That I may see my father’s ships and see they are secure,
Provisions we have plenty, and lots of grog in store,
So drink good health you sailors, to my jolly roving Tar.
She quickly jumped into the boat and merrily left the land,
And as the sailors rowed away, she wav’d her lily hand,
Farewell ye girls of Liverpool, I fear no wound nor scar,
And away went pretty Susan to her jolly roving Tar.
[Illustration]
_YOUNG HENRY OF THE RAGING MAIN._
ON a summer’s morn the day was dawning,
Down by the pleasant river side,
I saw a brisk and lovely maiden,
And a youth called “England’s Pride”!
He was a tight and smart young sailor,
Tears from his eyes did fall like rain,
Saying, adieu, my lovely Emma,
I’m going to plough the raging main.
Cried Emma--Henry will you leave me
Behind, my sorrow to complain?
For your sweet features, lovely Henry,
I may ne’er behold again!
See, Emma dear, our ship’s weighed anchor,
Tis folly, Love, for to complain,
Though you I leave, I’ll ne’er deceive you,
I’m bound to plough the raging main.
Said Emma, Stay a little longer,
Stay at home with your true love,
But, if you enter, I will venture,
I swear by all the powers above!
I’ll venture with my lovely Henry,
Perhaps great honour I may attain,
She cried, I’ll enter and boldly venture
With Henry on the raging main.
Cried Henry,--Love, don’t be distracted,
Perhaps you may be cast away,
’Tis for that reason, cried young Emma,
That behind I will not stay.
I’ll dress myself in man’s apparel,
So, dearest Henry, don’t complain,
In jacket blue, and tarry trousers,
I will plough the raging main.
Then on board the brig Eliza,
Henry and his Emma went;
She did her duty like a sailor,
And with her lover was content.
Her pretty hands, once soft as velvet,
With pitch and tar appeared in pain,
Though her hands were soft, she went aloft,
And boldly ploughed the raging main.
The Eliza brig was bound for India,
And ’ere she had three weeks set sail,
From land, or light, one stormy night,
It blew a bitter, and heavy gale.
Undaunted, up aloft went Emma,
’Midst thunder, lightning, wind and rain,
With courage true, in a blue jacket,
Did Emma plough the raging main.
Twelve hours long the tempest lasted,
At length quite calm it did appear,
And they proceeded on their voyage,
Emma, and her true love dear.
When just two years they’d been sailing,
To England they returned again,
And no one did suspect young Emma,
Ploughing on the watery main.
IN England, and, for the matter of that, on the Continent as well,
since this century was born, some trifle has tickled the people,
and has been reiterated, until every catch-word has become a
nuisance. In the early part of the century, for instance, “Has your
mother sold her mangle?” “Does your mother know you’re out?” and,
“Before you could say Jack Robinson” (which has passed into a
recognized saying), were in everyone’s mouth. It is not often that
these catch-words can be traced to their origin, but the latter
seems to have arisen in the Ballad of
_JACK ROBINSON_.
THE perils and the dangers of the voyage past,
And the ship at Portsmouth arrived at last.
The sails all furled and the anchor cast,
The happiest of the crew was Jack Robinson.
For his Poll he had trinkets and gold galore,
Besides Prize Money quite a store,
And along with the crew, he went ashore,
As Coxwain to the boat, Jack Robinson.
He met with a man, and said, “I say,
Perhaps you may know one Polly Gray?
She lives somewhere hereabout:” the man said, “nay,
I do not indeed,” to Jack Robinson.
So says Jack to him, “I have left my ship,
And all my messmates, they gave me the slip.
Mayhap you’ll partake of a good can of flip?
For you’re a good sort of fellow,” says Jack Robinson.
In a public-house, then, they both sat down,
And talked of Admirals of high renown,
And drank as much grog as came to half a crown,
This here strange man and Jack Robinson.
Then Jack call’d out the reckoning to pay,
The landlady came in, in fine array,
“My eyes, and limbs, why here’s Polly Gray!
Who’d thought of meeting here?” says Jack Robinson.
The landlady staggered against the wall,
And said, at first, she didn’t know him at all,
“Shiver me,” says Jack, “why here’s a pretty squall,
D----n me, don’t you know me? I’m Jack Robinson!
Don’t you remember this handkerchief you giv’d me?
’Twas three years ago, before I went to sea,
Every day I’ve looked at it, and then I thought of thee,
Upon my soul, I have,” says Jack Robinson.
Says the lady, says she “I have changed my state.”
