SCARBORO' SANDS.

LOVE'S like I deant knaw what,Deevil cannot match it,Auld, young and middle aged,Is sarten sure ta catch it;I catched it yance misen,It made me quite uneasy,And when I gat a wifeBy gum she set me crazy.Dolly Dugging I teak ta be my wife sir,I did noutt but cry she lid me sic a life sir,I niver efter smiled nor spent ane hour i' laughter,She war a hangel forst but she proved a deevil efter.It happened on a time I axed a friend ta dinner,I needed some mysen I'd grown sae mickle thinner,Doll bought sum ribs o' beef when doon sits I and Davy,She gave us beans ta pick while she tuk meat and gravy.About a week fra this,Our Dolly 'd getten collick,Now thinks I ta mysen,This is time for frolick.Dolly prayed neet and day,As lang as she prayed I swer,She prayed she might live,But I prayed she might dee sir.Sud Bonyparte cumI'd fit him for his folly,For I cud'nt wish him warse,Than wedded tiv our Dolly;She'd bring his courage doon,And him severely handle,Ay and mak him sune as fond,As ony farden can'le.[196]

LOVE'S like I deant knaw what,

Deevil cannot match it,

Auld, young and middle aged,

Is sarten sure ta catch it;

I catched it yance misen,

It made me quite uneasy,

And when I gat a wife

By gum she set me crazy.

Dolly Dugging I teak ta be my wife sir,

I did noutt but cry she lid me sic a life sir,

I niver efter smiled nor spent ane hour i' laughter,

She war a hangel forst but she proved a deevil efter.

It happened on a time I axed a friend ta dinner,I needed some mysen I'd grown sae mickle thinner,Doll bought sum ribs o' beef when doon sits I and Davy,She gave us beans ta pick while she tuk meat and gravy.

It happened on a time I axed a friend ta dinner,

I needed some mysen I'd grown sae mickle thinner,

Doll bought sum ribs o' beef when doon sits I and Davy,

She gave us beans ta pick while she tuk meat and gravy.

About a week fra this,Our Dolly 'd getten collick,Now thinks I ta mysen,This is time for frolick.Dolly prayed neet and day,As lang as she prayed I swer,She prayed she might live,But I prayed she might dee sir.

About a week fra this,

Our Dolly 'd getten collick,

Now thinks I ta mysen,

This is time for frolick.

Dolly prayed neet and day,

As lang as she prayed I swer,

She prayed she might live,

But I prayed she might dee sir.

Sud Bonyparte cumI'd fit him for his folly,For I cud'nt wish him warse,Than wedded tiv our Dolly;She'd bring his courage doon,And him severely handle,Ay and mak him sune as fond,As ony farden can'le.[196]

Sud Bonyparte cum

I'd fit him for his folly,

For I cud'nt wish him warse,

Than wedded tiv our Dolly;

She'd bring his courage doon,

And him severely handle,

Ay and mak him sune as fond,

As ony farden can'le.[196]

AS I was a walking over Scarboro' Sands,Some dainty fine sport for to see;The lasses were crying and wringing their hands,Saying the Rout it is come for the Blues.Dolly unto her old mother did say,"My heart's full of love that is true;"She packed up her clothes without more delay,To take the last leave of the Blues.Our landlords and landladys walk arm in arm,And so does the young women too,You'd have laughed if you'd seen how the lasses flocked in,To take the last leave of the Blues.We tarried all night and part of next day,For sweethearts we had got enough,The times being hard the lasses did spare,A glass of good gin for the Blues.Such sparkling young fellows sure never was seen,As the Blues and her Majesty too;You may search the world over and Yorkshire all through,There's none to compare to the Blues.The boats being ready these lads to jump in,The music so sweetly did play;They gave out their voices with three loud huzzas,Success to the Queen and her Blues.[197]

AS I was a walking over Scarboro' Sands,Some dainty fine sport for to see;The lasses were crying and wringing their hands,Saying the Rout it is come for the Blues.

AS I was a walking over Scarboro' Sands,

Some dainty fine sport for to see;

The lasses were crying and wringing their hands,

Saying the Rout it is come for the Blues.

Dolly unto her old mother did say,"My heart's full of love that is true;"She packed up her clothes without more delay,To take the last leave of the Blues.

Dolly unto her old mother did say,

"My heart's full of love that is true;"

She packed up her clothes without more delay,

To take the last leave of the Blues.

Our landlords and landladys walk arm in arm,And so does the young women too,You'd have laughed if you'd seen how the lasses flocked in,To take the last leave of the Blues.

Our landlords and landladys walk arm in arm,

And so does the young women too,

You'd have laughed if you'd seen how the lasses flocked in,

To take the last leave of the Blues.

We tarried all night and part of next day,For sweethearts we had got enough,The times being hard the lasses did spare,A glass of good gin for the Blues.

We tarried all night and part of next day,

For sweethearts we had got enough,

The times being hard the lasses did spare,

A glass of good gin for the Blues.

Such sparkling young fellows sure never was seen,As the Blues and her Majesty too;You may search the world over and Yorkshire all through,There's none to compare to the Blues.

Such sparkling young fellows sure never was seen,

As the Blues and her Majesty too;

You may search the world over and Yorkshire all through,

There's none to compare to the Blues.

The boats being ready these lads to jump in,The music so sweetly did play;They gave out their voices with three loud huzzas,Success to the Queen and her Blues.[197]

The boats being ready these lads to jump in,

The music so sweetly did play;

They gave out their voices with three loud huzzas,

Success to the Queen and her Blues.[197]

IWAS brought up in Sheffield, but not of an high degree,My parents doated on me, they had no child but me;I rolled in such pleasures, just where my fancy led,Then I was bound apprentice, and all my joys were fled.I did not like my master, he did not use me well,I made a resolution not long with him to dwell,Unknown to my parents from him I ran away,And steer'd my course to London on an unhappy day.A wealthy rich young lady from Holland met me there,And offered me great wages to serve her for a year,At last with great persuasion with her I did agree,To go and live in Holland which proved my destiny.I had not been in Holland passing half a year,Before my young mistress grew very fond of me,"My gold and my silver, my houses and my land,If you'll consent to wed with me shall be at your command."I said, "Dear honoured lady, I cannot wed you now,For I have lately promised and made a solemn vowTo wed none but Polly, your pretty chambermaid,Excuse me my dear mistres', she has my heart betray'd."Then in an angry humour she went from me away,Resolved within herself to make me dearly pay,She was so much perplexed she could not be my wife,She soon contrived a tragedy to take away my life.One day we were talking in the garden, fine and gay,A viewing of the flowers that grew so fine and gay,The gold ring on her finger, as I was passing by,She slipped into my pocket and for it I must die.My mistress swore I'd robbed her and quickly I was broughtBefore a grave old justice to answer for my fault,Long time I pleaded innocent but that was all in vain,She swore point blank against me and I was sent to jail.Then our royal assizes were drawing on apace,Presently on me the judge a sentence past,To the place of execution they brought me to a tree,And may God forgive my mistress for she has wronged me.All you who come to see me now, hear before I die,Don't laugh at my downfall nor smile at my disgrace,Believe me I'm quite innocent, I bid this world adieu,Farewell my dearest Polly, I die thro' loving you.

