existing circumstances by a slight alteration:-<br> +<br> +The praise of a dairy to tell you I mean,<br> +But all things in order, first God save the Queen.<br> +<br> +The common copies print ‘God save the Queen,’ which of course +destroys the rhyme.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote63"></a><a href="#citation63">{63}</a> This is +the reading of a common stall copy. Chappell reads -<br> +<br> +‘For at Tottenham-court,’<br> +<br> +which is no doubt correct, though inapplicable to a rural assembly in +our days.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote64"></a><a href="#citation64">{64}</a> Brew, +or broo, or broth. Chappell’s version reads, ‘No state +you can think,’ which is apparently a mistake. The reading +of the common copies is to be preferred.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote65"></a><a href="#citation65">{65}</a> No doubt +the original word in these places was <i>sack</i>, as in Chappell’s +copy - but what would a peasant understand by <i>sack</i>? Dryden’s +receipt for a sack posset is as follows:-<br> +<br> +‘From fair Barbadoes, on the western main,<br> +Fetch sugar half-a-pound: fetch sack, from Spain,<br> +A pint: then fetch, from India’s fertile coast,<br> +Nutmeg, the glory of the British toast.’<br> +<i>Miscellany Poem, v</i>. 138.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote66"></a><a href="#citation66">{66}</a> Corrupted +in modern copies into ‘we’ll range and we’ll rove.’ +The reading in the text is the old reading. The phrase occurs +in several old songs.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote67"></a><a href="#citation67">{67}</a> We should, +probably, read ‘he.’<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote68"></a><a href="#citation68">{68}</a> Peer - +equal.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote69"></a><a href="#citation69">{69}</a> The road +or street.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote70"></a><a href="#citation70">{70}</a> This is +the only instance of this peculiar form in the present version. +The miners in the Marienberg invariably said ‘for to’ wherever +the preposition ‘to’ occurred before a verb.<br> +<br> +<a name="footnote71"></a><a href="#citation71">{71}</a> Three +is a favourite number in the nursery rhymes. The following is +one of numerous examples:-<br> +<br> +There was an old woman had three sons,<br> +Jerry and James and John:<br> +Jerry was hung, James was drowned,<br> +John was lost and never was found;<br> +And there was an end of her three sons,<br> +Jerry, and James, and John!<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, ANCIENT POEMS OF ENGLAND ***<br> +<pre> + +******This file should be named oleng10h.htm or oleng10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, oleng11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, oleng10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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