“Why! you don’t mean,” says Jack, “that you’ve got a mate?
You know you promised----” Says she, “I could not wait,
For no tidings could I gain of you, Jack Robinson,
And somebody, one day, came up to me and said,
That somebody else, had somewhere read
In some newspaper, as how you were dead.”
“I’ve not been dead at all,” says Jack Robinson.
Then he turn’d his quid, and finish’d his glass,
Hitch’d up his trousers, “Alas! alas!
That ever I should live to be made such an ass!
To be bilked by a woman,” says Jack Robinson.
“But to fret and to stew about it’s all in vain,
I’ll get a ship and go to Holland, France and Spain,
No matter where, to Portsmouth I’ll ne’er come again.”
And he was off before you could say Jack Robinson.
HERE is a variation, such as I never met with before, of the
time-honoured Ballad of
_BOLD WILLIAM TAYLOR_.[47]
I’LL sing you a song about two lovers,
Who from Lichfield town did come,
The young man’s name was William Taylor,
The maiden’s name was Sarah Naylor.
Now for a Sailor William enlisted,
Now for a Sailor William’s gone,
He’s gone and left his charming Sally,
All alone, which made her mourn.
She dressed herself in man’s apparel,
Man’s apparel she put on,
And set out to seek her own true lover,
For to find him she is gone.
One day she was exercising,
Exercising among the rest,
A silver locket flew from her jacket,
And exposed her milk-white breast.
O, then the Captain stept up to her,
And asked her, what brought her there
All for to seek for my own true lover,
For he has proved to me severe.
If you are come to find your lover,
You must tell to me his name,
His name it is bold William Taylor,
And from Lichfield town he came.
If your lover’s name is William Taylor,
He has proved to you severe,
He is married to a rich lady,
He was married the other year.
If you’ll rise early in the morning,
In the morning by break of day,
There you’ll see bold William Taylor,
Walking with his lady gay.
Then she called for a brace of pistols,
A brace of pistols I command,
And then she shot bold William Taylor
With his bride at his right hand.
O, then the captain was well pleaséd,
Well pleaséd with what she’d done,
And soon she became a bold commander,
On board a ship of all her own men.
Then the Captain loved her dearly,
Loved her dearly as his life,
And it was but three days after,
Sarah became the Captain’s wife.
[Illustration]
_RATCLIFFE HIGHWAY IN 1842._
YOU jolly sailors list to me,
I’ve been a fortnight home from sea,
Which time I’ve rambled night and day,
To have a lark on the Highway.
_Chorus._
Listen, you jovial sailors gay,
To the rigs of Ratcliffe Highway.
Some lasses their heads will toss,
With bustles as big as a brewer’s horse,
Some wear a cabbage net called veil,
And a boa just like a buffalo’s tail.
I married a lass with her face so red,
She eat three salt herrings and a bullock’s head,
She danced a jig, then began to sing,
Drank a gallon of beer, and a pint of gin.
I have sailed, indeed, all over the world,
And never before my flag unfurled,
In India, China, and Bungo bay,
As the spot we call Ratcliffe Highway.
One night a lady did me drag,
To have a spree at the Lamb and Flag.
There she got drunk, and got in a row,
And sold her shoes at the Barley Mow.
There is eels and shrimps as black as fleas,
And a covey a selling blue grey peas,
There’s ugly Bet, and Dandy Jane,
At the King William in Gravel Lane.
Yes! you’ll see some girls as smart and neat,
As the Dowager Queen of Otaheite,
There’s every colour, indeed ’tis true,
Green, black and purple, yellow and blue.
I went one night to have a reel
At the Angel tap in Blue Coat Fields,
I danced, and capered, and sung a song,
And married a lady they call Miss Long.
I fell in with a lady so modest and meek,
She eat thirteen faggots, and nine pigs feet,
Three pounds of beef, and to finish the meal,
Eat eight pounds of tripe, and a large cow heel.
I met with another borne down with fear,
She guzzled down thirteen pots of beer,
She threw up her heels and play’d the deuce,
And broke her nose at the Paddy’s Goose.
You jovial sailors, one and all,
When you in the port of London call,
Mind Ratcliffe Highway and the Damsels loose,
The William, the Bear, and the Paddy Goose.
_Chorus._
You sailors bold my song obtain,
And learn it on the raging main.
_THE GREENLAND WHALE FISHERY._
WE can no longer stay on shore,
Since we’re 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 we’re 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,
Oh, then we wished 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 whale 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 this 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.[48]
Come, weigh your anchors, my brave boys,
For the winter star I see,
It’s 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 blow,
And the daylight seldom seen--brave boys.