IWAS brought up in Sheffield, but not of an high degree,

My parents doated on me, they had no child but me;

I rolled in such pleasures, just where my fancy led,

Then I was bound apprentice, and all my joys were fled.

I did not like my master, he did not use me well,I made a resolution not long with him to dwell,Unknown to my parents from him I ran away,And steer'd my course to London on an unhappy day.

I did not like my master, he did not use me well,

I made a resolution not long with him to dwell,

Unknown to my parents from him I ran away,

And steer'd my course to London on an unhappy day.

A wealthy rich young lady from Holland met me there,And offered me great wages to serve her for a year,At last with great persuasion with her I did agree,To go and live in Holland which proved my destiny.

A wealthy rich young lady from Holland met me there,

And offered me great wages to serve her for a year,

At last with great persuasion with her I did agree,

To go and live in Holland which proved my destiny.

I had not been in Holland passing half a year,Before my young mistress grew very fond of me,"My gold and my silver, my houses and my land,If you'll consent to wed with me shall be at your command."

I had not been in Holland passing half a year,

Before my young mistress grew very fond of me,

"My gold and my silver, my houses and my land,

If you'll consent to wed with me shall be at your command."

I said, "Dear honoured lady, I cannot wed you now,For I have lately promised and made a solemn vowTo wed none but Polly, your pretty chambermaid,Excuse me my dear mistres', she has my heart betray'd."

I said, "Dear honoured lady, I cannot wed you now,

For I have lately promised and made a solemn vow

To wed none but Polly, your pretty chambermaid,

Excuse me my dear mistres', she has my heart betray'd."

Then in an angry humour she went from me away,Resolved within herself to make me dearly pay,She was so much perplexed she could not be my wife,She soon contrived a tragedy to take away my life.

Then in an angry humour she went from me away,

Resolved within herself to make me dearly pay,

She was so much perplexed she could not be my wife,

She soon contrived a tragedy to take away my life.

One day we were talking in the garden, fine and gay,A viewing of the flowers that grew so fine and gay,The gold ring on her finger, as I was passing by,She slipped into my pocket and for it I must die.

One day we were talking in the garden, fine and gay,

A viewing of the flowers that grew so fine and gay,

The gold ring on her finger, as I was passing by,

She slipped into my pocket and for it I must die.

My mistress swore I'd robbed her and quickly I was broughtBefore a grave old justice to answer for my fault,Long time I pleaded innocent but that was all in vain,She swore point blank against me and I was sent to jail.

My mistress swore I'd robbed her and quickly I was brought

Before a grave old justice to answer for my fault,

Long time I pleaded innocent but that was all in vain,

She swore point blank against me and I was sent to jail.

Then our royal assizes were drawing on apace,Presently on me the judge a sentence past,To the place of execution they brought me to a tree,And may God forgive my mistress for she has wronged me.

Then our royal assizes were drawing on apace,

Presently on me the judge a sentence past,

To the place of execution they brought me to a tree,

And may God forgive my mistress for she has wronged me.

All you who come to see me now, hear before I die,Don't laugh at my downfall nor smile at my disgrace,Believe me I'm quite innocent, I bid this world adieu,Farewell my dearest Polly, I die thro' loving you.

All you who come to see me now, hear before I die,

Don't laugh at my downfall nor smile at my disgrace,

Believe me I'm quite innocent, I bid this world adieu,

Farewell my dearest Polly, I die thro' loving you.

BY HERBERT STOCKHORE, PRIVATE IN EARL FAUCONBERG'S YORKSHIRE NORTH RIDING VOLUNTEERS.

Tune, "Push about the Jorum."

YE Stockton lads and lasses too,Come listen to my story,A dismal tale, because 'tis true,I've now to lay before ye;We must away, our rout is come,We scarce refrain from tears O,Shrill shrieks the fife, rough roars the drum,March, Yorkshire Volunteers, O.Fal lal lal la ral.Yet ere we part, my comrades say,Come, Stockhore, you're the poet,If ere you'd pen a grateful lay,'Tis now the time to show it;Such usage kind, in these good towns,We've met from age and youth, sirs,Accept our heartfelt thanks, and onceA poet sings the truth, sirs.Fal lal, &c.Ye lasses too, of all I see,Ye're fairest in the nation;Sweet buds of beauty's blooming tree,The top of the creation;Full many of our lads, I ween,Have got good wives and true, sirs,I wonder what our leaders mean,They have not done so too, sirs.Fal lal, &c.Perhaps—but hark! the thund'ring drumFrom love to arms is beating;Our country calls, we come, we come,Great George's praise repeating;He's great and good, long may he hereReign, every bliss possessing,And long may each true volunteerBehold him Britain's blessing.Fal lal, &c.Our valiant earl[200]shall lead us on,The nearest way to glory,Bright honour hails her darling son,And fame records his story;Dundas commands upon our listsThe second, tho' on earth, sirs,No one his second to, exists,For courage, sense, and worth, sirs.Fal lal, &c.No venal muse before your view,Next sets a veteran bold, sirs,The praise to merit justly due,From Paul she cannot hold, sirs;His valour oft has bore the test,In war he's brisk and handy;His private virtues stand confest,In short, he's quite the dandy.Fal lal, &c.Brave Mackarall heads his grenadiers,They're just the lads to do it,And should the dons or lank MonsieursCome here, he'll make them rue it.He'll roar his thunder, make them flee,With a row, row, row, row, rara,And do them o'er by land,—at sea,As Rodney did Langara.[201]Young Thompson and his lads so lightOf foot, with hearts of steel, O,His country's cause shall nobly fight,And make her foes to feel, O,For should the frog-fed sons of Gaul,Come capering à la Francois,"My lads," said he, "we'll teach them allThe light-bob country dance, A."Fal lal, &c.Our leaders all so brave and bold,Shou'd I in verse recite, A,A baggage waggon wou'd not holdThe songs that I cou'd write, A:Their deeds so great, their words so mild,O take our worst commander,And to him Cæsar was a child,And so was Alexander.Fal lal, &c.Such men as these we'll follow thro'The world, and brave all danger;Each volunteer is firm and true,His heart's to fear a stranger;Good folks farewell, God bless the king,With angels centry o'er him;Now, hark! to Winchester, we'll sing,And push about the jorum.Fal lal lal la ral.

YE Stockton lads and lasses too,

Come listen to my story,

A dismal tale, because 'tis true,

I've now to lay before ye;

We must away, our rout is come,

We scarce refrain from tears O,

Shrill shrieks the fife, rough roars the drum,

March, Yorkshire Volunteers, O.

Fal lal lal la ral.

