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PARSON
Darby wore a black gown, And every button cost half a crown ; From port to port, and toe to toe, Turn the ship and away we go !
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I HAD
a little pony, His name was Dapple-grey, I lent him to a lady, To ride a mile away ; She whipped him, she slashed him, She rode him through the mire ; I would not lend my pony now For all the lady's hire.
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AS
Tommy Snooks and Bessy Brooks Were walking out one Sunday, Says Tommy Snooks to Bessy Brooks, "To-morrow will be Monday."
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IF I'd as much money as I could spend, I never would cry old chairs to mend : Old chairs to mend, old chairs to mend, I never would cry old chairs to mend.
If I'd as much money as I could tell,
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SAYS
t'auld man tit oak tree, Young and lusty was I when I kenn'd thee ; I was young and lusty, I was fair and clear, Young and lusty was I mony a lang year ; But sair fail'd am I, sair fail'd now, Sair fail'd am I sen I kenn'd thou.
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/ p.172 /
| [The following song is given in Whiter's "Specimen or a Commentary on Shakespeare," 8vo, London, 1794, p.19, as common in Cambridgeshire and Norfolk.] |
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DAME,
what makes your ducks to die ? What the pize ails 'em ? what the pize ails 'em ? They kick up their heels, and there they lie, What the pize ails 'em now ? Heigh, ho ! heigh, ho ! Dame, what makes your ducks to die ? What a pize ails 'em ? what a pize ails 'em ? Heigh, ho ! heigh, ho ! Dame, what ails your ducks to die ? Eating o'polly-wigs, eating o'polly-wigs. [i. e. tadpoles.] Heigh, ho ! heigh, ho !
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BUZ, quoth the blue fly, Hum, quoth the bee, Buz and hum they cry, And so do we: In his ear, in his nose, Thus, do you see ; He ate the dormouse, Else it was thee. |
/ p.173 /
| [Out of the many songs relating to the heroine of the following stanza, one only has been deemed eligible for insertion in this volume.] |
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NANCY DAWSON was so fine, She wouldn't get up to serve the swine, She lies in bed till eight or nine, So its oh ! poor Nancy Dawson.
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WE'RE
all dry with drinking on't, We're all dry with drinking on't ; The piper kiss'd the fiddler's wife, And I can't sleep for thinking on't.
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IN love be I, fifth button high, On velvet runs my courting, Sheer buckram twist, best broadcloth list, I have for others sporting. |
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From needle, thread, my fingers fled, My heart is set a throbbing ; And no one by, I cross-legg'd sigh, For charming Betsy Bobbin. Betsy Bobbin, Betsy Bobbin, For charming Betsy Bobbin.
Her lips so sweet, are velveret,
Her roguish smile can well beguile,
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/ p.175 /
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THERE
was an old man who liv'd in Middle Row, He had five hens, and a name for them, oh ! Bill and Ned and Battock, Cut-her-foot and Pattock, Chuck, my lady Prattock, Go to thy nest and lay.
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WHO comes here ? A grenadier. What do you want ? A pot of beer. Where is your money ? I've forgot. Get you gone, You drunken sot !
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CURLY
locks ! curly locks ! wilt thou be mine ? Thou shalt not wash dishes, nor yet feed the swine : But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam, And feed upon strawberries, sugar and cream !
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/ p.176 /
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PUSSY cat, pussy cat, wilt thou be mine ? Thou shalt neither wash dishes nor feed the swine ; But sit on a cushion and sew a silk seam, And eat fine strawberries, sugar and cream.
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BAH,
bah, black sheep, Have you any wool ? Yes marry have I, Three bags full : One for my master, One for my dame, But none for the little boy Who cries in the lane.
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O the little rusty, dusty, rusty miller, I'll not change my wife for either gold or siller.
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/ p.177 /
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I'LL sing you a song, Nine verses long, For a pin : Three and three are six, And three are nine ; You are a fool, And the pin is mine.
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THE
quaker's wife got up to bake, Her children all about her, She gave them every one a cake, And the miller wants his moulter.
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BARBER,
barber, shave a pig, How many hairs will make a wig ? " Four and twenty, that's enough." Give the poor barber a pinch of snuff.
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/ p.178 /
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HERE
comes a lusty wooer, My a dildin, my a daldin ; Here comes a lusty wooer, Lily bright and shine a.
Pray, who do you woo,
For your fairest daughter,
Then there she is for you,
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ABOUT the bush, Willy, About the bee-hive, About the bush, Willy, I'll meet thee alive. |
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Then to my ten shillings, Add you but a groat, I'll go to Newcastle, And buy a new coat.
Five and five shillings,
Five and five shillings,
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O BONNY Hobby Elliott, O canny Hobby still, O bonny Hobby Elliott, Who lives at Harlow hill : Had Hobby acted right, As he has seldom done, He would have kiss'd his wife, And let his maid alone.
