[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:-
'The King of Heaven a warrant got,
And sealed it without delay,
And he did give the same to Death,
For him to serve straightway,' &c.]
- Upon a time when Titan's steeds were driven
- To drench themselves beneath the western heaven;
- And sable Morpheus had his curtains spread,
- And silent night had laid the world to bed;
- 'Mongst other night-birds which did seek for prey,
- A blunt exciseman, which abhorred the day,
- Was rambling forth to seek himself a booty
- 'Mongst merchant's goods which had not paid the duty;
- But walking all alone, Death chanced to meet him,
- And in this manner did begin to greet him.
- Death.
- Stand, who comes here? what means this knave to peep
- And skulk abroad, when honest men should sleep?
- Speak, what's thy name? and quickly tell me this,
- Whither thou goest, and what thy business is?
- Exciseman.
- Whate'er my business is, thou foul-mouthed scold,
- I'd have you know I scorn to be controlled
- By any man that lives; much less by thou,
- Who blurtest out thou know'st not what, nor how;
- I go about my lawful business; and
- I'll make you smart for bidding of me stand.
- Death.
- Imperious coxcomb! is your stomach vexed?
- Pray slack your rage, and hearken what comes next:
- I have a writ to take you up; therefore,
- To chafe your blood, I bid you stand, once more.
- Exciseman.
- A writ to take me up! excuse me, sir,
- You do mistake, I am an officer
- In public service, for my private wealth;
- My business is, if any seek by stealth
- To undermine the state, I do discover
- Their falsehood; therefore hold your hand, - give over.
- Death.
- Nay, fair and soft! 'tis not so quickly done
- As you conceive it is: I am not gone
- A jot the sooner for your hasty chat,
- Nor bragging language; for I tell you flat
- 'Tis more than so, though fortune seem to thwart us,
- Such easy terms I don't intend shall part us.
- With this impartial arm I'll make you feel
- My fingers first, and with this shaft of steel
- I'll peck thy bones! As thou alive wert hated,
- So dead, to dogs thou shalt be segregated.
- Exciseman.
- I'd laugh at that; I would thou didst but dare
- To lay thy fingers on me; I'd not spare
- To hack thy carcass till my sword was broken,
- I'd make thee eat the words which thou hast spoken;
- All men should warning take by thy transgression,
- How they molested men of my profession.
- My service to the State is so well known,
- That should I but complain, they'd quickly own
- My public grievances; and give me right
- To cut your ears, before tomorrow night.
- Death.
- Well said, indeed! but bootless all, for I
- Am well acquainted with thy villany;
- I know thy office, and thy trade is such,
- Thy service little, and thy gains are much:
- Thy brags are many; but 'tis vain to swagger,
- And think to fight me with thy gilded dagger:
- As I abhor thy person, place, and thread,
- So now I'll bring thee to the judgment-seat.
- Exciseman.
- The judgment-seat! I must confess that word
- Doth cut my heart, like any sharpened sword:
- What! come t' account! methinks the dreadful sound
- Of every word doth make a mortal wound,
- Which sticks not only in my outward skin,
- But penetrates my very soul within.
- 'Twas least of all my thoughts that ever Death
- Would once attempt to stop excisemen's breath.
- But since 'tis so, that now I do perceive
- You are in earnest, then I must relieve
- Myself another way: come, we'll be friends;
- If I have wronged thee, I'll make th' amends.
- Let's join together; I'll pass my word this night
- Shall yield us grub, before the morning light.
- Or otherwise (to mitigate my sorrow),
- Stay here, I'll bring you gold enough to-morrow.
- Death.
- To-morrow's gold I will not have; and thou
- Shalt have no gold upon to-morrow: now
- My final writ shall to th' execution have thee,
- All earthly treasure cannot help or save thee.
- Exciseman.
- Then woe is me! ah! how was I befooled!
- I thought that gold (which answereth all things) could
- Have stood my friend at any time to bail me!
- But grief grows great, and now my trust doth fail me.
- Oh! that my conscience were but clear within,
- Which now is racked with my former sin;
- With horror I behold my secret stealing,
- My bribes, oppression, and my graceless dealing;
- My office-sins, which I had clean forgotten,
- Will gnaw my soul when all my bones are rotten:
- I must confess it, very grief doth force me,
- Dead or alive, both God and man doth curse me.