Yet ere we part, my comrades say,Come, Stockhore, you're the poet,If ere you'd pen a grateful lay,'Tis now the time to show it;Such usage kind, in these good towns,We've met from age and youth, sirs,Accept our heartfelt thanks, and onceA poet sings the truth, sirs.Fal lal, &c.

Yet ere we part, my comrades say,

Come, Stockhore, you're the poet,

If ere you'd pen a grateful lay,

'Tis now the time to show it;

Such usage kind, in these good towns,

We've met from age and youth, sirs,

Accept our heartfelt thanks, and once

A poet sings the truth, sirs.

Fal lal, &c.

Ye lasses too, of all I see,Ye're fairest in the nation;Sweet buds of beauty's blooming tree,The top of the creation;Full many of our lads, I ween,Have got good wives and true, sirs,I wonder what our leaders mean,They have not done so too, sirs.Fal lal, &c.

Ye lasses too, of all I see,

Ye're fairest in the nation;

Sweet buds of beauty's blooming tree,

The top of the creation;

Full many of our lads, I ween,

Have got good wives and true, sirs,

I wonder what our leaders mean,

They have not done so too, sirs.

Fal lal, &c.

Perhaps—but hark! the thund'ring drumFrom love to arms is beating;Our country calls, we come, we come,Great George's praise repeating;He's great and good, long may he hereReign, every bliss possessing,And long may each true volunteerBehold him Britain's blessing.Fal lal, &c.

Perhaps—but hark! the thund'ring drum

From love to arms is beating;

Our country calls, we come, we come,

Great George's praise repeating;

He's great and good, long may he here

Reign, every bliss possessing,

And long may each true volunteer

Behold him Britain's blessing.

Fal lal, &c.

Our valiant earl[200]shall lead us on,The nearest way to glory,Bright honour hails her darling son,And fame records his story;Dundas commands upon our listsThe second, tho' on earth, sirs,No one his second to, exists,For courage, sense, and worth, sirs.Fal lal, &c.

Our valiant earl[200]shall lead us on,

The nearest way to glory,

Bright honour hails her darling son,

And fame records his story;

Dundas commands upon our lists

The second, tho' on earth, sirs,

No one his second to, exists,

For courage, sense, and worth, sirs.

Fal lal, &c.

No venal muse before your view,Next sets a veteran bold, sirs,The praise to merit justly due,From Paul she cannot hold, sirs;His valour oft has bore the test,In war he's brisk and handy;His private virtues stand confest,In short, he's quite the dandy.Fal lal, &c.

No venal muse before your view,

Next sets a veteran bold, sirs,

The praise to merit justly due,

From Paul she cannot hold, sirs;

His valour oft has bore the test,

In war he's brisk and handy;

His private virtues stand confest,

In short, he's quite the dandy.

Fal lal, &c.

Brave Mackarall heads his grenadiers,They're just the lads to do it,And should the dons or lank MonsieursCome here, he'll make them rue it.He'll roar his thunder, make them flee,With a row, row, row, row, rara,And do them o'er by land,—at sea,As Rodney did Langara.[201]

Brave Mackarall heads his grenadiers,

They're just the lads to do it,

And should the dons or lank Monsieurs

Come here, he'll make them rue it.

He'll roar his thunder, make them flee,

With a row, row, row, row, rara,

And do them o'er by land,—at sea,

As Rodney did Langara.[201]

Young Thompson and his lads so lightOf foot, with hearts of steel, O,His country's cause shall nobly fight,And make her foes to feel, O,For should the frog-fed sons of Gaul,Come capering à la Francois,"My lads," said he, "we'll teach them allThe light-bob country dance, A."Fal lal, &c.

Young Thompson and his lads so light

Of foot, with hearts of steel, O,

His country's cause shall nobly fight,

And make her foes to feel, O,

For should the frog-fed sons of Gaul,

Come capering à la Francois,

"My lads," said he, "we'll teach them all

The light-bob country dance, A."

Fal lal, &c.

Our leaders all so brave and bold,Shou'd I in verse recite, A,A baggage waggon wou'd not holdThe songs that I cou'd write, A:Their deeds so great, their words so mild,O take our worst commander,And to him Cæsar was a child,And so was Alexander.Fal lal, &c.

Our leaders all so brave and bold,

Shou'd I in verse recite, A,

A baggage waggon wou'd not hold

The songs that I cou'd write, A:

Their deeds so great, their words so mild,

O take our worst commander,

And to him Cæsar was a child,

And so was Alexander.

Fal lal, &c.

Such men as these we'll follow thro'The world, and brave all danger;Each volunteer is firm and true,His heart's to fear a stranger;Good folks farewell, God bless the king,With angels centry o'er him;Now, hark! to Winchester, we'll sing,And push about the jorum.Fal lal lal la ral.

Such men as these we'll follow thro'

The world, and brave all danger;

Each volunteer is firm and true,

His heart's to fear a stranger;

Good folks farewell, God bless the king,

With angels centry o'er him;

Now, hark! to Winchester, we'll sing,

And push about the jorum.

Fal lal lal la ral.

Assung at Richmond, Yorkshire, on the eve of the New-Year, by the Corporation Pinder.

To-night it is the New-year's night, to morrow is the day,And we are come for our right, and for our ray,[203]As we used to do in old king Henry's day.Sing, fellows, sing, Hagman-heigh.If you go to the bacon-flick, cut me a good bit;Cut, cut and low, beware of your maw;Cut, cut and round, beware of your thumb,That me and my merry men may have some.Sing, fellows, sing, Hagman-heigh.If you go to the black-ark, bring me X mark;Ten mark, ten pound, throw it down upon the ground,That me and my merry men may have some.Sing, fellows, sing, Hagman-heigh.

To-night it is the New-year's night, to morrow is the day,And we are come for our right, and for our ray,[203]As we used to do in old king Henry's day.Sing, fellows, sing, Hagman-heigh.

To-night it is the New-year's night, to morrow is the day,

And we are come for our right, and for our ray,[203]

As we used to do in old king Henry's day.

Sing, fellows, sing, Hagman-heigh.

If you go to the bacon-flick, cut me a good bit;Cut, cut and low, beware of your maw;Cut, cut and round, beware of your thumb,That me and my merry men may have some.Sing, fellows, sing, Hagman-heigh.

If you go to the bacon-flick, cut me a good bit;

Cut, cut and low, beware of your maw;

Cut, cut and round, beware of your thumb,

That me and my merry men may have some.

Sing, fellows, sing, Hagman-heigh.

If you go to the black-ark, bring me X mark;Ten mark, ten pound, throw it down upon the ground,That me and my merry men may have some.Sing, fellows, sing, Hagman-heigh.

If you go to the black-ark, bring me X mark;

Ten mark, ten pound, throw it down upon the ground,

That me and my merry men may have some.

Sing, fellows, sing, Hagman-heigh.

