No37 THE WHITE COCKADE

1A sweet pretty maiden sat under a tree,She sighed and said, 'Oh! that I married might be,My daddy is so crabbed and my mammy is so cross,That a husband for certain could never be worse.'2Young Johnny he heard what the damsel did say.He came to her side, and said smiling, 'TodayI have a little cottage and I have a little horseI have a pleasant temper that will not grow worse.3'If you will be mine, and to that will agree,We'll travel together in sweet amity.There never will be wrangle, there never can be strife,Between a good husband and his pretty wife.'4The maiden replied, 'I am not very sure,That fond matrimony my trouble will cure,From daddy and from mammy I quickly run awayAnd go into service for a year and a day.5'The ring that you hold is a link in a chain,Will fetter my freedom, my tongue will restrainI cannot run away, and I never shall be free,So take your kind offer to others than me.'

A sweet pretty maiden sat under a tree,She sighed and said, 'Oh! that I married might be,My daddy is so crabbed and my mammy is so cross,That a husband for certain could never be worse.'

Young Johnny he heard what the damsel did say.He came to her side, and said smiling, 'TodayI have a little cottage and I have a little horseI have a pleasant temper that will not grow worse.

'If you will be mine, and to that will agree,We'll travel together in sweet amity.There never will be wrangle, there never can be strife,Between a good husband and his pretty wife.'

The maiden replied, 'I am not very sure,That fond matrimony my trouble will cure,From daddy and from mammy I quickly run awayAnd go into service for a year and a day.

'The ring that you hold is a link in a chain,Will fetter my freedom, my tongue will restrainI cannot run away, and I never shall be free,So take your kind offer to others than me.'

C.J.S.

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1Alas! my love's enlisted,He wears a white cockade,He is as gay a gallant,As any roving blade.He's gone the king a serving,The white cockade to wear,Whilst my poor heart is breaking,For the love to him I bear.2"Leave off your grief and sorrow,And quit this doleful strain,The white cockade adorns meWhilst marching o'er the plain.When I return I'll marry,By this cockade I swear.Your heart from grief must rally,And my departure bear."3"Fair maid, I bring bad tidings."So did the Sergeant say;"Your love was slain in battle,He sends you this to-day,The white cockade he flourishedNow dabbled in his gore.With his last kiss he sends it,The white cockade he wore."4She spoke no word—her tears,They fell a salten flood;And from the draggled ribbonsWashed out the stains of blood."O mother I am dying!And when in grave I'm laid,Upon my bosom, mother!Then pin the white cockade."

Alas! my love's enlisted,He wears a white cockade,He is as gay a gallant,As any roving blade.He's gone the king a serving,The white cockade to wear,Whilst my poor heart is breaking,For the love to him I bear.

"Leave off your grief and sorrow,And quit this doleful strain,The white cockade adorns meWhilst marching o'er the plain.When I return I'll marry,By this cockade I swear.Your heart from grief must rally,And my departure bear."

"Fair maid, I bring bad tidings."So did the Sergeant say;"Your love was slain in battle,He sends you this to-day,The white cockade he flourishedNow dabbled in his gore.With his last kiss he sends it,The white cockade he wore."

She spoke no word—her tears,They fell a salten flood;And from the draggled ribbonsWashed out the stains of blood."O mother I am dying!And when in grave I'm laid,Upon my bosom, mother!Then pin the white cockade."

C.J.S.

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1Farewell! farewell, my Polly dear!A thousand times adieu!'Tis sad to part; but never fear,Your sailor will be true.And must I go, and leave you so—While thund'ring billows roar?I am afraid, my own sweet maid,Your face I'll see no more.2The weavers and the tailorsAre snoring fast asleep,While we poor 'jolly sailors'Are tossing on the deep:Are tossing on the deep, dear girl,In tempest rage and foam;When seas run high, and dark the sky,We think on those at home.3When Jack's ashore, safe home once more,We lead a merry life;With pipe and glass, and buxom lass,A sweetheart or a wife;We call for liquor merrily,We spend our money free,And when our money's spent and gone,Again we go to sea.4You'll not know where I am, dear girl,But when I'm on the sea,My secret thoughts I will unfurlIn letters home to thee.The secrets, aye! of heart, I say,And best of my good will.My body may lay just where it mayMy heart is with you still.

Farewell! farewell, my Polly dear!A thousand times adieu!'Tis sad to part; but never fear,Your sailor will be true.And must I go, and leave you so—While thund'ring billows roar?I am afraid, my own sweet maid,Your face I'll see no more.

The weavers and the tailorsAre snoring fast asleep,While we poor 'jolly sailors'Are tossing on the deep:Are tossing on the deep, dear girl,In tempest rage and foam;When seas run high, and dark the sky,We think on those at home.

When Jack's ashore, safe home once more,We lead a merry life;With pipe and glass, and buxom lass,A sweetheart or a wife;We call for liquor merrily,We spend our money free,And when our money's spent and gone,Again we go to sea.