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/ p.180 /
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WE'LL go a shooting, says Robin to Bobbin ; We'll go a shooting, says Richard to Robin ; We'll go a shooting, says John all alone ; We'll go a shooting, says every one.
What shall we kill ? says Robin to Bobbin ;
We'll shoot at that wren, says Robin to Bobbin ;
She's down, she's down, says Robin to Bobbin ;
How shall we get her home ? says Robin to Bobbin ;
We'll hire a cart, says Robin to Bobbin ; |
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Then hoist, boys, hoist says Robin to Bobbin ; Then hoist, boys, hoist, says Richard to Robin ; Then hoist, boys, hoist, says John all alone ; Then hoist, boys, hoist, says every one.
So they brought her away, after each pluck'd a feather,
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UP
hill and down dale ; Butter is made in every vale ; And if that Nancy Cook Is a good girl, She shall have a spouse, And make butter anon, Before her old grandmother Grows a young man.
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AS I was going up Pippen-hill, Pippen-hill was dirty, There I met a pretty miss, And she dropt me a curtsey. |
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Little miss, pretty miss, Blessings light upon you, If I had half-a-crown a day, I'd spend it all on you.
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O RARE
Harry Parry, When will you marry ? When apples and pears are ripe. I'll come to your wedding, Without any bidding, And lie with your bride all night.
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I AM
a pretty wench, And I come a great way hence, And sweethearts I can get none : But every dirty sow, Can get sweethearts enow, And I, pretty wench, can get never a one.
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/ p.183 /
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THERE
was a little boy and a little girl Lived in an alley ; Says the little boy to the little girl, Shall I, oh ! shall I ?
Says the little girl to the little boy,
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LITTLE
boy blue, come blow up your horn, A sheep's in the meadow, a cow's in the corn ; Where's the little boy that looks after the sheep ? He's under the haycock fast asleep.
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TRIP upon trenchers, and dance upon dishes, My mother sent me for some barm, some barm ; She bid me tread lightly, and come again quickly, For fear the young men should do me some harm. |
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Yet didn't you see, yet didn't you see, What naughty tricks they put upon me : They broke my pitcher, And spilt the water, And huff'd my mother, And chid her daughter, And kiss'd my sister instead of me.
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COME,
let's to bed, Says Sleepy-head ; Tarry a while, says Slow : Put on the pot, Says Greedy-gut, Let's sup before we go.
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I'LL sing you a song : The days are long, The woodcock and the sparrow : The little dog has burnt his tail, And he must be hang'd to-morrow. |
/ p.185 /
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I'LL sing you a song of two days long, A woodcock and a sparrow : The little dog has burnt his tail, And bid his dame good morrow.
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THE
cat sat asleep by the side of the fire, The mistress snored loud as a pig : Jack took up his fiddle, by Jenny's desire, And struck up a bit of a jig.
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LITTLE
maid, pretty maid, whither goest thou ? Down in the forest to milk my cow. Shall I go with thee ? No, not now ; When I send for thee, then come thou.
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BURNIE
bee, Burnie bee, Tell me when your wedding be : If it be to-morrow day, Take your wings and flee away.
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THE
sow came in with the saddle, The little pig rock'd the cradle, The dish jump'd over the table, To see the pot with the ladle. The broom behind the butt Call'd the dish-clout a nasty slut : Odds-bobs, says the gridiron, can't you agree ? I'm the head constable,—come along with me.
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AROUND
the green gravel the grass grows green, And all the pretty maids are plain to be seen ; Wash them with milk, and clothe them with silk, And write their names with a pen and ink.
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/ p.187 /
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AWA'
birds, away, Take a little and leave a little, And do not come again ; For if you do, I will shoot you through, And there is an end of you.
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BETTY'S gone a milking, mother, mother ; Betty's gone a milking, dainty fine mother of mine : Then you may go after, daughter, daughter ; Then you may go after, dainty fine daughter of mine.
Buy me a pair of milk pails, mother, &c.
Pawn my father's feather-bed, mother, &c.
Lay him in the maid's bed, mother, &c. |
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Lay her in the pig-stye, mother, &c. Where are the pigs to lay ? daughter, &c.
Lay them at the stair-foot, mother, &c.
Lay them by the water-side, mother, &c.
Then take a rope and hang yourself, mother, &c.
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THOMAS A DIDYMUS had a black beard, Kissed Nancy Fitchett, and made her afeard.
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THOMAS A DIDYMUS, king of the Jews, Jumped into the fire and burnt both his shoes.
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WHAT
care I how black I be, Twenty pounds will marry me ; If twenty won't, forty shall, I am my mother's bouncing girl !
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A LITTLE
old man and I fell out ; How shall we bring this matter about ? Bring it about as well as you can, Get you gone, you little old man !
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JOHN,
come sell thy fiddle, And buy thy wife a gown ; No, I'll not sell my fiddle, For ne'er a wife in town.
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I WILL tell my own daddy when he comes home, What little good work my mammy has done. She has earnt a penny, spent a groat, And burnt a hole in the child's new coat.