YE loit'ring minnits faster flee,Ye're all ower slaw behawf for me,That wait impatient for the moornin';To-moorn's the lang, lang wish'd for fair,Ah'll try te shine the fooremust there,Mysen i' finest cleeas adoornin',Te grace the day.Ah'll put mah best white stockings on,An' pair o' new cawf-leather shoon,My cleean-wesh'd goon o' printed cotton;Aboot my neck a muslin shawl,A new silk hankercher ower all,Wi' sike a careless air ah'll put on,Ah'll shine that day.My partner Ned, ah knaw, thinks he,"He'll mak' his sen secure o' me,"He's ofens sed he'd treeat me rarely;Bud ah sal think ov other fun,Ah'll aim for sum rich farmer's son,An' cheeat our simple Neddy fairly,Sea sly that day.Why mud ah nut succeed as weel,An' get a man full oot genteel,As awd John Darby's dowghter Nelly;Ah think mysen as good as she,She can't mak' cheese or spin like me,That's mare 'an beauty, let me tell ye,On onny day.Then hey! for spoorts an' puppy shows,An' temptin' spice-stalls, rang'd i' rows,An' danglin' dolls, by t' necks all hangin',An' thoosand other pratty seeghts,An' lasses, trail'd alang the streets,Wi' lads, te t' yal-house gangin',Te drink that day.Let's leeak at t' winder,—ah can see 't,It seeams as tho' 'twas growin' leeght,The cloods wi' early rays adoornin',Ye loit'ring minnits faster flee,Ye're all ower slaw' behawf for me'At wait impatient for the moornin',O' sike a day.

YE loit'ring minnits faster flee,

Ye're all ower slaw behawf for me,

That wait impatient for the moornin';

To-moorn's the lang, lang wish'd for fair,

Ah'll try te shine the fooremust there,

Mysen i' finest cleeas adoornin',

Te grace the day.

Ah'll put mah best white stockings on,An' pair o' new cawf-leather shoon,My cleean-wesh'd goon o' printed cotton;Aboot my neck a muslin shawl,A new silk hankercher ower all,Wi' sike a careless air ah'll put on,Ah'll shine that day.

Ah'll put mah best white stockings on,

An' pair o' new cawf-leather shoon,

My cleean-wesh'd goon o' printed cotton;

Aboot my neck a muslin shawl,

A new silk hankercher ower all,

Wi' sike a careless air ah'll put on,

Ah'll shine that day.

My partner Ned, ah knaw, thinks he,"He'll mak' his sen secure o' me,"He's ofens sed he'd treeat me rarely;Bud ah sal think ov other fun,Ah'll aim for sum rich farmer's son,An' cheeat our simple Neddy fairly,Sea sly that day.

My partner Ned, ah knaw, thinks he,

"He'll mak' his sen secure o' me,"

He's ofens sed he'd treeat me rarely;

Bud ah sal think ov other fun,

Ah'll aim for sum rich farmer's son,

An' cheeat our simple Neddy fairly,

Sea sly that day.

Why mud ah nut succeed as weel,An' get a man full oot genteel,As awd John Darby's dowghter Nelly;Ah think mysen as good as she,She can't mak' cheese or spin like me,That's mare 'an beauty, let me tell ye,On onny day.

Why mud ah nut succeed as weel,

An' get a man full oot genteel,

As awd John Darby's dowghter Nelly;

Ah think mysen as good as she,

She can't mak' cheese or spin like me,

That's mare 'an beauty, let me tell ye,

On onny day.

Then hey! for spoorts an' puppy shows,An' temptin' spice-stalls, rang'd i' rows,An' danglin' dolls, by t' necks all hangin',An' thoosand other pratty seeghts,An' lasses, trail'd alang the streets,Wi' lads, te t' yal-house gangin',Te drink that day.

Then hey! for spoorts an' puppy shows,

An' temptin' spice-stalls, rang'd i' rows,

An' danglin' dolls, by t' necks all hangin',

An' thoosand other pratty seeghts,

An' lasses, trail'd alang the streets,

Wi' lads, te t' yal-house gangin',

Te drink that day.

Let's leeak at t' winder,—ah can see 't,It seeams as tho' 'twas growin' leeght,The cloods wi' early rays adoornin',Ye loit'ring minnits faster flee,Ye're all ower slaw' behawf for me'At wait impatient for the moornin',O' sike a day.

Let's leeak at t' winder,—ah can see 't,

It seeams as tho' 'twas growin' leeght,

The cloods wi' early rays adoornin',

Ye loit'ring minnits faster flee,

Ye're all ower slaw' behawf for me

'At wait impatient for the moornin',

O' sike a day.

WHEN I left father and mother, sister and brother,They all cried you'll surely be undone;For resolved was I my fortune to try,And just take a trip to London—Cry'd my father, "When there, dont curse and swearAs the Londoners do if they teaze ye,But your passion keep down as well as you can,And say—Jemmy Johnson squeeze me.""Lord, father, do you take me for a fool,That was in Yorkshire born and bred, man;I'm not to be done by the London chaps,As long as I've eyes in my head, man;And should they think for to go to contriveWith their cunning and tricks to tease me,I, as well as they, know how many beans make fiveIf I dont then—Jemmy Johnson squeeze me."I went to the play, I went to the park, saw the king,To see all the grand sights I were willing,But when I came at night to count o'er my brass,Egad I found I'd took two bad shillings."If the Yorkshire lads were to know it," says I,"Oh dear how they would teaze me."But some kind friend shall have them again,If they dont, why—Jemmy Johnson squeeze me.A fine lady came up, half drunk in the street,Thinking for me to nicely trepan, sir;For you see I being drest in my best,She called me a handsome young man, sir;"And sir, if along with me you'll go," says she,"I think as how I should so please ye."So I went—and I gave her the two bad shillings,If I didn't—Jemmy Johnson squeeze me.Then a stranger came up, says he, "My dear friend,I'm glad in London to meet you;Do you know me?" says he—says I, "Very well,Come to the public house and I'll treat you."So I called for the liquor—got half drunk,Where the chap he thought to ease me,But I walked me away, left him the reckoning to pay,If I didn't—Jemmy Johnson squeeze me.Then another chap called me on the other side,Says he, "Look, I've found a gold ring, sir,If you'll ten shillings give me, yours it shall be.""Oh!" says I, "'tis a grand looking thing, sir,But I tell you what, my sweet London chap,Dont think of my money to ease me,For a Yorkshire lad knows brass from gold,If he don't—then Jemmy Johnson squeeze me."I was tired of their tricks, says I, "I'll go home,While all's right, tight, and comely;For a rolling stone gathers no moss,And home is home if it's ever so homely."But I made 'em remember 'for I left town,They thought how it did please me,That the Yorkshire lad was not to be had,If he was—Jemmy Johnson squeeze me.

WHEN I left father and mother, sister and brother,

They all cried you'll surely be undone;

For resolved was I my fortune to try,

And just take a trip to London—

Cry'd my father, "When there, dont curse and swear

As the Londoners do if they teaze ye,

But your passion keep down as well as you can,

And say—Jemmy Johnson squeeze me."