You'll not know where I am, dear girl,But when I'm on the sea,My secret thoughts I will unfurlIn letters home to thee.The secrets, aye! of heart, I say,And best of my good will.My body may lay just where it mayMy heart is with you still.

C.J.S.

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1A maiden sat a-weepingDown by the sea shore,What ails my pretty mistress?What ails my pretty mistress?And makes her heart sore!2Because I am a-weary,A-weary in mind,No comfort, and no pleasure, love,No comfort, and no pleasure, love,Henceforth can I find.3I'll spread my sail of silver,I'll loose my rope of silk,My mast is of the cypress-tree,My mast is of the cypress-tree,My track is as milk.4I'll spread my sail of silverI'll steer toward the sunAnd thou, false love wilt weep for me,And thou, false love wilt weep for me,For me—when I am gone.

A maiden sat a-weepingDown by the sea shore,What ails my pretty mistress?What ails my pretty mistress?And makes her heart sore!

Because I am a-weary,A-weary in mind,No comfort, and no pleasure, love,No comfort, and no pleasure, love,Henceforth can I find.

I'll spread my sail of silver,I'll loose my rope of silk,My mast is of the cypress-tree,My mast is of the cypress-tree,My track is as milk.

I'll spread my sail of silverI'll steer toward the sunAnd thou, false love wilt weep for me,And thou, false love wilt weep for me,For me—when I am gone.

F.W.B.

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1I saw a sweet maiden trip over the lea,Her eyes were as loadstones attracting of me.Her cheeks were the roses, that Cupid lurks in,With a bonny blue kerchief tied under her chin.2O where are you going, my fair pretty maid?O whither so swift through the dew drops? I said,I go to my mother, kind sir, for to spin.O the bonny blue kerchief tied under her chin.3[9]Why wear you that kerchief tied over your head?'Tis the country girls' fashion, kind sir, then she said.And the fashion young maidens will always be inSo I wear a blue kerchief tied under my chin.4To kiss her sweet lips then I sought to begin,O nay Sir! she said, 'ere a kiss you would win,Pray show me a ring, tho' of gold the most thin.O slyest blue kerchief tied under the chin!5Why wear abluekerchief, sweet maiden, I said,Because the blue colour is one not to fade,As a sailor's blue jacket who fights for the king,So's my bonny blue kerchief tied under the chin.6The love that I value is certain to last,Not fading and changing, but ever set fast,That only the colour, my love sir to win,So goodbye from the kerchief tied under the chin.

I saw a sweet maiden trip over the lea,Her eyes were as loadstones attracting of me.Her cheeks were the roses, that Cupid lurks in,With a bonny blue kerchief tied under her chin.

O where are you going, my fair pretty maid?O whither so swift through the dew drops? I said,I go to my mother, kind sir, for to spin.O the bonny blue kerchief tied under her chin.

3[9]

Why wear you that kerchief tied over your head?'Tis the country girls' fashion, kind sir, then she said.And the fashion young maidens will always be inSo I wear a blue kerchief tied under my chin.

To kiss her sweet lips then I sought to begin,O nay Sir! she said, 'ere a kiss you would win,Pray show me a ring, tho' of gold the most thin.O slyest blue kerchief tied under the chin!

Why wear abluekerchief, sweet maiden, I said,Because the blue colour is one not to fade,As a sailor's blue jacket who fights for the king,So's my bonny blue kerchief tied under the chin.

The love that I value is certain to last,Not fading and changing, but ever set fast,That only the colour, my love sir to win,So goodbye from the kerchief tied under the chin.

C.J.S.

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1Come to my window, my Love, O my Love,Come to my window, my Dear.For my mammy is asleep,And my daddy snoreth deep,Then come, e'er the day-light appear.2Come to my window, my Love, O my Love,Come to my window, I pray.O the hours so quickly pass,And the dew falls on the grass.Dear Love come, e'er dawneth the day.3Come to my window, my Love, O my Love,Come or my heart strings will break.For the night is speeding by,Soon will morning streak the sky,And my dad and my mam will awake.4Come to my window, my Love, O my Love,Come e'er the stars cease to shine.For my heart is full of fears,And my voice is chok'd with tears,I am Thine, O thou know'st I am Thine.

Come to my window, my Love, O my Love,Come to my window, my Dear.For my mammy is asleep,And my daddy snoreth deep,Then come, e'er the day-light appear.

Come to my window, my Love, O my Love,Come to my window, I pray.O the hours so quickly pass,And the dew falls on the grass.Dear Love come, e'er dawneth the day.

Come to my window, my Love, O my Love,Come or my heart strings will break.For the night is speeding by,Soon will morning streak the sky,And my dad and my mam will awake.

Come to my window, my Love, O my Love,Come e'er the stars cease to shine.For my heart is full of fears,And my voice is chok'd with tears,I am Thine, O thou know'st I am Thine.

C.J.S.