- Let all Excisemen hereby warning take,
- To shun their practice for their conscience sake.
[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 sung,
and the curious custom of riding through the fair, seated in boats,
still continues to be observed.]
- Come, come, my boys, with a hearty glee,
- To Fairlop fair, bear chorus with me;
- At Hainault forest is known very well,
- This famous oak has long bore the bell.
- Cho. Let music sound as the boat goes round,
- If we tumble on the ground, we'll be merry, I'll be bound;
- We will booze it away, dull care we will defy,
- And be happy on the first Friday in July.
- At Tainhall forest, Queen Anne she did ride,
- And beheld the beautiful oak by her side,
- And after viewing it from bottom to top,
- She said that her court should be at Fairlop.
- It is eight fathom round, spreads an acre of ground,
- They plastered it round to keep the tree sound.
- So we'll booze it away, dull care we'll defy,
- And be happy on the first Friday in July.
- About a century ago, as I have heard say,
- This fair it was kept by one Daniel Day,
- A hearty good fellow as ever could be,
- His coffin was made of a limb of the tree.
- With black-strap and perry he made his friends merry,
- All sorrow for to drown with brandy and sherry.
- So we'll booze it away, dull care we'll defy,
- And be happy on the first Friday in July.
- At Tainhall forest there stands a tree,
- And it has performed a wonderful bounty,
- It is surrounded by woods and plains,
- The merry little warblers chant their strains.
- So we'll dance round the tree, and merry we will be,
- Every year we'll agree the fair for to see;
- And we'll booze it away, dull care we'll defy,
- And be happy on the first Friday in July.
[Mr Denham of Piersbridge, who communicates the following, says -
'there is no question that the Farmer's Boy 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 Farmers' Sons, Plough Boys, Milk
Maids, Farmers' Boys, &c. &c. The song is popular all over the
country, and there are numerous printed copies, ancient and
modern.]
- The sun had set behind yon hills,
- Across yon dreary moor,
- Weary and lame, a boy there came
- Up to a farmer's door:
- 'Can you tell me if any there be
- That will give me employ,
- To plow and sow, and reap and mow,
- And be a farmer's boy?
- 'My father is dead, and mother is left
- With five children, great and small;
- And what is worse for mother still,
- I'm the oldest of them all.
- Though little, I'll work as hard as a Turk,
- If you'll give me employ,
- To plow and sow, and reap and mow,
- And be a farmer's boy.
- 'And if that you won't me employ,
- One favour I've 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 plow and sow, and reap and mow,
- And be a farmer's boy.'
- 'Come, try the lad,' the mistress said,
- 'Let him no further seek.'
- 'O, do, dear father!' the daughter cried,
- While tears ran down her cheek:
- 'He'd work if he could, so 'tis hard to want food,
- And wander for employ;
- Don't turn him away, but let him stay,
- And be a farmer's boy.'
- And when the lad became a man,
- The good old farmer died,
- And left the lad the farm he had,
- And his daughter for his bride.
- The lad that was, the farm now has,
- Oft smiles, and thinks with joy
- Of the lucky day he came that way,
- To be a farmer's boy.
[This song, familiar to the dwellers in the dales of Yorkshire, was
published in 1729, in the Vocal Miscellany; A Collection of About
Four Hundred Celebrated Songs. As the Miscellany 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
British Musical Miscellany, or The Delightful Grove, 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
A Mad Kinde of Wooing; or, A Dialogue Between Will the Simple and
Nan the Subtill, With Their Loving Argument. To the tune of the
New Dance at the Red Bull Playhouse. Printed by the assignees of
Thomas Symcock.]
- 'Sweet Nelly! my heart's delight!
- Be loving, and do not slight
- The proffer I make, for modesty's sake:-
- I honour your beauty bright.
- For love, I profess, I can do no less,
- Thou hast my favour won:
- And since I see your modesty,
- I pray agree, and fancy me,
- Though I'm but a farmer's son.
- 'No! I am a lady gay,
- 'Tis very well known I may
- Have men of renown, in country or town;
- So! Roger, without delay,
- Court Bridget or Sue, Kate, Nancy, or Prue,
- Their loves will soon be won;
- But don't you dare to speak me fair,
- As if I were at my last prayer,
- To marry a farmer's son.'
