"My liege," quo' the abbot, "I would it were known
I never spend nothing, but what is my own;
And I trust your grace will do me no deere,
For spending of my own true-gotten gear."
"Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is high,
And now for the same thou needest must die;
For except thou canst answer me questions three,
Thy head shall be smitten from thy body.
"And first," quo' the king, "when I'm in this
stead,
With my crown of gold so fair on my head,
Among all my liege-men so noble of birth,
Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worth.
"Secondly, tell me, without any doubt,
How soon I may ride the whole world about;
And at the third question thou must not shrink,
But tell me here truly what I do think."
"O these are hard questions for my shallow wit,
Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet:
But if you will give me but three weeks' space,
I'll do my endeavour to answer your grace."
(_deere_, harm. _stead_, place.)
"Now three weeks' space to thee will I give,
And that is the longest time thou hast to live;
For if thou dost not answer my questions three,
Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to me."
Away rode the abbot all sad at that word,
And he rode to Cambridge, and Oxenford;
But never a doctor there was so wise,
That could with his learning an answer devise.
Then home rode the abbot of comfort so cold,
And he met his shepherd a going to fold:
"How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome home;
What news do you bring us from good King John?"
"Sad news, sad news, shepherd, I must give,
That I have but three days more to live;
For if I do not answer him questions three
My head will be smitten from my body.
"The first is to tell him there in that stead,
With his crown of gold so fair on his head,
Among all his liege-men so noble of birth,
To within one penny of what he is worth.
"The second, to tell him, without any doubt,
How soon he may ride this whole world about;
And at the third question I must not shrink,
But tell him there truly what he does think."
"Now cheer up, sire abbot, did you never hear yet,
That a fool he may learn a wise man wit?
Lend me horse, and serving men, and your apparel,
And I'll ride to London to answer your quarrel.
"Nay frown not, if it hath been told unto me,
I am like your lordship, as ever may be;
And if you will but lend me your gown,
There is none shall know us at fair London
town."+
"Now horses and serving-men thou shalt have,
With sumptuous array most gallant and brave,
With crozier, and mitre, and rochet, and cope,
Fit to appear Yore our father the pope."
"Now, welcome, sire abbot," the king he did say,
"'Tis well thourt come back to keep thy day:
For and if thou canst answer my questions three,
Thy life and thy living both saved shall be.
"And first, when thou seest me here in this stead,
With my crown of gold so fair on my head,
Among all my liege-men so noble of birth,
Tell me to one penny what I am worth."
"For thirty pence our Saviour was sold
Among the false Jews, as I have been told:
And twenty-nine is the worth of thee,
For I think thou art one penny worser than he."
The king he laughed, and swore by St Bittel,
"I did not think I had been worth so little!
--Now secondly tell me, without any doubt,
How soon I may ride this whole world about."
"You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same
Until the next morning he riseth again;
And then your grace need not make any doubt
But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about."
The king he laughed, and swore by St John,
"I did not think it could be gone so soon!
--Now from the third question thou must not shrink,
But tell me here truly what I do think."
"Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry;
You think I'm the abbot of Canterbury;
But I'm his poor shepherd, as plain you may see,
That am come to beg pardon for him and for me."
The king he laughed, and swore by the mass,
"I'll make thee lord abbot this day in his place!"
"Now nay, my liege, be not in such speed,
For alack I can neither write nor read."
"Four nobles a week, then I will give thee,
For this merry jest thou hast shown unto me;
And tell the old abbot when thou comest home,
Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John."
(_Bittel_, Botolph (?))
THE KING AND THE COUNTRYMAN
[Illustration: 0287)
There was an old chap in the west country,
A flaw in the lease the lawyers had found,
'Twas all about felling of five oak trees,
And building a house upon his own ground.
Right too looral, looral, looral--right too looral la!
Now, this old chap to Lunnun would go,
To tell the king a part of his woe,
Likewise to tell him a part of his grief,
In hopes the king would give him relief.
Now, when this old chap to Lunnun had come,
He found the king to Windsor had gone;
But if he'd known he'd not been at home,
He danged his buttons if ever he'd come.