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1Tommy a' Lynn was a Dutchman born,His head was bald and his chin was shorn;He wore a cap made of rabbit's skinWith the skin side out and the wool within.All to my tooth and my link-a-lum-leeTommy a ranter and a rover,Tommy a bone of my stover,Brew, screw, rivet the tin,O a rare old man was Tommy a' Lynn.2Tommy a' Lynn had no boots to put on,But two calves hides with the hair all gone.They were split at the side and the water ran in,I must wear wet feet, said Tommy a' Lynn.All to my tooth, &c.3Tommy a' Lynn has a hunting gone.A saddle of urchin's skins he put on.The urchin's prickles were sharp as a pin,I've got a sore seat, said Tommy a' Lynn.All to my tooth, &c.4Tommy a' Lynn has a hunting gone.A bridle of mouse tails has he put on.The bridle broke and the horse ran away,I'm not well bridled, said Tommy, to-day.All to my tooth, &c.[10]5Tom a' Lynn's daughter, she sat on the stair,O Father I fancy I'm wondrous fair!The stairs they broke, and the maid fell in,You're fair enough now, said Tommy a' Lynn.All to my tooth, &c.6Tommy a' Lynn, his wife and her motherThey all fell into the fire together.Ow yow! said the upper-most, I've a hot skin,It's hotter below! said Tommy a' Lynn.All to my tooth, &c.

Tommy a' Lynn was a Dutchman born,His head was bald and his chin was shorn;He wore a cap made of rabbit's skinWith the skin side out and the wool within.All to my tooth and my link-a-lum-leeTommy a ranter and a rover,Tommy a bone of my stover,Brew, screw, rivet the tin,O a rare old man was Tommy a' Lynn.

Tommy a' Lynn had no boots to put on,But two calves hides with the hair all gone.They were split at the side and the water ran in,I must wear wet feet, said Tommy a' Lynn.All to my tooth, &c.

Tommy a' Lynn has a hunting gone.A saddle of urchin's skins he put on.The urchin's prickles were sharp as a pin,I've got a sore seat, said Tommy a' Lynn.All to my tooth, &c.

Tommy a' Lynn has a hunting gone.A bridle of mouse tails has he put on.The bridle broke and the horse ran away,I'm not well bridled, said Tommy, to-day.All to my tooth, &c.[10]

Tom a' Lynn's daughter, she sat on the stair,O Father I fancy I'm wondrous fair!The stairs they broke, and the maid fell in,You're fair enough now, said Tommy a' Lynn.All to my tooth, &c.

Tommy a' Lynn, his wife and her motherThey all fell into the fire together.Ow yow! said the upper-most, I've a hot skin,It's hotter below! said Tommy a' Lynn.All to my tooth, &c.

H.F.S.

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1As I was a walking one morning in May,To hear the birds whistle, see lambkins at play,I spied a fair damsel, O sweetly sang she—'Down by the green bushes he thinks to meet me.'2'O where are you going, my sweet pretty maid?''My lover I'm seeking, kind sir', she said.'Shall I be your lover, and will you agree,To forsake the old love, and forgather with me?3'I'll buy you fine beavers, a gay silken gown,With furbelowed petticoats flounced to the ground,If you'll leave your old love, and following me,Forsake the green bushes, where he waits for thee?'4'Quick, let us be moving, from under the trees,Quick, let us be moving, kind sir, if you please;For yonder my true love is coming, I see,Down by the green bushes he thinks to meet me.'5The old love arrived, the maiden was goneHe sighed very deeply, he sighed all alone,'She is on with another, before off with me,So, adieu ye green bushes for ever!' said he.6'I'll be as a schoolboy, I'll frolic and play,No false hearted maiden shall trouble my day,Untroubled at night, I will slumber and snore,So, adieu, ye green bushes! I'll fool it no more.'

As I was a walking one morning in May,To hear the birds whistle, see lambkins at play,I spied a fair damsel, O sweetly sang she—'Down by the green bushes he thinks to meet me.'

'O where are you going, my sweet pretty maid?''My lover I'm seeking, kind sir', she said.'Shall I be your lover, and will you agree,To forsake the old love, and forgather with me?

'I'll buy you fine beavers, a gay silken gown,With furbelowed petticoats flounced to the ground,If you'll leave your old love, and following me,Forsake the green bushes, where he waits for thee?'

'Quick, let us be moving, from under the trees,Quick, let us be moving, kind sir, if you please;For yonder my true love is coming, I see,Down by the green bushes he thinks to meet me.'

The old love arrived, the maiden was goneHe sighed very deeply, he sighed all alone,'She is on with another, before off with me,So, adieu ye green bushes for ever!' said he.

'I'll be as a schoolboy, I'll frolic and play,No false hearted maiden shall trouble my day,Untroubled at night, I will slumber and snore,So, adieu, ye green bushes! I'll fool it no more.'

C.J.S.