_THE NEW YORK TRADER._
TO a New York Trader, I did belong,
She was well built, both stout and strong,
Well rigg’d, well mann’d, well fit for sea,
Bound to New York in America.
On the first of March then did we sail,
With a sweet, and a pleasant gale,
Like hearts undaunted, we put to sea,
Bound to New York in America.
Our cruel Captain as we did find,
Left half of our provisions behind,
Our cruel captain, as we did understand,
Meant to starve us all, before we made the land.
At length our hunger grew very great,
We had but little on board to eat,
And we were in necessity,
All by our Captain’s cruelty.
Our Captain in his cabin lay,
A voice came to him, and thus he did say,
Prepare yourself and ship’s company,
For to-morrow night with me you shall lay.
Our Captain woke in a terrible fright,
It being about the first watch of the night,
Aloud for the boatswain, he straightly did call,
And to him related the secret all.
Boatswain, said he, it grieves me to the heart,
To think that I’ve acted a villain’s part,
To take what was not my lawful due
To starve my passengers and the ship’s crew.
There’s one thing more I have to tell,
When I in Waterford town did dwell,
I killed my master, a merchant there,
All for the sake of his lady fair.
I killed my wife and children three,
All through that cursed jealousy,
And on my servant I laid the blame,
And hang’d he was, all for the same.
Captain, said he, if that be so,
Pray, let none of your ship’s crew know,
But keep the secret within your breast,
And pray to God to give you rest.
Early next morning a storm did rise,
Which our seamen did much surprize.
The sea was over us, both fore and aft,
That scarce a man on deck was left.
Then the boatswain he did declare
That our Captain was a murderer,
It so enraged all the ship’s crew,
They overboard the Captain threw.
When this was done, a calm was there,
Our good-like ship homeward did steer,
The wind abated and calmed the sea,
And they sailed safe to America.
When we came to anchor there,
Our good-like ship for to repair,
The people wondered much to see
What a poor distress’d big wreck were we.
_VIVA VICTORIA._
ROUSE ye lovers of peace and order,
Of true freedom, with honour united,
Rally round the old banner of union,
And its glory shall never be blighted.
We have bold hearts in British dominions,
Who dare all a freeman should dare,
But the Throne and the Queen be our watchword,
And let traitors and foemen beware.
Viva Victoria! Viva Victoria!
Strength to the throne! health to the Queen!
Viva Victoria!
We’ll have peace, but it must be with honour,
We have no need of new names in story,
But if war sounds the tocsin, then Britain,
Still has heroes enough for her glory.
Shame the Brawlers, who trade in sedition,
Misleaders, who traffic in lies,
And beware, lest those self-seeking martyrs,
Would-be-lions, prove wolves in disguise.
Viva Victoria! etc.
By the head, or the hand, if it toileth,
May the honest man live by his labour,
But the drone who can work and won’t work,
Shall not rest on the strength of his neighbour.
To the Throne, as the safeguard of freedom,
By our birthright allegiance we swear,
For the Queen is the Monarch of Freedom,
To the King of all be our prayer.
Viva Victoria! etc.
_QUEEN VICTORIA._[49]
WELCOME now, VICTORIA!
Welcome to the throne!
May all the trades begin to stir,
Now you are Queen of England;
For your most gracious Majesty,
May see what wretched poverty,
Is to be found on England’s ground,
Now you are Queen of England.
While o’er the country you preside,
Providence will be your guide,
The people then will never chide
Victoria, Queen of England.
She doth declare it her intent
To extend reform in Parliament,
On doing good she’s firmly bent,
While she is Queen of England.
Says she, I’ll try my utmost skill,
That the poor may have their fill;
Forsake them!--no, I never will,
When I am Queen of England.
For oft my mother said to me,
Let this your study always be,
To see the people blest and free,
Should you be Queen of England.
And now, my daughter, you do reign,
Much opposition to sustain,
You’ll surely have, before you gain
The blessings of Old England.
O yes, dear mother, that is true,
I know my sorrows won’t be few,
Poor people shall have work to do,
When I am Queen of England.
I will encourage every trade,
For their labour must be paid,
In this free country then she said,
Victoria, Queen of England;
That poor-law bill, with many more,
Shall be trampled on the floor--
The rich must keep the helpless poor,
While I am Queen of England.