"Lord, father, do you take me for a fool,That was in Yorkshire born and bred, man;I'm not to be done by the London chaps,As long as I've eyes in my head, man;And should they think for to go to contriveWith their cunning and tricks to tease me,I, as well as they, know how many beans make fiveIf I dont then—Jemmy Johnson squeeze me."

"Lord, father, do you take me for a fool,

That was in Yorkshire born and bred, man;

I'm not to be done by the London chaps,

As long as I've eyes in my head, man;

And should they think for to go to contrive

With their cunning and tricks to tease me,

I, as well as they, know how many beans make five

If I dont then—Jemmy Johnson squeeze me."

I went to the play, I went to the park, saw the king,To see all the grand sights I were willing,But when I came at night to count o'er my brass,Egad I found I'd took two bad shillings."If the Yorkshire lads were to know it," says I,"Oh dear how they would teaze me."But some kind friend shall have them again,If they dont, why—Jemmy Johnson squeeze me.

I went to the play, I went to the park, saw the king,

To see all the grand sights I were willing,

But when I came at night to count o'er my brass,

Egad I found I'd took two bad shillings.

"If the Yorkshire lads were to know it," says I,

"Oh dear how they would teaze me."

But some kind friend shall have them again,

If they dont, why—Jemmy Johnson squeeze me.

A fine lady came up, half drunk in the street,Thinking for me to nicely trepan, sir;For you see I being drest in my best,She called me a handsome young man, sir;"And sir, if along with me you'll go," says she,"I think as how I should so please ye."So I went—and I gave her the two bad shillings,If I didn't—Jemmy Johnson squeeze me.

A fine lady came up, half drunk in the street,

Thinking for me to nicely trepan, sir;

For you see I being drest in my best,

She called me a handsome young man, sir;

"And sir, if along with me you'll go," says she,

"I think as how I should so please ye."

So I went—and I gave her the two bad shillings,

If I didn't—Jemmy Johnson squeeze me.

Then a stranger came up, says he, "My dear friend,I'm glad in London to meet you;Do you know me?" says he—says I, "Very well,Come to the public house and I'll treat you."So I called for the liquor—got half drunk,Where the chap he thought to ease me,But I walked me away, left him the reckoning to pay,If I didn't—Jemmy Johnson squeeze me.

Then a stranger came up, says he, "My dear friend,

I'm glad in London to meet you;

Do you know me?" says he—says I, "Very well,

Come to the public house and I'll treat you."

So I called for the liquor—got half drunk,

Where the chap he thought to ease me,

But I walked me away, left him the reckoning to pay,

If I didn't—Jemmy Johnson squeeze me.

Then another chap called me on the other side,Says he, "Look, I've found a gold ring, sir,If you'll ten shillings give me, yours it shall be.""Oh!" says I, "'tis a grand looking thing, sir,But I tell you what, my sweet London chap,Dont think of my money to ease me,For a Yorkshire lad knows brass from gold,If he don't—then Jemmy Johnson squeeze me."

Then another chap called me on the other side,

Says he, "Look, I've found a gold ring, sir,

If you'll ten shillings give me, yours it shall be."

"Oh!" says I, "'tis a grand looking thing, sir,

But I tell you what, my sweet London chap,

Dont think of my money to ease me,

For a Yorkshire lad knows brass from gold,

If he don't—then Jemmy Johnson squeeze me."

I was tired of their tricks, says I, "I'll go home,While all's right, tight, and comely;For a rolling stone gathers no moss,And home is home if it's ever so homely."But I made 'em remember 'for I left town,They thought how it did please me,That the Yorkshire lad was not to be had,If he was—Jemmy Johnson squeeze me.

I was tired of their tricks, says I, "I'll go home,

While all's right, tight, and comely;

For a rolling stone gathers no moss,

And home is home if it's ever so homely."

But I made 'em remember 'for I left town,

They thought how it did please me,

That the Yorkshire lad was not to be had,

If he was—Jemmy Johnson squeeze me.

Beinga relation of a widow in Yorkshire, who, having buried her husband, and left seven small children, was reduced to great poverty, and turned out of house and home; then going to her husband's brother, being a rich man, in hopes of finding relief, but instead thereof he threatened them with cruelty. With an account of a lady's love at the greatest time of her distress.

To the tune of "In Summer Time."A loving couple in Yorkshire,They having seven children small,When poverty was so severe,They had for them no food at all.As I the naked truth may speak,Their father was in grief and woe,Three years he lay both sick and weak,This was enough to bring them low.They sold their cattle, corn, and hay,With other goods they parted free,Till all they had was made away,In this their sad extremity.After the term of three long years,Which he thus languishing did lye,Upon his bed, with brinish tears,He said, "Farewell, here now I dye."A cruel landlord the next day,Turn'd her and children out of door,Where in a field all night they lay;This griev'd the widow's heart full sore.Poor soul, she was in sad distress.Full seven children at her feet,With hunger, cold and comfortless,And not one bit of bread to eat.Her children cry'd to her alone;"O, give us food, mother," they said;'Twould have broke a heart of stone,To hear the piteous moan they made.With weeping tears she did reply,"My heart is overwhelm'd with grief;To your rich uncle we will hye,And see if he will yield relief."He told your father thus in love,Before this world he bid adieu,That he in tenderness would proveA brother and a father too."With cheerfulness they did repair,Unto their uncle's house that night,And they no sooner were come there,But all their hopes were blasted quite.As soon as he did them behold,He said to her, "What make you here?Begone, or else the whipping post,Shall surely happen to your share."He threatened her with this abuse,Likewise with greater villany,He vow'd his dog he would let loose,If that she did his patience try.In wrath he spurn'd them from his door,Saying they should not there abide;Her children they were frighten'd sore,She likewise wrung her hands and cry'd."O here we will not tarry long,Although we are in deep distress;Dear brother, pray now do not wrongThe widow and the fatherless."Tears from their eyes in showers did flow,For there they see they might not stay;Their hearts were fill'd with grief and woe,As from his house they took their way.The mother was with grief opprest,The children in a woful plight;"We have no home nor place of rest,Where shall we lay our heads this night?"As she did wander on the way,Alas! her very heart did bleed;"Good Lord, raise me some friend, I pray,To help us in this time of need."Her prayer was heard to heaven high,For she no sooner this had said,But a young lady riding by,Did hear the piteous moan she made.And call'd her to her coach with speed,Giving her ten good guineas there,In order for her present need,And bid her to her house repair."A farm of twenty pounds a year,I do declare I have in store,And I will give thee title clear,To you and yours for evermore."The lady bid her cease to mourn,"For ever happy may you be;"Ten thousand thanks she did returnFor this her generosity.No tongue is able to expressHow joy and comforts did increase,For now the farm they do possess,And live in plenty, joy, and peace.This brother of malicious spite,Who would not pity her poor case,All that he had was blasted quiteWithin a very little space.God's wrath and vengeance here we see,Was just for his sad cruel pride;He was reduc'd to poverty,Likewise upon a dunghill dy'd.For having then no home nor friend.That would this cruel wretch receive,He made a miserable end,When he, alas! this life did leave.Rich men, relieve the poor, I pray,Who does to you for succour cry,Lest you be brought as low as they,By making God your enemy.