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1One summer evening, a maiden fairWas walking forth in the balmy air,She met a sailor upon the way;'Maiden stay' he whispered,'Maiden stay' he whispered'O pretty maiden, stay!'2'Why art thou walking abroad alone?The stars are shining, the day is done,'O then her tears they began to flow;For a dark eyed sailor,For a dark eyed sailorHad filled her heart with woe.3'Three years are pass'd since he left this land,A ring of gold he took off my hand,He broke the token, a half to keep,Half he bade me treasure,Half he bade me treasure,Then crossed the briny deep.'4'O drive him damsel from out your mind,For men are changeful as is the wind,And love, inconstant will quickly growCold as winter morningCold as winter morningWhen lands are white with snow.'5'Above the snow is the holly seen,In bitter blast it abideth green,And blood-red drops it as berries bearsSo my aching bosom,So my aching bosom,Its truth and sorrow wears.'6Then half the ring did the sailor show,Away with weeping and sorrow now!'In bands of marriage united weLike the broken TokenLike the broken TokenIn one shall welded be.'

One summer evening, a maiden fairWas walking forth in the balmy air,She met a sailor upon the way;'Maiden stay' he whispered,'Maiden stay' he whispered'O pretty maiden, stay!'

'Why art thou walking abroad alone?The stars are shining, the day is done,'O then her tears they began to flow;For a dark eyed sailor,For a dark eyed sailorHad filled her heart with woe.

'Three years are pass'd since he left this land,A ring of gold he took off my hand,He broke the token, a half to keep,Half he bade me treasure,Half he bade me treasure,Then crossed the briny deep.'

'O drive him damsel from out your mind,For men are changeful as is the wind,And love, inconstant will quickly growCold as winter morningCold as winter morningWhen lands are white with snow.'

'Above the snow is the holly seen,In bitter blast it abideth green,And blood-red drops it as berries bearsSo my aching bosom,So my aching bosom,Its truth and sorrow wears.'

Then half the ring did the sailor show,Away with weeping and sorrow now!'In bands of marriage united weLike the broken TokenLike the broken TokenIn one shall welded be.'

C.J.S.

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1A mole-catcher am I, and that is my trade,I potters about wi' my spunt and my spade,On a moon-shiny night, O! 'tis my delight,A-catching o' moles.2The traps that I set for the mole in his run,There's never a night, sirs, but I catches one.On a moon-shiny night, O! 'tis my delight,A-catching o' moles.3Along of the lanes as by night-time I go,There's things that I see, as the folks don't know,On a moon-shiny night, &c.4There's frolic and lark in the field and the park,For others than moles will be out in the dark,On a moon-shiny night, &c.5The maiden by day that's too modest to speakIs gadding abroad, by the night all the week,On a moon-shiny night, &c.6The 'prentice who should be a lying in bedIs rambling over the meadows instead,On a moon-shiny night, &c.7[11]I light on the poacher wi' sniggle and snare,But that I'll not peach he is surely aware,On a moon-shiny night, &c.8The doctor and lawyer as drunk as a dog,Are wallowing into a ditch or a bog,On a moon-shiny night, &c.9There's many a sight; and there's many a soundWot maketh me laugh as I'm making my round,On a moon-shiny night, &c.10But nothing I sez for I'm mum as a bell,You certainly know that no tales will I tell,On a moon-shiny night, O! 'tis my delight,A-catching o' molesNot human souls.

A mole-catcher am I, and that is my trade,I potters about wi' my spunt and my spade,On a moon-shiny night, O! 'tis my delight,A-catching o' moles.

The traps that I set for the mole in his run,There's never a night, sirs, but I catches one.On a moon-shiny night, O! 'tis my delight,A-catching o' moles.

Along of the lanes as by night-time I go,There's things that I see, as the folks don't know,On a moon-shiny night, &c.

There's frolic and lark in the field and the park,For others than moles will be out in the dark,On a moon-shiny night, &c.

The maiden by day that's too modest to speakIs gadding abroad, by the night all the week,On a moon-shiny night, &c.

The 'prentice who should be a lying in bedIs rambling over the meadows instead,On a moon-shiny night, &c.

7[11]

I light on the poacher wi' sniggle and snare,But that I'll not peach he is surely aware,On a moon-shiny night, &c.

The doctor and lawyer as drunk as a dog,Are wallowing into a ditch or a bog,On a moon-shiny night, &c.

There's many a sight; and there's many a soundWot maketh me laugh as I'm making my round,On a moon-shiny night, &c.

But nothing I sez for I'm mum as a bell,You certainly know that no tales will I tell,On a moon-shiny night, O! 'tis my delight,A-catching o' molesNot human souls.

C.J.S.