- 'My father has riches' store,
- Two hundred a year, and more;
- Beside sheep and cows, carts, harrows, and ploughs;
- His age is above threescore.
- And when he does die, then merrily I
- Shall have what he has won;
- Both land and kine, all shall be thine,
- If thou'lt incline, and wilt be mine,
- And marry a farmer's son.'
- 'A fig for your cattle and corn!
- Your proffered love I scorn!
- 'Tis known very well, my name is Nell,
- And you're but a bumpkin born.'
- 'Well! since it is so, away I will go, -
- And I hope no harm is done;
- Farewell, adieu! - I hope to woo
- As good as you, - and win her, too,
- Though I'm but a farmer's son.'
- 'Be not in such haste,' quoth she,
- 'Perhaps we may still agree;
- For, man, I protest I was but in jest!
- Come, prythee sit down by me;
- For thou art the man that verily can
- Win me, if e'er I'm won;
- Both straight and tall, genteel withal;
- Therefore, I shall be at your call,
- To marry a farmer's son.'
- 'Dear lady! believe me now
- I solemnly swear and vow,
- No lords in their lives take pleasure in wives,
- Like fellows that drive the plough:
- For whatever they gain with labour and pain,
- They don't with 't to harlots run,
- As courtiers do. I never knew
- A London beau that could outdo
- A country farmer's son.'
[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.]
- The day was spent, the moon shone bright,
- The village clock struck eight;
- Young Mary hastened, with delight,
- Unto the garden-gate:
- But what was there that made her sad? -
- The gate was there, but not the lad,
- Which made poor Mary say and sigh,
- 'Was ever poor girl so sad as I?'
- She traced the garden here and there,
- The village clock struck nine;
- Which made poor Mary sigh, and say,
- 'You shan't, you shan't be mine!
- You promised to meet at the gate at eight,
- You ne'er shall keep me, nor make me wait,
- For I'll let all such creatures see,
- They ne'er shall make a fool of me!'
- She traced the garden here and there,
- The village clock struck ten;
- Young William caught her in his arms,
- No more to part again:
- For he'd been to buy the ring that day,
- And O! he had been a long, long way; -
- Then, how could Mary cruel prove,
- To banish the lad she so dearly did love?
- Up with the morning sun they rose,
- To church they went away,
- And all the village joyful were,
- Upon their wedding-day:
- Now in a cot, by a river side,
- William and Mary both reside;
- And she blesses the night that she did wait
- For her absent swain, at the garden-gate.
[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.]
- A wealthy young squire of Tamworth, we hear,
- He courted a nobleman's daughter so fair;
- And for to marry her it was his intent,
- All friends and relations gave their consent.
- The time was appointed for the wedding-day,
- A young farmer chosen to give her away;
- As soon as the farmer the young lady did spy,
- He inflamed her heart; 'O, my heart!' she did cry.
- She turned from the squire, but nothing she said,
- Instead of being married she took to her bed;
- The thought of the farmer soon run in her mind,
- A way for to have him she quickly did find.
- Coat, waistcoat, and breeches she then did put on,
- And a hunting she went with her dog and her gun;
- She hunted all round where the farmer did dwell,
- Because in her heart she did love him full well:
- She oftentimes fired, but nothing she killed,
- At length the young farmer came into the field;
- And to discourse with him it was her intent,
- With her dog and her gun to meet him she went.
- 'I thought you had been at the wedding,' she cried,
- 'To wait on the squire, and give him his bride.'
- 'No, sir,' said the farmer, 'if the truth I may tell,
- I'll not give her away, for I love her too well'
- 'Suppose that the lady should grant you her love,
- You know that the squire your rival will prove.'
- 'Why, then,' says the farmer, 'I'll take sword in hand,
- By honour I'll gain her when she shall command.'
- It pleased the lady to find him so bold;
- She gave him a glove that was flowered with gold,
- And told him she found it when coming along,
- As she was a hunting with her dog and gun.
- The lady went home with a heart full of love,
- And gave out a notice that she'd lost a glove;
- And said, 'Who has found it, and brings it to me,
- Whoever he is, he my husband shall be.'