To the tune of "In Summer Time."

A loving couple in Yorkshire,They having seven children small,When poverty was so severe,They had for them no food at all.

A loving couple in Yorkshire,

They having seven children small,

When poverty was so severe,

They had for them no food at all.

As I the naked truth may speak,Their father was in grief and woe,Three years he lay both sick and weak,This was enough to bring them low.

As I the naked truth may speak,

Their father was in grief and woe,

Three years he lay both sick and weak,

This was enough to bring them low.

They sold their cattle, corn, and hay,With other goods they parted free,Till all they had was made away,In this their sad extremity.

They sold their cattle, corn, and hay,

With other goods they parted free,

Till all they had was made away,

In this their sad extremity.

After the term of three long years,Which he thus languishing did lye,Upon his bed, with brinish tears,He said, "Farewell, here now I dye."

After the term of three long years,

Which he thus languishing did lye,

Upon his bed, with brinish tears,

He said, "Farewell, here now I dye."

A cruel landlord the next day,Turn'd her and children out of door,Where in a field all night they lay;This griev'd the widow's heart full sore.

A cruel landlord the next day,

Turn'd her and children out of door,

Where in a field all night they lay;

This griev'd the widow's heart full sore.

Poor soul, she was in sad distress.Full seven children at her feet,With hunger, cold and comfortless,And not one bit of bread to eat.

Poor soul, she was in sad distress.

Full seven children at her feet,

With hunger, cold and comfortless,

And not one bit of bread to eat.

Her children cry'd to her alone;"O, give us food, mother," they said;'Twould have broke a heart of stone,To hear the piteous moan they made.

Her children cry'd to her alone;

"O, give us food, mother," they said;

'Twould have broke a heart of stone,

To hear the piteous moan they made.

With weeping tears she did reply,"My heart is overwhelm'd with grief;To your rich uncle we will hye,And see if he will yield relief.

With weeping tears she did reply,

"My heart is overwhelm'd with grief;

To your rich uncle we will hye,

And see if he will yield relief.

"He told your father thus in love,Before this world he bid adieu,That he in tenderness would proveA brother and a father too."

"He told your father thus in love,

Before this world he bid adieu,

That he in tenderness would prove

A brother and a father too."

With cheerfulness they did repair,Unto their uncle's house that night,And they no sooner were come there,But all their hopes were blasted quite.

With cheerfulness they did repair,

Unto their uncle's house that night,

And they no sooner were come there,

But all their hopes were blasted quite.

As soon as he did them behold,He said to her, "What make you here?Begone, or else the whipping post,Shall surely happen to your share."

As soon as he did them behold,

He said to her, "What make you here?

Begone, or else the whipping post,

Shall surely happen to your share."

He threatened her with this abuse,Likewise with greater villany,He vow'd his dog he would let loose,If that she did his patience try.

He threatened her with this abuse,

Likewise with greater villany,

He vow'd his dog he would let loose,

If that she did his patience try.

In wrath he spurn'd them from his door,Saying they should not there abide;Her children they were frighten'd sore,She likewise wrung her hands and cry'd.

In wrath he spurn'd them from his door,

Saying they should not there abide;

Her children they were frighten'd sore,

She likewise wrung her hands and cry'd.

"O here we will not tarry long,Although we are in deep distress;Dear brother, pray now do not wrongThe widow and the fatherless."

"O here we will not tarry long,

Although we are in deep distress;

Dear brother, pray now do not wrong

The widow and the fatherless."

Tears from their eyes in showers did flow,For there they see they might not stay;Their hearts were fill'd with grief and woe,As from his house they took their way.

Tears from their eyes in showers did flow,

For there they see they might not stay;

Their hearts were fill'd with grief and woe,

As from his house they took their way.

The mother was with grief opprest,The children in a woful plight;"We have no home nor place of rest,Where shall we lay our heads this night?"

The mother was with grief opprest,

The children in a woful plight;

"We have no home nor place of rest,

Where shall we lay our heads this night?"

As she did wander on the way,Alas! her very heart did bleed;"Good Lord, raise me some friend, I pray,To help us in this time of need."

As she did wander on the way,

Alas! her very heart did bleed;

"Good Lord, raise me some friend, I pray,

To help us in this time of need."

Her prayer was heard to heaven high,For she no sooner this had said,But a young lady riding by,Did hear the piteous moan she made.

Her prayer was heard to heaven high,

For she no sooner this had said,

But a young lady riding by,

Did hear the piteous moan she made.

And call'd her to her coach with speed,Giving her ten good guineas there,In order for her present need,And bid her to her house repair.

And call'd her to her coach with speed,

Giving her ten good guineas there,

In order for her present need,

And bid her to her house repair.

"A farm of twenty pounds a year,I do declare I have in store,And I will give thee title clear,To you and yours for evermore."

"A farm of twenty pounds a year,

I do declare I have in store,

And I will give thee title clear,

To you and yours for evermore."

The lady bid her cease to mourn,"For ever happy may you be;"Ten thousand thanks she did returnFor this her generosity.

The lady bid her cease to mourn,

"For ever happy may you be;"

Ten thousand thanks she did return

For this her generosity.

No tongue is able to expressHow joy and comforts did increase,For now the farm they do possess,And live in plenty, joy, and peace.

No tongue is able to express

How joy and comforts did increase,

For now the farm they do possess,

And live in plenty, joy, and peace.

This brother of malicious spite,Who would not pity her poor case,All that he had was blasted quiteWithin a very little space.

This brother of malicious spite,

Who would not pity her poor case,

All that he had was blasted quite

Within a very little space.

God's wrath and vengeance here we see,Was just for his sad cruel pride;He was reduc'd to poverty,Likewise upon a dunghill dy'd.

God's wrath and vengeance here we see,

Was just for his sad cruel pride;

He was reduc'd to poverty,

Likewise upon a dunghill dy'd.

For having then no home nor friend.That would this cruel wretch receive,He made a miserable end,When he, alas! this life did leave.

For having then no home nor friend.

That would this cruel wretch receive,

He made a miserable end,

When he, alas! this life did leave.

Rich men, relieve the poor, I pray,Who does to you for succour cry,Lest you be brought as low as they,By making God your enemy.

Rich men, relieve the poor, I pray,

Who does to you for succour cry,

Lest you be brought as low as they,

By making God your enemy.

By Mrs. George Dawson.