Now, when this old chap to Windsor did stump,
The gates were barred, and all secure,
But he knocked and thumped with his oaken clump,
There's room within for I to be sure.
But when he got there, how he did stare,
To see the yeomen strutting about;
He scratched his head, and rubbed down his hair,
In the ear of a noble he gave a great shout:
"Pray, Mr Noble, show I the King;
Is that the King that I see there?
I see'd an old chap at Bartlemy fair
Look more like a king than that chap there.
"Well, Mr King, pray how dye do?
I gotten for you a bit of a job,
Which if you'll be so kind as to do,
I gotten a summat for you in my fob."
The king he took the lease in hand,
To sign it, too, he was likewise willing;
And the old chap to make a little amends,
He lugged out his bag, and gave him a shilling.
The king, to carry on the joke,
Ordered ten pounds to be paid down;
The farmer he stared, but nothing spoke,
And stared again, and he scratched his crown.
The farmer he stared to see so much money,
And to take it up he was likewise willing;
But if he'd a known King had got so much money,
He danged his wig if he'd gi'en him that shilling!
SADDLE TO RAGS
|This story I'm going to sing,
I hope it will give you content,
Concerning a silly old man
That was going to pay his rent.
With a till da dill, till a dill, dill,
Till a dill, dill a dill, dee,
Sing fal de dill, dill de dill, dill.
Fal de dill, dill de dill, dee.
As he was a-riding along,
Along all on the highway,
A gentleman-thief overtook him,
And thus unto him he did say:
"O! well overtaken, old man,
O! well overtaken," said he:
"Thank you kindly, sir," says the old man,
"If you be for my company."
"How far are you going this way?"
It made the old man to smile;
"To tell you the truth, kind sir,
I'm just a-going twa mile.
"I am but a silly old man,
Who farms a piece of ground;
My half-year rent, kind sir,
Just comes to forty pound.
"But my landlord's not been at hame,
I've not seen him twelve month or more;
It makes my rent to be large,
I've just to pay him fourscore."
"You should not have told anybody,
For thieves they are ganging many;
If they were to light upon you
They would rob you of every penny."
"O! never mind," says the old man,
"Thieves I fear on no side;
My money is safe in my bags,
In the saddle on which I ride."
As they were a-riding along,
And riding a-down a ghyll,
The thief pulled out a pistol,
And bade the old man stand still.
(_ghyll_, ravine.)
The old man was crafty and false,
As in this world are many;
He flung his old saddle o'er t' hedge,
And said, "Fetch it, if thou'lt have any."
This thief got off his horse,
With courage stout and bold,
To search this old man's bags,
And gave him his horse to hold.
The old man put foot in stirrup,
And he got on astride;
He set the thief's horse in a gallop,--
You need not bid the old man ride!
"O, stay! O, stay!" says the thief,
"And thou half my share shalt have;"
"Nay, marry, not I," quoth the old man,
"For once I've bitten a knave!"
This thief he was not content,
He thought there must be bags,
So he up with his rusty sword,
And chopped the old saddle to rags.
The old man gallop'd and rode,
Until he was almost spent,
Till he came to his landlord's house,
And he paid him his whole year's rent.
He opened this rogue's portmantle,
It was glorious for to behold;
There was five hundred pound in money,
And other five hundred in gold.
His landlord it made him to stare,
When he did the sight behold;
"Where did thou get the white money,
And where get the yellow gold?"
"I met a fond fool by the way,
I swopped horses, and gave him no boot;
But never mind," says the old man,
"I got a fond fool by the foot."
"But now you're grown cramped and old,
Nor fit for to travel about;"
"O, never mind," says the old man,
"I can give these old bones a route!"
As he was a-riding hame,
And a-down a narrow lane,
He spied his mare tied to a tree,
And said, "Tib, thou'lt now gae hame."
And when that he got hame,
And told his old wife what he'd done:
She rose and she donned her clothes,
And about the house did run.
She sung, and she danced, and sung,
And she sung with a merry devotion,
"If ever our daughter gets wed,
It will help to enlarge her portion!"