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1Old Uncle Pengerric a Captain was,A dowser shrewd was he;Who feathered his nest from the keenly lodeThat ruined you and me.The Captain was traversing Brandy Moor,With hazel twig in hand,The hazel twisted and turned aboutAnd brought him to a stand.CHORUS. Oh! the keenly lode, the keenly lodeOf bâlls the best, my boys;Old Uncle Pengerric very well know'dHow to feather his nest, my boys.2Old Uncle Pengerric so big did bragOf ore in Brandy Bâll,"Come fork out your money my Christian friends,Your fortunes treble all."Now Uncle was reckoned a preacher stout,A burning and shining light.The people all said, "What he has in headWill surely turn out right."CHORUS. Oh! the keenly lode, &c.3The Company floated, the Shares up paid,The gold came flowing in.He set up a whim, and began to sinkFor the keenly lode of tin.He had not burrowed but five foot six'Ere he came to a buried hoss.Said Uncle Pengerric, "No fault of mine,Tho't turn out some one's loss."CHORUS. Oh! the keenly lode, &c.4The shaft descended, but ne'er a grainOf ore was brought to ground.And presently Uncle Pengerric too,Was not in Cornwall found.But wherever he goes, and whenever he talks,He says:—"The rod told true,It brought to me luck, but it turn'd and struckAt nought but an old horse-shoe."CHORUS. Oh! the keenly lode, &c.

Old Uncle Pengerric a Captain was,A dowser shrewd was he;Who feathered his nest from the keenly lodeThat ruined you and me.The Captain was traversing Brandy Moor,With hazel twig in hand,The hazel twisted and turned aboutAnd brought him to a stand.CHORUS. Oh! the keenly lode, the keenly lodeOf bâlls the best, my boys;Old Uncle Pengerric very well know'dHow to feather his nest, my boys.

Old Uncle Pengerric so big did bragOf ore in Brandy Bâll,"Come fork out your money my Christian friends,Your fortunes treble all."Now Uncle was reckoned a preacher stout,A burning and shining light.The people all said, "What he has in headWill surely turn out right."CHORUS. Oh! the keenly lode, &c.

The Company floated, the Shares up paid,The gold came flowing in.He set up a whim, and began to sinkFor the keenly lode of tin.He had not burrowed but five foot six'Ere he came to a buried hoss.Said Uncle Pengerric, "No fault of mine,Tho't turn out some one's loss."CHORUS. Oh! the keenly lode, &c.

The shaft descended, but ne'er a grainOf ore was brought to ground.And presently Uncle Pengerric too,Was not in Cornwall found.But wherever he goes, and whenever he talks,He says:—"The rod told true,It brought to me luck, but it turn'd and struckAt nought but an old horse-shoe."CHORUS. Oh! the keenly lode, &c.

Note: A Keenly Lode is a Lode that promises well.A Bâll is the Cornish for a mine.

Note: A Keenly Lode is a Lode that promises well.

A Bâll is the Cornish for a mine.

C.J.S.

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1Awake, ye pretty maids, awake,Refreshed from drowsy dream,And haste to dairy house, and takeFor us a dish of cream.2If not a dish of yellow cream,Then give us kisses three;The woodland bower is white with flower,And green is every tree.3A branch of May we bear aboutBefore the door it stands;There's not a sprout unbudded out,The work of God's own hands.4Awake, awake ye pretty maids,And take the May-bush in,Or 'twill be gone ere tomorrow morn,And you'll have none within.5Throughout the night, before the light,There fell the dew or rain,It twinkles bright on May bush white,It sparkles on the plain.6The heavenly gates are open wideTo let escape the dew,And heavenly grace falls on each placeIt drops on us and you.7The life of man is but a span,He blossoms as a flower,He makes no stay, is here to-day,And vanish'd in an hour.[12]8My song is done, I must be gone,Nor make a longer stay.God bless you all, both great and small,And send you gladsome May.

Awake, ye pretty maids, awake,Refreshed from drowsy dream,And haste to dairy house, and takeFor us a dish of cream.

If not a dish of yellow cream,Then give us kisses three;The woodland bower is white with flower,And green is every tree.

A branch of May we bear aboutBefore the door it stands;There's not a sprout unbudded out,The work of God's own hands.

Awake, awake ye pretty maids,And take the May-bush in,Or 'twill be gone ere tomorrow morn,And you'll have none within.

Throughout the night, before the light,There fell the dew or rain,It twinkles bright on May bush white,It sparkles on the plain.

The heavenly gates are open wideTo let escape the dew,And heavenly grace falls on each placeIt drops on us and you.

The life of man is but a span,He blossoms as a flower,He makes no stay, is here to-day,And vanish'd in an hour.[12]

My song is done, I must be gone,Nor make a longer stay.God bless you all, both great and small,And send you gladsome May.

C.J.S.

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1He:O buy me, my Lady, a cambric shirtWhilst every grove rings with a merry antine(antienneanthem)And stitch it without any needle workAnd thou shalt be a true lover of mine.2O thou must wash it in yonder well,Whilst every grove &c.Where never a drop of water in fell,And thou shalt &c.3And thou must bleach it on yonder grass,Whilst every grove &c.Where never a foot or hoof did pass.And thou shalt &c.4And thou must hang it upon a white thorn,Whilst every grove &c.That never blossom'd since Adam was bornAnd thou shalt &c.5And when these works are finished and doneWhilst every grove &c.I'll take and marry thee under the sun.And thou shalt &c.6[13]She:Thou must buy for me an acre of land,Whilst every grove &c.Between the salt sea and the yellow sandAnd thou shalt &c.7Thou must plough it o'er with a horses hornWhilst every grove &c.And sow it over with a pepper corn,And thou shalt &c.8Thou must reap it, too, with a piece of leather,Whilst every grove &c.And bind it up with a peacock's feather,And thou shalt &c.9Thou must take it up in a bottomless sack,Whilst every grove &c.And bear it to the mill on a butterfly's back.And thou shalt &c.10And when these works are finished and doneWhilst every grove &c.I'll take and marry thee under the sun.And thou shalt &c.

