Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England Part 29

We'll drink it out of the well, my brave boys, Here's a health to the barley-mow!

The well, the pipe, &c.

Cho. Here's a health, &c.

We'll drink it out of the river, my boys, Here's a health to the barley-mow!

The river, the well, &c.

Cho. Here's a health, &c.

We'll drink it out of the ocean, my boys, Here's a health to the barley-mow!

The ocean, the river, the well, the pipe, the hogshead, the half-hogshead, the anker, the half-anker, the gallon, the pottle, the quart, the pint, the half-a-pint, the quarter-pint, the nipperkin, and the jolly brown bowl!

Cho. Here's a health to the barley-mow, my brave boys!

Here's a health to the barley-mow!

[The above verses are very much ad libitum, but always in the third line repeating the whole of the previously-named measures; as we have shown in the recapitulation at the close of the last verse.]

Ballad: THE BARLEY-MOW SONG. (SUFFOLK VERSION.)

[The peasantry of Suffolk sing the following version of the Barley- Mow Song.]

Here's a health to the barley mow!

Here's a health to the man Who very well can Both harrow and plow and sow!

When it is well sown See it is well mown, Both raked and gavelled clean, And a barn to lay it in.

He's a health to the man Who very well can Both thrash and fan it clean!

Ballad: THE CRAVEN CHURN-SUPPER SONG.

[In some of the more remote dales of Craven it is customary at the close of the hay-harvest for the farmers to give an entertainment to their men; this is called the churn supper; a name which Eugene Aram traces to 'the immemorial usage of producing at such suppers a great quant.i.ty of cream in a churn, and circulating it in cups to each of the rustic company, to be eaten with bread.' At these churn-suppers the masters and their families attend the entertainment, and share in the general mirth. The men mask themselves, and dress in a grotesque manner, and are allowed the privilege of playing harmless practical jokes on their employers, &c. The churn-supper song varies in different dales, but the following used to be the most popular version. In the third verse there seems to be an allusion to the clergyman's taking tythe in kind, on which occasions he is generally accompanied by two or three men, and the parish clerk. The song has never before been printed. There is a marked resemblance between it and a song of the date of 1650, called A Cup of Old Stingo. See Popular Music of the Olden Time, I., 308.]

G.o.d rest you, merry gentlemen!

Be not moved at my strain, For nothing study shall my brain, But for to make you laugh: For I came here to this feast, For to laugh, carouse, and jest, And welcome shall be every guest, To take his cup and quaff.

Cho. Be frolicsome, every one, Melancholy none; Drink about!

See it out, And then we'll all go home, And then we'll all go home!

This ale it is a gallant thing, It cheers the spirits of a king; It makes a dumb man strive to sing, Aye, and a beggar play!

A cripple that is lame and halt, And scarce a mile a day can walk, When he feels the juice of malt, Will throw his crutch away.

Cho. Be frolicsome, &c.

'Twill make the parson forget his men, - 'Twill make his clerk forget his pen; 'Twill turn a tailor's giddy brain, And make him break his wand, The blacksmith loves it as his life, - It makes the tinkler bang his wife, - Aye, and the butcher seek his knife When he has it in his hand!

Cho. Be frolicsome, &c.

So now to conclude, my merry boys, all, Let's with strong liquor take a fall, Although the weakest goes to the wall, The best is but a play!

For water it concludes in noise, Good ale will cheer our hearts, brave boys; Then put it round with a cheerful voice, We meet not every day.

Cho. Be frolicsome, &c.

Ballad: THE RURAL DANCE ABOUT THE MAY-POLE.

[The most correct copy of this song is that given in The Westminster Drollery, Part II. p. 80. It is there called The Rural Dance about the May-pole, the tune, the first-figure dance at Mr.

Young's ball, May, 1671. The tune is in Popular Music. The May- pole, for so the song is called in modern collections, is a very popular ditty at the present time. The common copies vary considerably from the following version, which is much more correct than any hitherto published.]

Come, la.s.ses and lads, take leave of your dads, And away to the may-pole hie; For every he has got him a she, And the minstrel's standing by; For Willie has gotten his Jill, And Johnny has got his Joan, To jig it, jig it, jig it, Jig it up and down.

'Strike up,' says Wat; 'Agreed,' says Kate, 'And I prithee, fiddler, play;'

'Content,' says Hodge, and so says Madge, For this is a holiday.

Then every man did put His hat off to his la.s.s, And every girl did curchy, Curchy, curchy on the gra.s.s.

'Begin,' says Hall; 'Aye, aye,' says Mall, 'We'll lead up PACKINGTON'S POUND;'

'No, no,' says Noll, and so says Doll, 'We'll first have SELLENGER'S ROUND.' {35} Then every man began To foot it round about; And every girl did jet it, Jet it, jet it, in and out.

'You're out,' says d.i.c.k; ''Tis a lie,' says Nick, 'The fiddler played it false;'

''Tis true,' says Hugh, and so says Sue, And so says nimble Alice.

The fiddler then began To play the tune again; And every girl did trip it, trip it, Trip it to the men.

'Let's kiss,' says Jane, {36} 'Content,' says Nan, And so says every she; 'How many?' says Batt; 'Why three,' says Matt, 'For that's a maiden's fee.'

But they, instead of three, Did give them half a score, And they in kindness gave 'em, gave 'em, Gave 'em as many more.

Then after an hour, they went to a bower, And played for ale and cakes; And kisses, too;--until they were due, The la.s.ses kept the stakes: The girls did then begin To quarrel with the men; And bid 'em take their kisses back, And give them their own again.

Yet there they sate, until it was late, And tired the fiddler quite, With singing and playing, without any paying, From morning unto night: They told the fiddler then, They'd pay him for his play; And each a two-pence, two-pence, Gave him, and went away.

'Good night,' says Harry; 'Good night,' says Mary; 'Good night,' says Dolly to John; 'Good night,' says Sue; 'Good night,' says Hugh; 'Good night,' says every one.

Some walked, and some did run, Some loitered on the way; And bound themselves with love-knots, love-knots, To meet the next holiday.

Ballad: THE HITCHIN MAY-DAY SONG.

[The following song is sung by the Mayers at Hitchin in the county of Herts. For an account of the manner in which May-day is observed at Hitchin, see Hone's Every-Day Book.]

Remember us poor Mayers all!

And thus do we begin To lead our lives in righteousness, Or else we die in sin.