Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England Part 27

There are modern copies of our Kentish Wooing Song, but the present version is taken from Melismata, Musical phansies fitting the court, citie, and countree. To 3, 4, and 5 voyces. London, printed by William Stansby, for Thomas Adams, 1611. The tune will be found in Popular Music, I., 90. The words are in the Kentish dialect.]

Ich have house and land in Kent, And if you'll love me, love me now; Two-pence half-penny is my rent, - Ich cannot come every day to woo.

Chorus. Two-pence half-penny is his rent, And he cannot come every day to woo.

Ich am my vather's eldest zonne, My mouther eke doth love me well!

For Ich can bravely clout my shoone, And Ich full-well can ring a bell.

Cho. For he can bravely clout his shoone, And he full well can ring a bell. {33}

My vather he gave me a hogge, My mouther she gave me a zow; Ich have a G.o.d-vather dwells there by, And he on me bestowed a plow.

Cho. He has a G.o.d-vather dwells there by, And he on him bestowed a plow.

One time Ich gave thee a paper of pins, Anoder time a taudry lace; And if thou wilt not grant me love, In truth Ich die bevore thy vace.

Cho. And if thou wilt not grant his love, In truth he'll die bevore thy vace.

Ich have been twice our Whitson Lord, Ich have had ladies many vare; And eke thou hast my heart in hold, And in my minde zeemes pa.s.sing rare.

Cho. And eke thou hast his heart in hold, And in his minde zeemes pa.s.sing rare.

Ich will put on my best white sloppe, And Ich will weare my yellow hose; And on my head a good gray hat, And in't Ich sticke a lovely rose.

Cho. And on his head a good grey hat, And in't he'll stick a lovely rose.

Wherefore cease off, make no delay, And if you'll love me, love me now; Or els Ich zeeke zome oder where, - For Ich cannot come every day to woo.

Cho. Or else he'll zeeke zome oder where, For he cannot come every day to woo. {34}

Ballad: THE CLOWN'S COURTSHIP.

[This song, on the same subject as the preceding, is as old as the reign of Henry VIII., the first verse, says Mr. Chappell, being found elaborately set to music in a ma.n.u.script of that date. The air is given in Popular Music, I., 87.]

Quoth John to Joan, wilt thou have me?

I prythee now, wilt? and I'ze marry with thee, My cow, my calf, my house, my rents, And all my lands and tenements: Oh, say, my Joan, will not that do?

I cannot come every day to woo.

I've corn and hay in the barn hard by, And three fat hogs pent up in the sty: I have a mare, and she is coal black, I ride on her tail to save my back.

Then say, &c.

I have a cheese upon the shelf, And I cannot eat it all myself; I've three good marks that lie in a rag, In the nook of the chimney, instead of a bag.

Then say, &c.

To marry I would have thy consent, But faith I never could compliment; I can say nought but 'hoy, gee ho,'

Words that belong to the cart and the plow.

Then say, &c.

Ballad: HARRY'S COURTSHIP.

[This old ditty, in its incidents, bears a resemblance to Dumble- dum-deary, see ante, p. 149. 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 bra.s.s 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.'

Ballad: HARVEST-HOME SONG.

[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!