He:O buy me, my Lady, a cambric shirtWhilst every grove rings with a merry antine(antienneanthem)And stitch it without any needle workAnd thou shalt be a true lover of mine.

O thou must wash it in yonder well,Whilst every grove &c.Where never a drop of water in fell,And thou shalt &c.

And thou must bleach it on yonder grass,Whilst every grove &c.Where never a foot or hoof did pass.And thou shalt &c.

And thou must hang it upon a white thorn,Whilst every grove &c.That never blossom'd since Adam was bornAnd thou shalt &c.

And when these works are finished and doneWhilst every grove &c.I'll take and marry thee under the sun.And thou shalt &c.

6[13]

She:Thou must buy for me an acre of land,Whilst every grove &c.Between the salt sea and the yellow sandAnd thou shalt &c.

Thou must plough it o'er with a horses hornWhilst every grove &c.And sow it over with a pepper corn,And thou shalt &c.

Thou must reap it, too, with a piece of leather,Whilst every grove &c.And bind it up with a peacock's feather,And thou shalt &c.

Thou must take it up in a bottomless sack,Whilst every grove &c.And bear it to the mill on a butterfly's back.And thou shalt &c.

And when these works are finished and doneWhilst every grove &c.I'll take and marry thee under the sun.And thou shalt &c.

H.F.S.

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1Sleep, baby sleep!Dad is not nigh,Tossed on the deep,Lul-lul-a-by!Moon shining bright,Dropping of dew.Owls hoot all nightTo-whit! to-whoo!2Sleep, baby sleep!Dad is away,Tossed on the deep,Looking for day.In the hedge rowGlow-worms alight,Rivulets flow,All through the night.3Sleep, baby sleep!Dad is afar,Tossed on the deep,Watching a star.Clock going—tick,Tack—in the dark.On the hearth-brick,Dies the last spark.4Sleep, baby sleep!What! not a wink!Dad on the deep,What will he think?Baby dear, soonDaddy will come,Bringing red shoonFor baby at home.

Sleep, baby sleep!Dad is not nigh,Tossed on the deep,Lul-lul-a-by!Moon shining bright,Dropping of dew.Owls hoot all nightTo-whit! to-whoo!

Sleep, baby sleep!Dad is away,Tossed on the deep,Looking for day.In the hedge rowGlow-worms alight,Rivulets flow,All through the night.

Sleep, baby sleep!Dad is afar,Tossed on the deep,Watching a star.Clock going—tick,Tack—in the dark.On the hearth-brick,Dies the last spark.

Sleep, baby sleep!What! not a wink!Dad on the deep,What will he think?Baby dear, soonDaddy will come,Bringing red shoonFor baby at home.

C.J.S.

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1There came an Earl a riding by,A gipsy maid espyed he;"O nut-brown maid, from green-wood glade,O prithee come along with me.""In green-wood glade, fair Sir!" she said,"I am so blythe, as bird so gay.In thy castle tall, in bower and hall,I fear for grief I'd pine away."2"Thou shalt no more be set in stocks,And tramp about from town to town,But thou shalt ride in pomp and prideIn velvet red and broidered gown.""My brothers three no more I'd see,If that I went with thee, I trow.They sing me to sleep, with songs so sweet,They sing as on our way we go."3"Thou shalt not be torn by thistle and thorn,With thy bare feet all in the dew.But shoes shall wear of Spanish leatherAnd silken stockings all of blue.""I will not go to thy castle high,For thou wilt weary soon, I know,Of the gipsy maid, from green-wood glade,And drive her forth in rain and snow."4"All night you lie neath the starry skyIn rain and snow you trudge all day,But thy brown head, in a feather bed,When left the gipsies, thou shalt lay.""I love to lie 'neath the starry sky,I do not heed the snow and rain,But fickle as wind, I fear to findThe man who now my heart would gain."5"I will thee wed, sweet maid," he said,"I will thee wed with a golden ring,Thy days shall be spent in merriment;For us the marriage bells shall swing."The dog did howl, and screech'd the owl,The raven croaked, the night-wind sighed;The wedding bell from the steeple fell,As home the Earl did bear his bride.

There came an Earl a riding by,A gipsy maid espyed he;"O nut-brown maid, from green-wood glade,O prithee come along with me.""In green-wood glade, fair Sir!" she said,"I am so blythe, as bird so gay.In thy castle tall, in bower and hall,I fear for grief I'd pine away."