THEY talk of dales and hills in Wales,As the loveliest in our isle;But the Yorkshire dells and rocky fells,Where the bright sun beams on the sparkling streams,Are all forgot the while.You may roam for hours 'mid sweet spring flowers,With a gurgling "beck" beneath,While the rustling breeze just parts the trees,And reveals the sweep of the wild woods deep,Shut in the darkling heath.You may hear the note of the blackbird float,From the top of each tall ash tree,When he pours his song each evening long;For in "true love" tales such romantic dales,Must needs abundant be.The dalesmen say that their light archwayIs due to an Egton[206]man,Whose love was tried by a whelming tide;I heard the tale in its native vale,And thus the legend ran:—"Why lingers my lov'd one? Oh! why does he roamOn the last winter's evening that hails him at home?He promised to see me once more ere he went,But the long rays of gloaming all lonely I've spent:The stones at the fording no longer I see;Ah! the darkness of night has concealed them from me."The maiden of Glaisdale sat lonely at eve,And the cold stormy night saw her hopelessly grieve;But when she looked forth from her casement at morn,The maiden of Glaisdale was truly forlorn!For the stones were engulphed where she looked for them lastBy the deep swollen Esk, that rolled rapidly past;And vainly she strove with her tear-bedimmed eye,The pathway she gazed on last night to descry.Her lover had come to the brink of the tide,And to stem its swift current repeatedly tried;But the rough whirling eddy still swept him ashore,And relentlessly bade him attempt it no more.Exhausted he climbed the steep side of the brae,And looked up the dale ere he turned him away;Ah! from her far window a light flickered dim,And he knew she was faithfully watching for him."I go to seek my fortune, love,In a far, far distant land;And without thy parting blessing, love,I am forced to quit the strand."But over Arncliffe's brow, my love,I see thy twinkling light;And when deeper waters part us, love,'Twill be my beacon bright."If fortune ever favour me,St. Hilda! hear my vow!No lover again in my native plain,Shall be thwarted as I am now."One day I'll come to claim my bride,As a worthy and wealthy man!And my well earned gold shall raise a bridgeAcross this torrent's span."The rover came back from a far distant land,And he claimed of the maiden her long-promised hand;But he built, ere he won her, the bridge of his vow,And the lovers of Egton pass over it now.

THEY talk of dales and hills in Wales,As the loveliest in our isle;But the Yorkshire dells and rocky fells,Where the bright sun beams on the sparkling streams,Are all forgot the while.

THEY talk of dales and hills in Wales,

As the loveliest in our isle;

But the Yorkshire dells and rocky fells,

Where the bright sun beams on the sparkling streams,

Are all forgot the while.

You may roam for hours 'mid sweet spring flowers,With a gurgling "beck" beneath,While the rustling breeze just parts the trees,And reveals the sweep of the wild woods deep,Shut in the darkling heath.

You may roam for hours 'mid sweet spring flowers,

With a gurgling "beck" beneath,

While the rustling breeze just parts the trees,

And reveals the sweep of the wild woods deep,

Shut in the darkling heath.

You may hear the note of the blackbird float,From the top of each tall ash tree,When he pours his song each evening long;For in "true love" tales such romantic dales,Must needs abundant be.

You may hear the note of the blackbird float,

From the top of each tall ash tree,

When he pours his song each evening long;

For in "true love" tales such romantic dales,

Must needs abundant be.

The dalesmen say that their light archwayIs due to an Egton[206]man,Whose love was tried by a whelming tide;I heard the tale in its native vale,And thus the legend ran:—

The dalesmen say that their light archway

Is due to an Egton[206]man,

Whose love was tried by a whelming tide;

I heard the tale in its native vale,

And thus the legend ran:—

"Why lingers my lov'd one? Oh! why does he roamOn the last winter's evening that hails him at home?He promised to see me once more ere he went,But the long rays of gloaming all lonely I've spent:The stones at the fording no longer I see;Ah! the darkness of night has concealed them from me."

"Why lingers my lov'd one? Oh! why does he roam

On the last winter's evening that hails him at home?

He promised to see me once more ere he went,

But the long rays of gloaming all lonely I've spent:

The stones at the fording no longer I see;

Ah! the darkness of night has concealed them from me."

The maiden of Glaisdale sat lonely at eve,And the cold stormy night saw her hopelessly grieve;But when she looked forth from her casement at morn,The maiden of Glaisdale was truly forlorn!For the stones were engulphed where she looked for them lastBy the deep swollen Esk, that rolled rapidly past;And vainly she strove with her tear-bedimmed eye,The pathway she gazed on last night to descry.

The maiden of Glaisdale sat lonely at eve,

And the cold stormy night saw her hopelessly grieve;

But when she looked forth from her casement at morn,

The maiden of Glaisdale was truly forlorn!

For the stones were engulphed where she looked for them last

By the deep swollen Esk, that rolled rapidly past;

And vainly she strove with her tear-bedimmed eye,

The pathway she gazed on last night to descry.

Her lover had come to the brink of the tide,And to stem its swift current repeatedly tried;But the rough whirling eddy still swept him ashore,And relentlessly bade him attempt it no more.Exhausted he climbed the steep side of the brae,And looked up the dale ere he turned him away;Ah! from her far window a light flickered dim,And he knew she was faithfully watching for him.

Her lover had come to the brink of the tide,

And to stem its swift current repeatedly tried;

But the rough whirling eddy still swept him ashore,

And relentlessly bade him attempt it no more.

Exhausted he climbed the steep side of the brae,

And looked up the dale ere he turned him away;

Ah! from her far window a light flickered dim,

And he knew she was faithfully watching for him.

"I go to seek my fortune, love,In a far, far distant land;And without thy parting blessing, love,I am forced to quit the strand.

"I go to seek my fortune, love,

In a far, far distant land;

And without thy parting blessing, love,

I am forced to quit the strand.

"But over Arncliffe's brow, my love,I see thy twinkling light;And when deeper waters part us, love,'Twill be my beacon bright.

"But over Arncliffe's brow, my love,

I see thy twinkling light;

And when deeper waters part us, love,

'Twill be my beacon bright.

"If fortune ever favour me,St. Hilda! hear my vow!No lover again in my native plain,Shall be thwarted as I am now.

"If fortune ever favour me,

St. Hilda! hear my vow!

No lover again in my native plain,

Shall be thwarted as I am now.

"One day I'll come to claim my bride,As a worthy and wealthy man!And my well earned gold shall raise a bridgeAcross this torrent's span."

"One day I'll come to claim my bride,

As a worthy and wealthy man!

And my well earned gold shall raise a bridge

Across this torrent's span."

The rover came back from a far distant land,And he claimed of the maiden her long-promised hand;But he built, ere he won her, the bridge of his vow,And the lovers of Egton pass over it now.

The rover came back from a far distant land,

And he claimed of the maiden her long-promised hand;

But he built, ere he won her, the bridge of his vow,

And the lovers of Egton pass over it now.

