Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England Part 32

Last I come in myself, The leader of this crew; And if you'd know my name, My name it is 'True Blue.'

Here the BESSY gives an account of himself.

My mother was burnt for a witch, My father was hanged on a tree, And it's because I'm a fool There's n.o.body meddled wi' me.

The dance now commences. It is an ingenious performance, and the swords of the actors are placed in a variety of graceful positions, so as to form stars, hearts, squares, circles, &c. &c. The dance is so elaborate that it requires frequent rehearsals, a quick eye, and a strict adherence to time and tune. Before it concludes, grace and elegance have given place to disorder, and at last all the actors are seen fighting. The PARISH CLERGYMAN rushes in to prevent bloodshed, and receives a death-blow. While on the ground, the actors walk round the body, and sing as follows, to a slow, psalm-like tune:-

Alas! our parson's dead, And on the ground is laid; Some of us will suffer for't, Young men, I'm sore afraid.

I'm sure 'twas none of me, I'm clear of THAT crime; 'Twas him that follows me That drew his sword so fine.

I'm sure it was NOT me, I'm clear of the fact; 'Twas him that follows me That did this dreadful act.

I'm sure 'twas none of me, Who say't be villains all; For both my eyes were closed When this good priest did fall.

The BESSY sings -

Cheer up, cheer up, my bonny lads, And be of courage brave, We'll take him to his church, And bury him in the grave.

The CAPTAIN speaks in a sort of recitative -

Oh, for a doctor, A ten pound doctor, oh.

Enter DOCTOR.

Doctor. Here I am, I.

Captain. Doctor, what's your fee?

Doctor. Ten pounds is my fee!

But nine pounds nineteen shillings eleven pence three farthings I will take from thee.

The Bessy. There's ge-ne-ro-si-ty!

The DOCTOR sings -

I'm a doctor, a doctor rare, Who travels much at home; My famous pills they cure all ills, Past, present, and to come.

My famous pills who'd be without, They cure the plague, the sickness {42} and gout, Anything but a love-sick maid; If YOU'RE one, my dear, you're beyond my aid!

Here the DOCTOR occasionally salutes one of the fair spectators; he then takes out his snuff-box, which is always of very capacious dimensions (a sort of miniature warming-pan), and empties the contents (flour or meal) on the CLERGYMAN'S face, singing at the time -

Take a little of my nif-naf, Put it on your tif-taf; Parson rise up and preach again, The doctor says you are not slain.

The CLERGYMAN here sneezes several times, and gradually recovers, and all shake him by the hand.

The ceremony terminates by the CAPTAIN singing -

Our play is at an end, And now we'll taste your cheer; We wish you a merry Christmas, And a happy new year.

The Bessy. And your pockets full of bra.s.s, And your cellars full of beer!

A general dance concludes the play.

Ballad: THE MASKERS' SONG.

[In the Yorkshire dales the young men are in the habit of going about at Christmas time in grotesque masks, and of performing in the farm-houses a sort of rude drama, accompanied by singing and music. {43} The maskers have wooden swords, and the performance is an evening one. The following version of their introductory song was taken down literally from the recitation of a young besom- maker, now residing at Linton in Craven, who for some years past has himself been one of these rustic actors. From the allusion to the pace, or paschal-egg, it is evident that the play was originally an Easter pageant, which, in consequence of the decline of the gorgeous rites formerly connected with that season, has been transferred to Christmas, the only festival which, in the rural districts of Protestant England, is observed after the olden fashion. The maskers generally consist of five characters, one of whom officiates in the threefold capacity of clown, fiddler, and master of the ceremonies. The custom of masking at Christmas is common to many parts of Europe, and is observed with especial zest in the Swiss cantons, where the maskers are all children, and the performances closely resemble those of England. In Switzerland, however, more care is bestowed upon the costume, and the songs are better sung.]

Enter CLOWN, who sings in a sort of chant, or recitative.

I open this door, I enter in, I hope your favour for to win; Whether we shall stand or fall, We do endeavour to please you all.

A room! a room! a gallant room, A room to let us ride!

We are not of the raggald sort, But of the royal tribe: Stir up the fire, and make a light, To see the b.l.o.o.d.y act to-night!

Here another of the party introduces his companions by singing to a violin accompaniment, as follows:

Here's two or three jolly boys, all in one mind; We've come a pace-egging, {44} I hope you'll prove kind: I hope you'll prove kind with your money and beer, We shall come no more near you until the next year.

Fal de ral, lal de lal, &c.

The first that steps up is Lord [Nelson] {45} you'll see, With a bunch of blue ribbons tied down to his knee; With a star on his breast, like silver doth shine; I hope you'll remember this pace-egging time.

Fal de ral, &c.

O! the next that steps up is a jolly Jack tar, He sailed with Lord [Nelson], during last war: He's right on the sea, Old England to view: He's come a pace-egging with so jolly a crew.

Fal de ral, &c.

O! the next that steps up is old Toss-Pot, you'll see, He's a valiant old man, in every degree, He's a valiant old man, and he wears a pig-tail; And all his delight is drinking mulled ale.

Fal de ral, &c.

O! the next that steps up is old Miser, you'll see; She heaps up her white and her yellow money; She wears her old rags till she starves and she begs; And she's come here to ask for a dish of pace eggs.

Fal de ral, &a

The characters being thus duly introduced, the following lines are sung in chorus by all the party.

Gentlemen and ladies, that sit by the fire, Put your hand in your pocket, 'tis all we desire; Put your hand in your pocket, and pull out your purse, And give us a trifle,--you'll not be much worse.

Here follows a dance, and this is generally succeeded by a dialogue of an ad libitum character, which varies in different districts, being sometimes similar to the one performed by the sword-dancers.

Ballad: GLOUCESTERSHIRE Wa.s.sAILERS' SONG.

[It is still customary in many parts of England to hand round the wa.s.sail, or health-bowl, on New-Year's Eve. The custom is supposed to be of Saxon origin, and to be derived from one of the observances of the Feast of Yule. The tune of this song is given in Popular Music. It is a universal favourite in Gloucestershire, particularly in the neighbourhood of