"Luck, Luck in tha Bag! Good Luck!
Put in an try yer fortin;
Come, try yer luck in tha Lucky Bag!
You'll git a prize vor sartin."
Mooäst plazen hâ their customs
Ther manners an ther men;
We too a got our customs,
Our manners and our men.
He who a bin ta Huntspill Fâyer
Or Highbridge--Pawlet Revel--
Or Burtle Sassions, whaur thâ plâ
Zumtimes tha very devil,
Mist mine once a man well
That war a câll'd TOM GOOL;
Zum thawt en mazed, while withers thawt
En moor a knave than fool.
At all tha fâyers an revels too
TOM GOOL war shower ta be,
A tâkin vlother vast awâ,--
A hoopin who bit he.
Vor' âll that a had a zoort o' wit
That zet tha vawk a laughin;
An mooäst o' that, when ho tha yal
Ad at tha fâyer bin quaffin.
A corr'd a kit o' pedlar's waur,
Like awld _Joannah Martin_;
[Footnote: This Lady, who was for many years known in
Somersetshire as an itinerant dealer in earthenware, rags, &c.,
and occasionally a _fortune-teller_, died a few years since
at Huntspill, where she had resided for the greater part of a
century. She was extremely illiterate, so much so, as not to be
able to write, and, I think, could scarcely read. She lived for
some years in a house belonging to my father, and while a boy, I
was very often her gratuitous amanuensis, in writing letters for
her to her children. She possessed, however, considerable
shrewdness, energy, and perseverance, and amassed property to the
amount of several hundred pounds. She had three husbands; the
name of the first was, I believe, _Gool_ or _Gould_, a
relation of _Thomas Gool_, the subject of the above Poem; the
name of the second was _Martin_, of the third _Pain_;
but as the last lived a short time only after having married her,
she always continued to be called Joannah Martin.
_Joannah_ was first brought into public notice by the Rev.
Mr. WARNER, in his _Walks through the Western Counties_,
published in 1800, in which work will be found a lively and
interesting description of her; but she often said that she
should wish me to write her life, as I was, of course, more
intimately acquainted with it than any casual inquirer could
possibly be. An additional notice of Joannah was inserted by
me in the _Monthly Magazine_, for Nov. 1816, page 310. I had
among my papers, the _original song composed_ by her, which I
copied from her dictation many years ago,--the only, copy in
existence; I regret that I cannot lay my hand upon it; as it
contains much of the Somersetshire idiom. I have more than once
heard her sing this song, which was satirical, and related to the
conduct of a female, one of her neighbours, who had become a
thief.
Such was JOANNAH MARTIN, a woman whose name (had she moved in a
sphere where her original talents could have been improved by
education,) might have been added to the list of distinguished
female worthies of our country.
[The MS. song was never, that I am aware of, discovered
after my relative's death.--Editor, J. K. J.]]
An nif yon hân't a hired o' her,
You zumtime sholl vor sartin.
"Luck, Luck in tha Bag!" TOM, cried
"Put in and try yer fortin;
Come try yer luck in tha lucky bag;
You'll git a prize vor sartin.
All prizes, norra blank,
Norra blank, âll prizes!
A waiter--knife--or scissis sheer--
A splat o' pins--put in my dear!--
Whitechapel nills âll sizes.
Luck, Luck in tha Bag!--only a penny vor a venter--you mid get, a-
ma-be, a girt prize--a _Rawman waiter!_--I can avoord it as
cheep as thic that stawl it--I a bote it ta trust, an niver
intend to pâ vor't. Luck, Luck in tha bag! âll prizes; norra
blank!
Luck, Luck in tha Bag! Good Luck!
Put in an try yer fortin;
Come, try yer luck in tha lucky bag!
You'll git a prize vor sartin.
Come, niver mine tha single-sticks,
Tha whoppin or tha stickler,
You dwon't want now a brawken head,
"Nor jitchy zoort o' tickler!
Now Lady! yer prize is--'A SNUFF-BOX,'
A treble-japann'd Pontypool!
You'll shower come again ta my luck in tha bag,
Or niver trust me--TOMMY GOOL.
Luck, Luck in tha bag! Good Luck!
Put in an try yer fortin;
Come, try yer luck in tha lucky bag!
You'll git a prize for sartin!