The Royal Queen of Britain’s isle
Soon will make the people smile,
Her heart none can the least defile,
Victoria, Queen of England.
Although she is of early years,
She is possess’d of tender cares,
To wipe away the orphan’s tears,
While she is Queen of England.
With joy each Briton doth exclaim,
Both far and near across the main,
Victoria we now proclaim
The Royal Queen of England;
Long may she live, and happy be,
Adorn’d with robes of Royalty,
With blessings from her subjects free,
While she is Queen of England.
In every town and village gay,
The bells shall ring, and music play,
Upon her Coronation-day,
Victoria, Queen of England.
While her affections we do win,
And every day fresh blessings bring,
Ladies, help me for to sing,
Victoria, Queen of England.
_THE QUEEN’S MARRIAGE._[50]
A SUBJECT I want for a song, do you see,
So Her Majesty, look you, my subject shall be;
Nay there I am wrong, so my Muse here avers,
_My_ “subject” she can’t be, because I am _hers_!
Forgive me, I beg, if with words I do play,
And hear a plain man in his own queer plain way,
And still to my errors in mercy pray lean,
While the wedding I sing of our glorious Queen!
_Chorus._
Our cups to the dregs in a health let us drain,
And with them a long and a prosperous reign,
Like good loyal subjects in loud chorus sing,
Victoria’s wedding with Albert her King.
Many suitors the Queen’s had of class, clime, and creed,
But each failed to make an impression, indeed;
For, for Albert of Coburg, the rest off she packs,
Thus “giving the _bag_” each, and keeping “the Saxe!”
A fortunate fellow he is, all must say,
And right well his _cards_ he has managed to play,
The _game_ he has won, and no wonder, I ween,
When he played “Speculation,” and turn’d up _the Queen_.
A hundred thousand a year he may get,
For taking the Queen, which is something to wit;
_I_ myself had “proposed” had I known it, that’s flat,
For I’d willingly take her for much less than that.
Even yet, if her Majesty _should_ chance to scoff
At the bargain she’s made, and the matter break off,
I’ll instantly seek her, and lay my mind down,
And offer to take her, at just--_half a crown_!
Since the Queen did herself for a husband “propose,”
The ladies will all do the same I suppose;
Their days of subserviency now will be past,
For all will speak _first_, as they always did _last_!
Since the Queen has no equal, “obey,” none she need,
So, of course, at the Altar, from such vow she’s freed;
And the women will all follow suit, so they say--
“Love, honour,” they’ll promise, but never “obey.”
Those will now wed, who ne’er wedded before,
Those who always wedded, will now wed the more;
Clerks will no time have, to lunch, dine, or sup,
And parsons, just now will begin to _look up_!
To churches, indeed, this will be a God-send,
Goldsmiths be selling off _rings without end_!
For now you’ll not find from Castle to Cot,
A _single_ man living, who _married_ is not.
But hence with all quibbling, for now I have done,
Though all I have said has been purely in fun;
May the Queen and the King shine like Venus and Mars,
And Heaven _preserve_ them without any _jars_!
Like Danaë of old may we see it plain,
Till time is no more, these bright _sovereigns rain_:[51]
May pleasure and joy through their lives know no bounds,
So let’s give them a _toast_, and make it _three rounds_.
_A NEW SONG ON THE BIRTH OF THE PRINCE OF WALES._[52]
THERE’S a pretty fuss and bother both in country and in town,
Since we have got a present, and an heir unto the Crown,
A little Prince of Wales so charming and so sly,
And the ladies shout with wonder, What a pretty little boy!
He must have a little musket, a trumpet and a kite,
A little penny rattle, and silver sword so bright,
A little cap and feather with scarlet coat so smart,
And a pretty little hobby horse to ride about the park.
Prince Albert he will often take the young Prince on his lap,
And fondle him so lovingly while he stirs about the pap,
He will pin on his flannel before he takes his nap,
Then dress him out so stylish with his little clouts and cap.
He must have a dandy suit to strut about the town,
John Bull must rake together six or seven thousand pound,
You’d laugh to see his daddy, at night he homewards runs,
With some peppermint or lollipops, sweet cakes and sugar plums.
He will want a little fiddle, and a little German flute,
A little pair of stockings and a pretty pair of boots,
With a handsome pair of spurs, and a golden headed cane,
And a stick of barley sugar, as long as Drury Lane.
An old maid ran through the palace, which did the nobs surprize,
Bawling out, he’s got his daddy’s mouth, his mammy’s nose and eyes,
He will be as like his daddy as a frigate to a ship,
If he’d only got mustachios upon his upper lip.