"Thou shalt no more be set in stocks,And tramp about from town to town,But thou shalt ride in pomp and prideIn velvet red and broidered gown.""My brothers three no more I'd see,If that I went with thee, I trow.They sing me to sleep, with songs so sweet,They sing as on our way we go."

"Thou shalt not be torn by thistle and thorn,With thy bare feet all in the dew.But shoes shall wear of Spanish leatherAnd silken stockings all of blue.""I will not go to thy castle high,For thou wilt weary soon, I know,Of the gipsy maid, from green-wood glade,And drive her forth in rain and snow."

"All night you lie neath the starry skyIn rain and snow you trudge all day,But thy brown head, in a feather bed,When left the gipsies, thou shalt lay.""I love to lie 'neath the starry sky,I do not heed the snow and rain,But fickle as wind, I fear to findThe man who now my heart would gain."

"I will thee wed, sweet maid," he said,"I will thee wed with a golden ring,Thy days shall be spent in merriment;For us the marriage bells shall swing."The dog did howl, and screech'd the owl,The raven croaked, the night-wind sighed;The wedding bell from the steeple fell,As home the Earl did bear his bride.

C.J.S.

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1Three Gipsies stood at the Castle gate,They sang so high, they sang so low,The lady sate in her chamber late,Her heart it melted away as snow,Away as snow,Her heart it melted away as snow.2They sang so sweet; they sang so shrill,That fast her tears began to flow.And she laid down her silken gown,Her golden rings, and all her show,All her show &c.3[14]She plucked off her high-heeled shoes,A-made of Spanish leather, O.She would in the street; with her bare, bare feet;All out in the wind and weather, O.Weather, O! &c.4She took in hand but a one posie,The wildest flowers that do grow.And down the stair went the lady fair,To go away with the gipsies, O!The gipsies, O! &c.5At past midnight her lord came home,And where his lady was would know;The servants replied on every side,She's gone away with the gipsies, O!The gipsies, O! &c.6[15]Then he rode high, and he rode low,And over hill and vale, I trow,Until he espied his fair young bride,Who'd gone away with the gipsies, O!The gipsies, O! &c.7[16]O will you leave your house and lands,Your golden treasures for to go,Away from your lord that weareth a sword,To follow along with the gipsies, O!The gipsies, O! &c.8O I will leave my house and lands,My golden treasures for to go,I love not my lord that weareth a sword,I'll follow along with the gipsies, O!The gipsies, O! &c.9'Nay, thou shalt not!' then he drew, I wot,The sword that hung at his saddle bow,And once he smote on her lily-white throat,And there her red blood down did flowDown did flow, &c.10Then dipp'd in blood was the posie good,That was of the wildest flowers that blow.She sank on her side, and so she died,For she would away with the gipsies, O!The gipsies, O!For she would away with the gipsies O!

Three Gipsies stood at the Castle gate,They sang so high, they sang so low,The lady sate in her chamber late,Her heart it melted away as snow,Away as snow,Her heart it melted away as snow.

They sang so sweet; they sang so shrill,That fast her tears began to flow.And she laid down her silken gown,Her golden rings, and all her show,All her show &c.

3[14]

She plucked off her high-heeled shoes,A-made of Spanish leather, O.She would in the street; with her bare, bare feet;All out in the wind and weather, O.Weather, O! &c.

She took in hand but a one posie,The wildest flowers that do grow.And down the stair went the lady fair,To go away with the gipsies, O!The gipsies, O! &c.

At past midnight her lord came home,And where his lady was would know;The servants replied on every side,She's gone away with the gipsies, O!The gipsies, O! &c.

6[15]

Then he rode high, and he rode low,And over hill and vale, I trow,Until he espied his fair young bride,Who'd gone away with the gipsies, O!The gipsies, O! &c.

7[16]

O will you leave your house and lands,Your golden treasures for to go,Away from your lord that weareth a sword,To follow along with the gipsies, O!The gipsies, O! &c.

O I will leave my house and lands,My golden treasures for to go,I love not my lord that weareth a sword,I'll follow along with the gipsies, O!The gipsies, O! &c.

'Nay, thou shalt not!' then he drew, I wot,The sword that hung at his saddle bow,And once he smote on her lily-white throat,And there her red blood down did flowDown did flow, &c.

Then dipp'd in blood was the posie good,That was of the wildest flowers that blow.She sank on her side, and so she died,For she would away with the gipsies, O!The gipsies, O!For she would away with the gipsies O!

C.J.S.