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MY
little old man and I fell out, I'll tell you what 'twas all about : I had money and he had none, And that's the way the row begun.
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RIDE,
baby, ride, Pretty baby shall ride, And have a little puppy-dog tied to her side, And little pussy-cat tied to the other, And away she shall ride to see her grandmother. To see her grandmother, To see her grandmother.
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THE rose is red, the violet's blue Carnation's sweet, and so are you. Thou art my love, and I am thine ; I drew thee to my Valentine ; The lot was cast, and then I drew, And fortune said it should be you.
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ONE misty moisty morning, When cloudy was the weather, There I met an old man Clothed all in leather ; Clothed all in leather, With cap under his chin. How do you do, and how do you do, And how do you do again ?
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CAN
you make me a cambric shirt, Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme ; Without any seam or needlework ? And you shall be a true lover of mine. |
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Can you wash it in yonder well, Parsley, &c. Where never sprung water, nor rain ever fell ? And you, &c.
Can you dry it on yonder thorn,
Now you have ask'd me questions three,
Can you find me an acre of land,
Can you plough it with a ram's horn,
Can you reap it with a sickle of leather, |
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When you have done and finish'd your work, Parsley, &c. Then come to me for your cambric shirt ? And you, &c.
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I LOVE sixpence, pretty little sixpence, I love sixpence better than my life ; I spent a penny of it, I spent another, And took fourpence home to my wife.
Oh, my little fourpence, pretty little fourpence,
Oh, my little twopence, my pretty little twopence,
Oh, my little nothing, my pretty little nothing,
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/ p.194 /
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OF all the gay birds that e'er I did see, The owl is the fairest by far to me ; For all the day long she sits on a tree, And when the night comes away flies she.
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LONDON bridge is broken down, Dance o'er my lady lee ; London bridge is broken down, With a gay lady.
How shall we build it up again?
Silver and gold will be stole away,
Build it up again with iron and steel, |
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Iron and steel will bend and bow, Dance o'er my lady lee ; Iron and steel will bend and bow, With a gay lady.
Build it up with wood and clay,
Wood and clay will wash away,
Build it up with stone so strong,
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JIM CROW'S sister, Bought a little dolly ; And dress'd it, and nurs'd it, And call'd it Pretty Polly.
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/ p.196 /
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I HAD
a little hobby-horse, and it was well shod, It carried me to the mill-door, trod, trod, trod ; When I got there I gave a great shout, Down came the hobby-horse, and I cried out. Fie upon the miller, he was a great beast, He would not come to my house, I made a little feast ; I had but little, but I would give him some, For playing of his bag-pipes and beating his drum.
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DANCE, little baby, dance up high, Never mind, baby, mother is by ; Crow and caper, caper and crow, There, little baby, there you go ; Up to the ceiling, down to the ground, Backwards and forwards, round and round ; Dance, little baby, and mother will sing, With the merry coral, ding, ding, ding.
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/ p.197 /
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IF
all the seas were one sea, What a great sea would that be ! And if all the trees were one tree, What a great tree that would be ! And if all the axes were one axe, What a great axe that would be ! And if all the men were one man, What a great man he would be ! And if the great man took the great axe, And cut down the great tree, And let it fall into the great sea, What a splish splash that would be ! !
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JOHN BALL
shot them all ; John Scott made the shot, But John Ball shot them all.
John Wyming made the priming, |
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John Block made the stock, And John Brammer made the rammer, And John Wyming made the priming, And John Scott made the shot, But John Ball shot them all.
John Crowder made the powder,
John Puzzle made the muzzle,
John Clint made the flint, |
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John Patch made the match, And John Clint made the flint, And John Puzzle made the muzzle, And John Crowder made the powder, And John Block made the stock, And John Wyming made the priming, And John Brammer made the rammer, And John Scott made the shot, But John Ball shot them all.
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LITTLE
Tommy Tacket, Sits upon his cracket ;* Half a yard of cloth will make him coat and jacket ; Make him coat and jacket, Breeches to the knee. And if you will not have him, you may let him be.
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GREEN leaves and pudding pies, Tell me where my mistress lies, And I'll be with her before she rise, Fiddle and aw' together.
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| * A little three-legged stool seen by the ingle of every cottage in the north of England. |
/ p.200 /
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GO
to bed, Tom ! Go to bed, Tom ! Drunk or sober, Go to bed, Tom!
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OLD woman, old woman, shall we go a shearing ? Speak a little louder, sir, I am very thick of hearing. Old woman, old woman, shall I kiss you dearly ? Thank you, kind sir, I hear you very clearly !
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[From "Histrio-maxtix, or, the Player Whipt," 4to, Lond. 1610. Mr. Rimbault tells me this is common in Yorkshire.] |
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SOME up, some down, There are players, in town, You wot well who they be ; The sun doth rise, To three companies, One, two, three, four, make wee ! |
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Besides we that travel, With pumps full of gravel, Made of such running leather : That once in a week, New masters we seek, And never can hold together.
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