THE WEEK'S WORK
|When I was a bachelor brave,
Enjoying all my soul could have,
My silver and guineas I then let fly,
I cock'd up my beaver, and who but I.
Fal, lal, &c.
I rov'd about, and I rov'd a while,
Till all the ladies seem'd to smile,
From the ladies of pleasure to royal Joan,
Both gentle and simple was all my own.
My rapier was made of the Bilbo blade,
My coat and waistcoat were overlaid
With silver spangles so neat and so gay,
As tho' I had been king of some country play.
Besides I had a flattering tongue,
The ladies admired me when I sung,
For I had a voice so charming and fine,
That every lady's heart was mine.
On Monday morning I married a wife,
And thought to have liv'd a sober life,
But as it fell out I had better been dead,
Then mark the time that I was wed.
On Tuesday morn to my surprise,
A little before the sun did rise,
She tun'd up her clapper, and scolded more,
Than ever I heard in my life before.
On Wednesday morn I went to the wood,
I thought in my heart she'd never be good,
I cut me a twig of the holly green,
I think 'twas the toughest ever seen,
I brought it home, and laid it by.
On Thursday I went the same to try,
And if she would no better be,
The devil might take her to-morrow, for me.
On Friday morn, to my surprise,
A little before the sun did rise,
She tun'd up her clapper in a scolding tune,
And now you shall hear we parted soon.
On Saturday morn, as I may say,
As she, on her pillow, consulting lay;
The devil came in the midst of the game,
And took her away both blind and lame.
On Sunday, friends, I can dine without
A scolding wife, or a brawling out,
Enjoying my bottle, and my best friend,
And is not this a noble week's-work end.
FARMER'S BOY
|The sun went down beyond yon hills,
Across yon dreary-moor,
Weary and lame, a boy there came,
Up to a farmer's door.
"Will you tell me if any there be
That will give me employ
To plough and sow, and reap and mow,
And be a farmer's boy?
"My fathers dead, and mothers left,
With her five children small,
And what is worst for mother still,
I'm the oldest of them all:
Though little I be yet I fear not work,
If you will me employ
To plough and sow, and reap and mow,
And be a farmer's boy.
"And if that you won't me employ,
One favour I have to ask,
Will you shelter me till break of day,
From this cold winter's blast:
At break of day, I'll trudge away,
Elsewhere to seek employ
To plough and sow, and reap and mow,
And be a farmer's boy."
The mistress said, "Pray take the lad,
No farther let him seek;"
"O yes, dear father," the daughter cried,
While tears ran down her cheeks,
"For those that will work it's hard to want,
And wander for employ
To plough and sow, and reap and mow,
And be a farmer's boy."
In course of time he grew a man
The good old farmer died,
And left the boy the farm he had,
And his daughter for his bride;
The boy that was the farm now has,
Oft smiles and thinks with joy,
Of the lucky day he came that way,
And to be a farmer's boy.
TOMMY LINN
|_Tommy Linn_ is a _Scotchman_ born,
His head is bald, and his beard is shorn,
He has a cap made of a hare skin,
An elderman is _Tommy Linn,_
_Tommy Linn_ has no boots to put on,
But two calves' skins, and the hair it was on,
They are open at the side and the water goes in,
"Unwholesome boots," says _Tommy Linn_.
_Tommy Linn_ has a mare of the gray,
Lam'd of all four as I hear say;
It has the farcy all over the skin,
"It's a running jade," says _Tommy Linn._
_Tommy Linn_ no bridle had to put on,
But two mouses' tails that he put on;
_Tommy Linn_ had no saddle to put on,
But two urchin skins, and them he put on.
_Tommy Linn_ went to yonder hall,
Went hipping and skipping among them all;
They ask'd what made him come so boldly in,
"I'm come a wooing," says _Tommy Linn_.
_Tommy Linn_ went to the church to be wed,
The bride followed after hanging down her head,
She hung down her cheeks, she hung down her chin,
"This is a glooming quean," says _Tommy Linn_.