- The farmer was pleased when he heard of the news,
- With heart full of joy to the lady he goes:
- 'Dear, honoured lady, I've picked up your glove,
- And hope you'll be pleased to grant me your love.'
- 'It's already granted, I will be your bride;
- I love the sweet breath of a farmer,' she cried.
- 'I'll be mistress of my dairy, and milking my cow,
- While my jolly brisk farmer is whistling at plough.'
- And when she was married she told of her fun,
- How she went a hunting with her dog and gun:
- 'And now I've got him so fast in my snare,
- I'll enjoy him for ever, I vow and declare!'
God Speed the Plow, and Bless the Corn-Mow. A Dialogue
Between the Husbandman and Servingman
The tune is, I Am The Duke of Norfolk.
[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.]
- Argument.
- The servingman the plowman would invite
- To leave his calling and to take delight;
- But he to that by no means will agree,
- Lest he thereby should come to beggary.
- He makes it plain appear a country life
- Doth far excel: and so they end the strife.
- My noble friends give ear, if mirth you love to hear,
- I'll tell you as fast as I can,
- A story very true, then mark what doth ensue,
- Concerning of a husbandman.
- A servingman did meet a husbandman in the street,
- And thus unto him began:
- Servingman.
- I pray you tell to me of what calling you be,
- Or if you be a servingman?
- Husbandman.
- Quoth he, my brother dear, the coast I mean to clear,
- And the truth you shall understand:
- I do no one disdain, but this I tell you plain,
- I am an honest husbandman.
- Servingman.
- If a husbandman you be, then come along with me,
- I'll help you as soon as I can
- Unto a gallant place, where in a little space,
- You shall be a servingman.
- Husbandman.
- Sir, for your diligence I give you many thanks,
- These things I receive at your hand;
- I pray you to me show, whereby that I might know,
- What pleasures hath a servingman?
- Servingman.
- A servingman hath pleasure, which passeth time and measure,
- When the hawk on his fist doth stand;
- His hood, and his verrils brave, and other things, we have,
- Which yield joy to a servingman.
- Husbandman.
- My pleasure's more than that to see my oxen fat,
- And to prosper well under my hand;
- And therefore I do mean, with my horse, and with my team,
- To keep myself a husbandman.
- Servingman.
- O 'tis a gallant thing in the prime time of the spring,
- To hear the huntsman now and than
- His bugle for to blow, and the hounds run all a row:
- This is pleasure for a servingman!
- To hear the beagle cry, and to see the falcon fly,
- And the hare trip over the plain,
- And the huntsmen and the hound make hill and dale rebound:
- This is pleasure for a servingman!
- Husbandman.
- 'Tis pleasure, too, you know, to see the corn to grow,
- And to grow so well on the land;
- The plowing and the sowing, the reaping and the mowing,
- Yield pleasure to the husbandman.
- Servingman.
- At our table you may eat all sorts of dainty meat,
- Pig, cony, goose, capon, and swan;
- And with lords and ladies fine, you may drink beer, ale, and wine!
- This is pleasure for a servingman.
- Husbandman.
- While you eat goose and capon, I'll feed on beef and bacon,
- And piece of hard cheese now and than;
- We pudding have, and souse, always ready in the house,
- Which contents the honest husbandman.
- Servingman.
- At the court you may have your garments fine and brave,
- And cloak with gold lace laid upon,
- A shirt as white as milk, and wrought with finest silk:
- That's pleasure for a servingman!
- Husbandman.
- Such proud and costly gear is not for us to wear;
- Amongst the briers and brambles many a one,
- A good strong russet coat, and at your need a groat,
- Will suffice the husbandman.
- A proverb here I tell, which likes my humour well,
- And remember it well I can,
- If a courtier be too bold, he'll want when he is old.
- Then farewell the servingman.
- Servingman.
- It needs must be confest that your calling is the best,
- No longer discourse with you I can;
- But henceforth I will pray, by night and by day,
- Heaven bless the honest husbandman.
As sung at Richmond, Yorkshire, on the eve of the New Year, by the
Corporation Pinder.
[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., To the
Misletoe This New Year, 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 representing] The
Holy Month. 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 Popular Antiquities, vol. i. 247-8, Sir H.