Now to get these little niceties the taxes must be rose,
For the little Prince of Wales wants so many suits of clothes,
So they must tax the frying pan, the windows and the doors,
The bedsteads and the tables, kitchen pokers, and the floors.
_THE QUEEN AND THE COAL EXCHANGE._
YOU lads and you lasses so gay,
Now keep yourselves tidy and sober,
And never forget the grand day,
The thirtieth day of October.[53]
When the QUEEN and Prince ALBERT so grand,
With their dear little sons and their daughter,
Will all get in a boat at Whitehall,
And go down to the city by water,
To open the New Coal Exchange.
To tell you about the concern,
It is Queen VICTORIA’S desire then,
Her pocket is got very low,
Through her journey to Scotland and Ireland.[54]
To see them along go so gay,
Throw open your doors and your windows,
A coal shed they’ve took, so they say,
To retail Newcastles and cinders,
A coal porter Albert will be.
Such a sight sure there has not been seen,
Believe me my friends there has never,
As there is to see England’s Queen,
In a collier so gay on the river.
Not a gun must be fired that day,
Not a barge nor a boat must be stopping,
But they must be all cleared away,
Three miles and a half below Wapping.
Won’t that be a glorious sight!
The Dukes, Lords and Ladies so gay,
Will whistle and sing when they’ve started,
And when they arrive near the key,
They will anchor near Billingsgate Market.
And then all on shore they will go,
To be gazed at by wise folk and simple,
Where they’ll have a good blow out of crabs,
Of oysters, red herrings and winkles.
Move on and get out of the way.
To receive them will be the Lord Mayor,
And his lady, as sweet as a myrtle,
Lots of Aldermen too will be there,
To treat her with salmon and turtle.
At the Custom House Pier they will stand,
And the citizens gay will receive her,
And make ALBERT, as we understand
An out and out stunning coalheaver,
Such wonders we never did see.
To the brim they will fill up a sack,
And drink a good health to the nation,
Then clap it on Prince ALBERT’S back,
What a change it will be in his station.
There will be dukes and earls too,
Coal merchants, silk weavers and wasters,
When AL will put on his smock frock,
Knee breeches, white stockings and gaiters,
A coal porter ALBERT will be.
Let us hope they will have a good trade,
And be able to flare up like flinders,
There’s many a fortune been made
By wetting the coals and the cinders.
Prince ALBERT will not be compelled
To carry the sacks, but he’d rather,
And the young PRINCE OF WALES will be there,
For to measure the coals for his father.
Seven pounds for a penny, good weight.
So now to conclude, my good friends,
If it won’t be a sight, it’s a pity,
The QUEEN and her husband so fine,
And her children, all down in the City.
The colliers drest all in their best,
At the Custom House wait to receive her,
Here’s a health to Victoria so grand,
And Prince ALBERT the slashing coalheaver,
A dealer in Newcastle coals.
_CRYSTAL PALACE._
BRITANNIA’S sons an attentive ear
One moment lend to me,
Whether tillers of our fruitful soil,
Or lords of high degree.
Mechanic too, and artizan,
Old England’s pride and boast,
Whose wondrous skill has spread around,
Far, far from Britain’s coast.
_Chorus._
For the World’s great Exhibition,
Let’s shout with loud huzza,
All nations never can forget,
The glorious first of May.
From every quarter of the Globe,
They come across the sea,
And to the Chrystal Palace
The wonders for to see;
Raised by the handiwork of men
Born on British ground,
A challenge to the Universe
It’s equal to be found.
Each friendly nation in the world,
Have their assistance lent,
And to this Exhibition
Have their productions sent.
And with honest zeal and ardour,
With pleasure do repair,
With hands outstretch’d, and gait erect,
To the World’s Great National Fair.
The Sons of England and France
And America likewise,
With other nations to contend,
To bear away the prize.
With pride depicted in their eyes,
View the offspring of their hand,
O, surely England’s greatest wealth,
Is an honest working man.
It is a glorious sight to see
So many thousands meet,
Not heeding creed or country,
Each other friendly greet.
Like children of one mighty sire,
May that sacred tie ne’er cease,
May the blood stain’d sword of War give way
To the Olive branch of Peace.
But hark! the trumpets flourish,
Victoria does approach,
That she may long be spared to us
Shall be our reigning toast.
I trust each heart, it will respond,
To what I now propose--
Good will and plenty to her friends,
And confusion to her foes.