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1Young Roger, the Miller, went courting of lateA farmer's sweet daughter called Beautiful Kate;Now Kitty was buxom, and bonny and fair,Had plenty of humour, of frolic a share,And her father possessed an uncommon grey mare,A grey mare, a grey mare,An uncommon grey mare.2So Roger he dressed himself up as a beau,He comb'd down his locks, and in collars of snow,He went to the farmer, and said, "How d'y do?I love pretty Kitty, to her I'll prove true;Will you give me the grey mare and Katherine too,The grey mare, the grey mare &c.3"She's a very nice maiden, a-courting I'm come.Lawks! how I would like the grey mare to ride home!I love your sweet daughter so much I declare,I'm ready my mill—and my stable—to share,With Kitty the charming, and with the grey mare,The grey mare, the grey mare &c."4"You're welcome to her, to her hand and her heart,But from the grey mare, man, I never will part."So said the old farmer,—then Roger, "I swear,It is up with my courting, for Kate I don't care,Unless I be given as well the grey mare.The grey mare, the grey mare &c."5The years had pass'd swiftly, when withered and grey,Old Roger, the Miller, met Katherine one day,Said he, "I remember you, buxom and fair,As roses your cheeks and as broom was your hairAnd I came a courting!—Ah, Kate! the grey mare,The grey mare, the grey mare &c."6"I remember your coming to court the grey mareVery well, Mr.Roger, when golden my hair,And cheeks were as roses that bloom on the wall.But, lawks! Mr.Roger,—I can not recallThat e'er you came sweet-heartingme, man, at all,But the mare, the grey mareThat uncommon grey mare."

Young Roger, the Miller, went courting of lateA farmer's sweet daughter called Beautiful Kate;Now Kitty was buxom, and bonny and fair,Had plenty of humour, of frolic a share,And her father possessed an uncommon grey mare,A grey mare, a grey mare,An uncommon grey mare.

So Roger he dressed himself up as a beau,He comb'd down his locks, and in collars of snow,He went to the farmer, and said, "How d'y do?I love pretty Kitty, to her I'll prove true;Will you give me the grey mare and Katherine too,The grey mare, the grey mare &c.

"She's a very nice maiden, a-courting I'm come.Lawks! how I would like the grey mare to ride home!I love your sweet daughter so much I declare,I'm ready my mill—and my stable—to share,With Kitty the charming, and with the grey mare,The grey mare, the grey mare &c."

"You're welcome to her, to her hand and her heart,But from the grey mare, man, I never will part."So said the old farmer,—then Roger, "I swear,It is up with my courting, for Kate I don't care,Unless I be given as well the grey mare.The grey mare, the grey mare &c."

The years had pass'd swiftly, when withered and grey,Old Roger, the Miller, met Katherine one day,Said he, "I remember you, buxom and fair,As roses your cheeks and as broom was your hairAnd I came a courting!—Ah, Kate! the grey mare,The grey mare, the grey mare &c."

"I remember your coming to court the grey mareVery well, Mr.Roger, when golden my hair,And cheeks were as roses that bloom on the wall.But, lawks! Mr.Roger,—I can not recallThat e'er you came sweet-heartingme, man, at all,But the mare, the grey mareThat uncommon grey mare."

H.F.S.

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1Come all you brisk young sailors boldThat plough the raging main,A tragedy I will unfoldIn story sad and plain.From my true love 'twas pressed was IThe gallant ship to steerTo Indies west,—each heart beat highWith confidence and cheer.2A year was gone, and home at last,We turn'd with swelling sail,When—'ere the Scilly over-passedThere broke on us a gale.The boatswain up aloft did go.He went aloft so high.More angry did the ocean grow,More menacing the sky.3To make the stripe in vain we triedThe Scilly rocks to clear,The thunder of the furious tideWas filling every ear.There came a sharp and sudden shock,—Each thought of wife and home!The gallant ship was on a rock,And swept with wave and foam.4Of eighty seamen 'prised the crew,But one did reach the shore,The gallant vessel, good and true,Was shattered aft and fore.The news to Plymouth swift did fly,That our good ship was gone;And wet with tears was many an eye,And many a widow lone.5And when I came to Plymouth soundAlive, of eighty dead,My pretty love, then false I foundAnd to a landsman wed.O gentles all that live on landBe-think the boys at sea,Lo! here I stand with cap in hand,And crave your charity.

Come all you brisk young sailors boldThat plough the raging main,A tragedy I will unfoldIn story sad and plain.From my true love 'twas pressed was IThe gallant ship to steerTo Indies west,—each heart beat highWith confidence and cheer.

A year was gone, and home at last,We turn'd with swelling sail,When—'ere the Scilly over-passedThere broke on us a gale.The boatswain up aloft did go.He went aloft so high.More angry did the ocean grow,More menacing the sky.

To make the stripe in vain we triedThe Scilly rocks to clear,The thunder of the furious tideWas filling every ear.There came a sharp and sudden shock,—Each thought of wife and home!The gallant ship was on a rock,And swept with wave and foam.

Of eighty seamen 'prised the crew,But one did reach the shore,The gallant vessel, good and true,Was shattered aft and fore.The news to Plymouth swift did fly,That our good ship was gone;And wet with tears was many an eye,And many a widow lone.

And when I came to Plymouth soundAlive, of eighty dead,My pretty love, then false I foundAnd to a landsman wed.O gentles all that live on landBe-think the boys at sea,Lo! here I stand with cap in hand,And crave your charity.

C.J.S.

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