Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England Part 6

Thus think, and smoke tobacco.

In vain the unlighted pipe you blow, Your pains in outward means are so, Till heavenly fire Your heart inspire.

Thus think, and smoke tobacco.

The smoke, like burning incense, towers, So should a praying heart of yours, With ardent cries, Surmount the skies.

Thus think, and smoke tobacco.

Poem: THE MASONIC HYMN.

[This is a very ancient production, though given from a modern copy; it has always been popular amongst the poor 'brethren of the mystic tie.' The late Henry O'Brien, A.B., quotes the seventh verse in his essay On the Round Towers of Ireland. He generally had a common copy of the hymn in his pocket, and on meeting with any of his antiquarian friends who were not Masons, was in the habit of thrusting it into their hands, and telling them that if they understood the mystic allusions it contained, they would be in possession of a key which would unlock the pyramids of Egypt! The tune to the hymn is peculiar to it, and is of a plaintive and solemn character.]

Come all you freemasons that dwell around the globe, That wear the badge of innocence, I mean the royal robe, Which Noah he did wear when in the ark he stood, When the world was destroyed by a deluging flood.

Noah he was virtuous in the sight of the Lord, He loved a freemason that kept the secret word; For he built the ark, and he planted the first vine, Now his soul in heaven like an angel doth shine.

Once I was blind, and could not see the light, Then up to Jerusalem I took my flight, I was led by the evangelist through a wilderness of care, You may see by the sign and the badge that I wear.

On the 13th rose the ark, let us join hand in hand, For the Lord spake to Moses by water and by land, Unto the pleasant river where by Eden it did rin, And Eve tempted Adam by the serpent of sin.

When I think of Moses it makes me to blush, All on mount h.o.r.eb where I saw the burning bush; My shoes I'll throw off, and my staff I'll cast away, And I'll wander like a pilgrim unto my dying day.

When I think of Aaron it makes me to weep, Likewise of the Virgin Mary who lay at our Saviour's feet; 'Twas in the garden of Gethsemane where he had the b.l.o.o.d.y sweat; Repent, my dearest brethren, before it is too late.

I thought I saw twelve dazzling lights, which put me in surprise, And gazing all around me I heard a dismal noise; The serpent pa.s.sed by me which fell unto the ground, With great joy and comfort the secret word I found.

Some say it is lost, but surely it is found, And so is our Saviour, it is known to all around; Search all the Scriptures over, and there it will be shown; The tree that will bear no fruit must be cut down.

Abraham was a man well beloved by the Lord, He was true to be found in great Jehovah's word, He stretched forth his hand, and took a knife to slay his son, An angel appearing said, The Lord's will be done!

O, Abraham! O, Abraham! lay no hand upon the lad, He sent him unto thee to make thy heart glad; Thy seed shall increase like stars in the sky, And thy soul into heaven like Gabriel shall fly.

O, never, O, never will I hear an orphan cry, Nor yet a gentle virgin until the day I die; You wandering Jews that travel the wide world round, May knock at the door where truth is to be found.

Often against the Turks and Infidels we fight, To let the wandering world know we're in the right, For in heaven there's a lodge, and St. Peter keeps the door, And none can enter in but those that are pure.

St. Peter he opened, and so we entered in, Into the holy seat secure, which is all free from sin; St. Peter he opened, and so we entered there, And the glory of the temple no man can compare.

Poem: G.o.d 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 n.o.ble 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 s.p.a.ce, 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 pa.s.seth 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.