_Tommy Linn's_ daughter sat on the stairs,
"Oh, dear father, gin I be not fair;"
The stairs they broke, and she fell in,
"You are fair enough now," says Tommy Linn.
(_quean_, lass.)
_Tommy Linn's_ daughter sat on the brig,
"Oh, dear father, gin I be not trig;"
The bridge it broke, and she fell in,
"You are trig enough now," says _Tommy Linn._
_Tommy Linn_, and his wife and his wife's mother,
They all fell into the fire together;
They that lay undermost got a hot skin,
"We are [hot] enough," says _Tommy Linn_.
(_trig_, neat.)
THE MERMAID
[Illustration: 0298]
|On Friday morning as we set sail,
It was not far from land,
O there I espied a fair pretty maid,
With a comb and a glass in her hand.
O the raging seas did roar,
And the stormy winds did blow,
While we poor sailors were up into the top,
And the land lubbers laid below.
Then up spoke a boy of our gallant ship,
And a well speaking boy was he,
"I've a father and mother in fair Portsmouth town,
And this night they will weep for me."
Then up spoke a man of our gallant ship,
And a well spoken man was he,
"I have married a wife in fair London town,
And this night a widow she shall be."
Then up spoke the captain of our gallant ship,
And a valiant man was he,
"For want of a boat we shall be drowned,"
For she sunk to the bottom of the sea.
The moon shone bright, and the stars gave light,
And my mother was looking for me,
She might look, and weep, with watery eyes,
She might look to the bottom of the sea.
Three times round went our gallant ship,
And three times round went she,
Three times round went our gallant ship,
Then she sunk to the bottom of the sea.
[Illustration: 0300]
CAPTAIN WARD AND THE RAINBOW
[Broadside.]
|Strike up, you lusty gallants,
With music and sound of drum,
For we have descried a rover
Upon the sea is come.
His name is Captain Ward,
Right well it doth appear
There has not been such a rover
Found out this thousand year.
For he hath sent unto the king,
The sixth of January,
Desiring that he might come in
With all his company:
"And if your king will let me come,
Till I my tale have told,
I will bestow for my ransom
Full thirty ton of gold."
"O nay, O nay," then said our king,
"O nay, this may not be,
To yield to such a rover,
Myself will not agree;
He hath deceived the Frenchman,.
Likewise the king of Spain,
And how can he be true to me
That hath been false to twain?"
With that our king provided
A ship of worthy fame,
Rainbow is she called,
If you would know her name.
Now the gallant Rainbow,
She roves upon the sea,
Five hundred gallant seamen
To bear her company.
The Dutchman, and the Spaniard,
She made them for to flee,
Also the bonny Frenchman,
As she met him on the sea.
When as this gallant Rainbow
Did come where Ward did lie,
"Where is the captain of this ship?"
This gallant Rainbow did cry.
"Oh, that am I," said Captain Ward,
"There's no man bids me lie;
And if thou art the king's fair ship,
Thou art welcome unto me."
"I tell thee what," says Rainbow,
"Our king is in great grief,
That thou shouldst lie upon the sea,
And play the arrant thief.
"And will not let our merchant ships
Pass as they did before;
Such tidings to our king is come,
Which grieves his heart full sore."
With that this gallant Rainbow
She shot out of her pride,
Full fifty gallant brass pieces,
Charged on every side.
And yet these gallant shooters,
Prevailed not a pin;
Though they were brass on the outside,
Brave Ward was steel within:
"Shoot on, shoot on/' says Captain Ward,
"Your sport well pleaseth me,
And he that first gives over
Shall yield unto the sea.
"I never wronged an English ship,
But Turk and king of Spain,
And the jovial Dutchman,
As I met on the main.
If I had known your king
But one two years before,
I would have saved brave Essex life,
Whose death did grieve me sore.
"Go tell the king of England,
Go tell him thus from me,
If he reign king of all the land,
I will reign king at sea."
With that the gallant Rainbow shot,
And shot, and shot in vain,
And left the rover's company,
And returned home again.
"Our royal king of England,
Your ship's returned again,
For Ward's ship is so strong
It never will be ta'en."
"O Everlasting," said our king,
"I have lost jewels three,
Which would have gone unto the wars,
And brought proud Ward to me."
The first was Lord Clifford,
Earl of Cumberland;
The second was Lord Mountjoy,
As you shall understand;
The third was brave Essex,
From field would never flee,
Which would agone unto the seas,
And brought proud Ward to me.
GREENLAND WHALE FISHERY
|We can no longer stay on shore,
Since we are so deep in debt;
So a voyage to Greenland we will go,
Some money for to get--brave boys.
Now when we lay at Liverpool,
Our good-like ship to man,
'Twas there our names were all wrote down,
And were bound for Greenland--brave boys.
In eighteen hundred and twenty-four,
On March the twenty-third,
We hoisted our colours up to our mast-head,
And for Greenland bore away--brave boys.
But when we came to Greenland,
Our good-like ship to moor,
O then we wish'd ourselves back again,
With our friends upon the shore--brave boys.
The boatswain went to the mast-head,
With his spy-glass in his hand,
"Here's a whale, a whale, a whale," he cried,
"And she blows on every spring--brave boys."
The Captain on the quarter deck,
(A very good man was he),
"Overhaul, overhaul, your boat tackle-fall,
And launch your boats to sea--brave boys."
The boats being launch'd and the hands got in,
The whale fishes appeared in view,
Resolved was the whole boat's crew
To steer where the whale fish blew--brave boys.
The whale being struck and the line paid on,
She gave a flash with her tail,
She capsized the boat and lost five men,
Nor did we catch the whale--brave boys.
Bad news unto our Captain brought,
That we had lost the 'prentice boys;
He hearing of the dreadful news,
His colours down did haul--brave boys.
The losing of this whale, brave boys,
Did grieve his heart full sore,
But losing of his five brave men,
Did grieve him ten times more--brave boys.
"Come, weigh your anchor, my brave boys,
For the winter star I see;
It is time we should leave this cold country
And for England bear away--brave boys."
For Greenland is a barren place,
Neither light nor day to be seen,
Nought but ice and snow where the whale fish blew
And the day-light's seldom seen--brave boys.
GOLDEN VANITEE
|Sir Walter Raleigh has built a ship
In the Netherlands;
And it is called the Sweet Trinity,
And was taken by the false Gallaly,
Sailing in the Lowlands.
Is there never a seaman bold
In the Netherlands?
That will go take this false Gallaly,
And to redeem the Sweet Trinity,
Sailing in the Lowlands.
Then spoke the little ship-boy
In the Netherlands;
"Master, master, what will you give me?
And I will take this false Gallaly,
And release the Sweet Trinity
Sailing in the Lowlands."
"I'll give thee gold, and I'll give thee fee,
In the Netherlands;
And my eldest daughter thy wife shall be,
Sailing in the Lowlands."
He set his breast and away he did swim,
In the Netherlands;
Until he came to the false Gallaly,
Sailing in the Lowlands.
He had an augur fit for the nonce
In the Netherlands;
The which will bore
Fifteen good holes at once,
Sailing in the Lowlands.
Some were at cards, and some at dice,
In the Netherlands;
Until the salt water flashed in their eyes,
Sailing in the Lowlands.
Some cut their hats, and some their caps,
In the Netherlands;
For to stop the salt-water gaps,
Sailing in the Lowlands.
He set his breast and away did swim,
In the Netherlands;
Until he came to his own ship again,
Sailing in the Lowlands.
"I have done the work I promised to do
In the Netherlands;
For I have sunk the false Gallaly,
And released the Sweet Trinity,
Sailing in the Lowlands.
"You promis'd me gold, and you promis'd me fee,
In the Netherlands;
Your eldest daughter my wife she must be,
Sailing in the Lowlands."
(_nonce_, occasion.)
"You shall have gold, and you shall have fee,
In the Netherlands;
But my eldest daughter your wife shall never be,
Sailing in the Lowlands."
"Then fare you well, you cozening Lord,
In the Netherlands;
Seeing you are not as good as your word,
For sailing in the Lowlands."
And thus shall I conclude my song
Of the sailing in the Lowlands;
Wishing happiness to all seamen, old and young,
In their sailing in the Lowlands.
THE YORKSHIRE HORSE-DEALER
|Near to Clapham town-gate lived an old Yorkshire tike,
Who in dealing in horseflesh had ne'er met his like;
'Twas his pride that in all the hard bargains he'd hit,
He'd bit a great many, but never been bit.
(_town-gate_, high road.)
This old Tommy Tavers (by that name he was known),
Had an old carrion bit that was sheer skin and bone;
To have killed him for the curs would have been quite as well,
But 'twas Tommy's opinion he'd die of himsel.
Well! one Abey Muggins, a neighbouring cheat,
Thought to diddle old Tommy would be a great treat;
He'd a horse, too, 'twas worse than old Tommy's, you see,
Fortnight afore that he'd thought proper to dee!
Thinks Abey, th' old codger'll never smoke t' trick,
I'll swop with him my poor dead horse for his quick,
And if Tommy I nobbut can happen to trap,
'Twill be a fine feather in Aberram cap.
So to Tommy he goes and to Tommy he pops:
"Between my horse and thine, prithee, Tommy, what swops?
What will give me to boot? for mines t' better horse still!"
"Nought," says Tommy, "I'll swop even hands, an ye will."
(_nobbut,_ only.)
Abbey preached a long time about something to boot,
Insisting that his was the liveliest brute;
But Tommy stuck fast where he first had begun,
Till Abey shook hands, and said, "Well Tommy, done."
"O! Tommy," said Abey, "I'se sorry for thee,
I thought thou'd a hadden more white in thy ee;
Good luck's in thy bargain, for my horse is
dead"--
"Hey," says Tommy, "my lad, so is mine, an it's flayed."
So Tommy got t' better of t' bargain, a vast,
And came off with a Yorkshireman's triumph at last;
For though 'twixt dead horses there's not much to choose
Yet Tommy was richer by the hide and four shoes.
[Illustration: 0311]
WIDDICOMBE FAIR
|Tom Pearse, Tom Pearse, lend me your grey
mare,
All along, down along, out along, lee;
For I want for to go to Widdicombe fair,
Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney,
Peter Davy, Dan'l Whiddon,
Harry Hawk, Old Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and all,"
Old Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and all.
"And when shall I see again my grey mare?"
All along, &c.
"By Friday soon, or Saturday noon,"
Wi' Bill Brewer, &c.
Then Friday came, and Saturday noon,
All along, &c.
But Tom Pearses old mare hath not trotted
home,
Wi' Bill Brewer, &c.
So Tom Pearse he got up to the top o' the hill,
All along, &c.
And he see'd his old mare down a-making her will
Wi' Bill Brewer, &c.
So Tom Pearse's old mare, her took sick and died,
All along, &c.
And Tom he sat down on a stone, and he cried
Wi' Bill Brewer, &c.
And now that Tom Pearse's old grey mare is dead
All along, &c.
They all did agree that she should be buried
Wi' Bill Brewer, &c.
But this isn't the end o' this shocking affair,
All along, &c.
Nor, though they be dead, of the horrid career
Of Bill Brewer, &c.
When the wind whistles cold on the moor of a night,
All along, &c.
Tom Pearse's old mare doth appear, gashly white,
Wi' Bill Brewer, &c.
And all the long night be heard skirling and groans,
All along, down along, out along, lee;
From Tom Pearse's old mare in her rattling bones,
And from Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter
Gurney, Peter Davy, Dan'l Whiddon,
Harry Hawk, Old Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and all,
Old Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and all.
LAZARUS
|As it fell out upon one day,
Rich Diverus he made a feast;
And he invited all his friends,
And gentry of the best.
And it fell out upon one day,
Poor Lazarus he was so poor,
He came and laid him down and down,
Ev'n down at Diverus' door.
So Lazarus laid him down and down,
Ev'n down at Diverus' door;
"Some meat, some drink, brother Diverus,
Do bestow upon the poor.''