Ellis's edit. 1842.]
- To-night it is the New-year's night, to-morrow is the day,
- And we are come for our right, and for our ray,
- As we used to do in old King Henry's day.
- Sing, fellows, sing, Hagman-heigh.
- If you go to the bacon-flick, cut me a good bit;
- Cut, cut and low, beware of your maw;
- Cut, cut and round, beware of your thumb,
- That me and my merry men may have some,
- Sing, fellows, sing, Hagman-heigh.
- If you go to the black-ark, bring me X mark;
- Ten mark, ten pound, throw it down upon the ground,
- That me and my merry men may have some.
- Sing, fellows, sing, Hagman-heigh.
[This old ditty, in its incidents, bears a resemblance to Dumble-
Dum-Deary, see ante. It used to be a popular song in the
Yorkshire dales. We have been obliged to supply an hiatus 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.]
- Harry courted modest Mary,
- Mary was always brisk and airy;
- Harry was country neat as could be,
- But his words were rough, and his duds were muddy.
- Harry when he first bespoke her,
- [Kept a dandling the kitchen poker;]
- Mary spoke her words like Venus,
- But said, 'There's something I fear between us.
- 'Have you got cups of China mettle,
- Canister, cream-jug, tongs, or kettle?'
- 'Odzooks, I've bowls, and siles, and dishes,
- Enow to supply any prudent wishes.
- 'I've got none o' your cups of Chaney,
- Canister, cream-jug, I've not any;
- I've a three-footed pot and a good brass kettle,
- Pray what do you want with your Chaney mettle?
- 'A shippen full of rye for to fother,
- A house full of goods, one mack or another;
- I'll thrash in the lathe while you sit spinning,
- O, Molly, I think that's a good beginning.'
- 'I'll not sit at my wheel a-spinning,
- Or rise in the morn to wash your linen;
- I'll lie in bed till the clock strikes eleven - '
- 'Oh, grant me patience gracious Heaven!
- 'Why then thou must marry some red-nosed squire,
- [Who'll buy thee a settle to sit by the fire,]
- For I'll to Margery in the valley,
- She is my girl, so farewell Malley.'
[From an old copy without printer's name or date.]
- Come, Roger and Nell,
- Come, Simpkin and Bell,
- Each lad with his lass hither come;
- With singing and dancing,
- And pleasure advancing,
- To celebrate harvest-home!
- Chorus. 'Tis Ceres bids play,
- And keep holiday,
- To celebrate harvest-home!
- Harvest-home!
- Harvest-home!
- To celebrate harvest-home!
- Our labour is o'er,
- Our barns, in full store,
- Now swell with rich gifts of the land;
- Let each man then take,
- For the prong and the rake,
- His can and his lass in his hand.
- For Ceres, &c.
- No courtier can be
- So happy as we,
- In innocence, pastime, and mirth;
- While thus we carouse,
- With our sweetheart or spouse,
- And rejoice o'er the fruits of the earth.
- For Ceres, &c.
[Our copy of this song is taken from one in the Roxburgh
Collection, where it is called, The Country Farmer's Vain Glory; In
a New Song of Harvest Home, Sung to a New Tune Much in Request.
Licensed According To Order. The tune is published in Popular
Music. A copy of this song, with the music, may be found in
D'Urfey's Pills To Purge Melancholy. 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.']
- Our oats they are howed, and our barley's reaped,
- Our hay is mowed, and our hovels heaped;
- Harvest home! harvest home!
- We'll merrily roar out our harvest home!
- Harvest home! harvest home!
- We'll merrily roar out our harvest home!
- We'll merrily roar out our harvest home!
- We cheated the parson, we'll cheat him again;
- For why should the vicar have one in ten?
- One in ten! one in ten!
- For why should the vicar have one in ten?
- For why should the vicar have one in ten?
- For staying while dinner is cold and hot,
- And pudding and dumpling's burnt to pot;
- Burnt to pot! burnt to pot!
- Till pudding and dumpling's burnt to pot,
- Burnt to pot! burnt to pot!
- We'll drink off the liquor while we can stand,
- And hey for the honour of old England!
- Old England! old England!
- And hey for the honour of old England!
- Old England! old England!
Back to the Index of
Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs