Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England Part 35

Ballad: AS TOM WAS A-WALKING. AN ANCIENT CORNISH SONG.

[This song, said to be translated from the Cornish, 'was taken down,' says Mr. Sandys, 'from the recital of a modern Corypheus, or leader of a parish choir,' who a.s.signed to it a very remote, but indefinite, antiquity.]

As Tom was a-walking one fine summer's morn, When the dazies and goldcups the fields did adorn; He met Cozen Mal, with a tub on her head, Says Tom, 'Cozen Mal, you might speak if you we'd.'

But Mal stamped along, and appeared to be shy, And Tom singed out, 'Zounds! I'll knaw of thee why?'

So back he tore a'ter, in a terrible fuss, And axed cozen Mal, 'What's the reason of thus?'

'Tom Treloar,' cried out Mal, 'I'll nothing do wi' 'ee, Go to f.a.n.n.y Trembaa, she do knaw how I'm shy; Tom, this here t'other daa, down the hill thee didst stap, And dab'd a great doat fig {48} in Fan Trembaa's lap.'

'As for f.a.n.n.y Trembaa, I ne'er taalked wi' her twice, And gived her a doat fig, they are so very nice; So I'll tell thee, I went to the fear t'other day, And the doat figs I boft, why I saved them away.'

Says Mal, 'Tom Treloar, ef that be the caase, May the Lord bless for ever that sweet pretty faace; Ef thee'st give me thy doat figs thee'st boft in the fear, I'll swear to thee now, thee shu'st marry me here.'

Ballad: THE MILLER AND HIS SONS.

[A miller, especially if he happen to be the owner of a soke-mill, has always been deemed fair game for the village satirist. Of the numerous songs written in ridicule of the calling of the 'rogues in grain,' the following is one of the best and most popular: its quaint humour will recommend it to our readers. For the tune, see Popular Music.]

There was a crafty miller, and he Had l.u.s.ty sons, one, two, and three: He called them all, and asked their will, If that to them he left his mill.

He called first to his eldest son, Saying, 'My life is almost run; If I to you this mill do make, What toll do you intend to take?'

'Father,' said he, 'my name is Jack; Out of a bushel I'll take a peck, From every bushel that I grind, That I may a good living find.'

'Thou art a fool!' the old man said, 'Thou hast not well learned thy trade; This mill to thee I ne'er will give, For by such toll no man can live.'

He called for his middlemost son, Saying, 'My life is almost run; If I to you this mill do make, What toll do you intend to take?'

'Father,' says he, 'my name is Ralph; Out of a bushel I'll take a half, From every bushel that I grind, That I may a good living find.'

'Thou art a fool!' the old man said, 'Thou hast not well learned thy trade; This mill to thee I ne'er will give, For by such toll no man can live.'

He called for his youngest son, Saying, 'My life is almost run; If I to you this mill do make, What toll do you intend to take?'

'Father,' said he, 'I'm your only boy, For taking toll is all my joy!

Before I will a good living lack, I'll take it all, and forswear the sack!'

'Thou art my boy!' the old man said, 'For thou hast right well learned thy trade; This mill to thee I give,' he cried, - And then he turned up his toes and died.

Ballad: JACK AND TOM. AN OULD BORDER DITTIE. (TRADITIONAL.)

[The following song was taken down from recitation in 1847. Of its history nothing is known; but we are strongly inclined to believe that it may be a.s.signed to the early part of the seventeenth century, and that it relates to the visit of Prince Charles and Buckingham, under the a.s.sumed names of Jack and Tom, to Spain, in 1623. Some curious references to the adventures of the Prince and his companion, on their masquerading tour, will be found in Halliwell's Letters of the Kings of England, vol. ii.]

I'm a north countrie-man, in Redesdale born, Where our land lies lea, and grows ne corn, - And such two lads to my house never com, As them two lads called Jack and Tom!

Now, Jack and Tom, they're going to the sea; I wish them both in good companie!

They're going to seek their fortunes ayont the wide sea, Far, far away frae their oan countrie!

They mounted their horses, and rode over the moor, Till they came to a house, when they rapped at the door; And out came Jockey, the hostler-man.

'D'ye brew ony ale? D'ye sell ony beer?

Or have ye ony lodgings for strangers here?'

'Ne, we brew ne ale, nor we sell ne beer, Nor we have ne lodgings for strangers here.'

So he bolted the door, and bade them begone, For there was ne lodgings there for poor Jack and Tom.

They mounted their horses, and rode over the plain; - Dark was the night, and down fell the rain; Till a twinkling light they happened to spy, And a castle and a house they were close by.

They rode up to the house, and they rapped at the door, And out came Jockey, the hosteler.

'D'ye brew ony ale? D'ye sell ony beer?

Or have ye ony lodgings for strangers here?'

'Yes, we have brewed ale this fifty lang year, And we have got lodgings for strangers here.'

So the roast to the fire, and the pot hung on, 'Twas all to accommodate poor Jack and Tom.

When supper was over, and all was SIDED DOWN, The gla.s.ses of wine did go merrily roun'.

'Here is to thee, Jack, and here is to thee, And all the bonny la.s.ses in our countrie!'

'Here is to thee, Tom, and here is to thee, And look they may LEUK for thee and me!'

'Twas early next morning, before the break of day, They mounted their horses, and so they rode away.

Poor Jack, he died upon a far foreign sh.o.r.e, And Tom, he was never, never heard of more!

Ballad: JOAN'S ALE WAS NEW.

[Ours is the common version of this popular song; it varies considerably from the one given by D'Urfey, in the Pills to purge Melancholy. From the names of Nolly and Joan and the allusion to ale, we are inclined to consider the song as a lampoon levelled at Cromwell, and his wife, whom the Royalist party nick-named 'Joan.'

The Protector's acquaintances (depicted as low and vulgar tradesmen) are here humorously represented paying him a congratulatory visit on his change of fortune, and regaling themselves with the 'Brewer's' ale. The song is mentioned in Thackeray's Catalogue, under the t.i.tle of Joan's Ale's New; which may be regarded as circ.u.mstantial evidence in favour of our hypothesis. The air is published in Popular Music, accompanying three stanzas of a version copied from the Douce collection. The first verse in Mr. Chappell's book runs as follows:-

There was a jovial tinker, Who was a good ale drinker, He never was a shrinker, Believe me this is true; And he came from the Weald of Kent, When all his money was gone and spent, Which made him look like a Jack a-lent.

And Joan's ale is new, my boys, And Joan's ale is new.]

There were six jovial tradesmen, And they all sat down to drinking, For they were a jovial crew; They sat themselves down to be merry; And they called for a bottle of sherry, You're welcome as the hills, says Nolly, While Joan's ale is new, brave boys, While Joan's ale is new.