AS autumn pour'd her teern o' good,And woe had ceased to wail,Ah wander'd forth hard by a woode,Upon the banks o' Swale.And there ah spied a lovely nymphYan that neean could but hail,Ah sed, "Sweet lass, come take e tripAlang the banks o' Swale."Wi' looks as sweet as angels wear,She soon was in the vale,And ah was walking by my fairUpon the banks o' Swale.But ah sall neear forget that night,Whale life or memory fail,The hours they pass'd wi' syke delight,Upon the banks o' Swale.They swifter flew than did the stream,That murmur'd en the dale,For mah enjoyment was extremeUpon the banks o' Swale.Ah lov'd that lass as meh life,Ah felt to wish her weal,Ah ask'd her to become my wifeUpon the banks o' Swale.Wi' looks bespeaking mind intentOn what ah ardent tell,E' vain ah woo'd her to consentUpon the banks o' Swale.Ah kiss'd, ah press'd her to gi wayBut all of no availe,She had a wooer far awayFra the sweet banks o' Swale.A drinking ranting wretch wes hee,As ever was out o' hell,She took his hand and spurned meFar fra the banks o' Swale.But ah! when years had roll'd awayAh met a form full frail,She recognised me that dayAs fra the banks o' Swale.Said ah full low, "Can this be she,This thing of woe and wail,That ah yance kiss'd delightfullyUpon the banks o' Swale?"O, heavens it was the very oneAh met e' that sweet vale,But ah the evary charm was gone,Ah saw ont' banks o' Swale.Wi' sorrow stamp'd on her browShe did her mind unveil,She told me all she had pass'd thro'Since on the banks o' Swale.But O her history how sad,To sad for me to tell,T'wad mak e' heart o' stane to bleed,Ah mourn ye banks o' Swale.Then ye nymphs that mak sea freeWi' laddies that love ale,Ah think of her that went wi' meUpon the banks o' Swale.And spurn syke wooers that wad wooYe to become their wife,For knaw 'e this, if ye doYe 'd ruined be for life.[208]

AS autumn pour'd her teern o' good,And woe had ceased to wail,Ah wander'd forth hard by a woode,Upon the banks o' Swale.

AS autumn pour'd her teern o' good,

And woe had ceased to wail,

Ah wander'd forth hard by a woode,

Upon the banks o' Swale.

And there ah spied a lovely nymphYan that neean could but hail,Ah sed, "Sweet lass, come take e tripAlang the banks o' Swale."

And there ah spied a lovely nymph

Yan that neean could but hail,

Ah sed, "Sweet lass, come take e trip

Alang the banks o' Swale."

Wi' looks as sweet as angels wear,She soon was in the vale,And ah was walking by my fairUpon the banks o' Swale.

Wi' looks as sweet as angels wear,

She soon was in the vale,

And ah was walking by my fair

Upon the banks o' Swale.

But ah sall neear forget that night,Whale life or memory fail,The hours they pass'd wi' syke delight,Upon the banks o' Swale.

But ah sall neear forget that night,

Whale life or memory fail,

The hours they pass'd wi' syke delight,

Upon the banks o' Swale.

They swifter flew than did the stream,That murmur'd en the dale,For mah enjoyment was extremeUpon the banks o' Swale.

They swifter flew than did the stream,

That murmur'd en the dale,

For mah enjoyment was extreme

Upon the banks o' Swale.

Ah lov'd that lass as meh life,Ah felt to wish her weal,Ah ask'd her to become my wifeUpon the banks o' Swale.

Ah lov'd that lass as meh life,

Ah felt to wish her weal,

Ah ask'd her to become my wife

Upon the banks o' Swale.

Wi' looks bespeaking mind intentOn what ah ardent tell,E' vain ah woo'd her to consentUpon the banks o' Swale.

Wi' looks bespeaking mind intent

On what ah ardent tell,

E' vain ah woo'd her to consent

Upon the banks o' Swale.

Ah kiss'd, ah press'd her to gi wayBut all of no availe,She had a wooer far awayFra the sweet banks o' Swale.

Ah kiss'd, ah press'd her to gi way

But all of no availe,

She had a wooer far away

Fra the sweet banks o' Swale.

A drinking ranting wretch wes hee,As ever was out o' hell,She took his hand and spurned meFar fra the banks o' Swale.

A drinking ranting wretch wes hee,

As ever was out o' hell,

She took his hand and spurned me

Far fra the banks o' Swale.

But ah! when years had roll'd awayAh met a form full frail,She recognised me that dayAs fra the banks o' Swale.

But ah! when years had roll'd away

Ah met a form full frail,

She recognised me that day

As fra the banks o' Swale.

Said ah full low, "Can this be she,This thing of woe and wail,That ah yance kiss'd delightfullyUpon the banks o' Swale?"

Said ah full low, "Can this be she,

This thing of woe and wail,

That ah yance kiss'd delightfully

Upon the banks o' Swale?"

O, heavens it was the very oneAh met e' that sweet vale,But ah the evary charm was gone,Ah saw ont' banks o' Swale.

O, heavens it was the very one

Ah met e' that sweet vale,

But ah the evary charm was gone,

Ah saw ont' banks o' Swale.

Wi' sorrow stamp'd on her browShe did her mind unveil,She told me all she had pass'd thro'Since on the banks o' Swale.

Wi' sorrow stamp'd on her brow

She did her mind unveil,

She told me all she had pass'd thro'

Since on the banks o' Swale.

But O her history how sad,To sad for me to tell,T'wad mak e' heart o' stane to bleed,Ah mourn ye banks o' Swale.

But O her history how sad,

To sad for me to tell,

T'wad mak e' heart o' stane to bleed,

Ah mourn ye banks o' Swale.

Then ye nymphs that mak sea freeWi' laddies that love ale,Ah think of her that went wi' meUpon the banks o' Swale.

Then ye nymphs that mak sea free

Wi' laddies that love ale,

Ah think of her that went wi' me

Upon the banks o' Swale.

And spurn syke wooers that wad wooYe to become their wife,For knaw 'e this, if ye doYe 'd ruined be for life.[208]

And spurn syke wooers that wad woo

Ye to become their wife,

For knaw 'e this, if ye do

Ye 'd ruined be for life.[208]

Thisballad, communicated by Mr. Wm. Grainge,[209]of Minskip, has never been printed, and is little known. The tradition on which it is foundedis yet related by old people in the midland parts of Yorkshire, and the incidents recited in the narrative are very nearly those related by the tongue of "hoary eld."

Listen, Yorkshire gentlemen,Unto the tale I tell,'Tis of a strange adventureThat once a lord befel,Who took his way with horse and hound,With huntsman and with horn,To chase the wily fox I ween,One autumn's merry morn.Long did they seek the cunning one,And roamed with labour vain,Through many a thorny thicket,O'er many a woody plain;No traces of sly reynard,Their closest search can find,There is no track upon the ground,No scent upon the wind.The hunters are impatient all,The huntsman swears, "In vainWe've beaten round, we've beaten square,No fox is on the plain."We might as well call off the houndsAnd come another day,Old N—k must have been hunting hereAnd driven them away.""If we had caught him in the act,"The angry lord replies,"We would have chased him home again,And made his brush our prize:"Or if he would but come to day,We'd give him such a run,As he ne'er had in all his life,O, 'twould be noble fun!"So spake the lord and huntsman,When to their great surprise,A noble fox unkenelledBefore their wondering eyes,As black as any raven,As glossy and as bright,Save that his brush—no hunter's prize,Is tipp'd with shining white.The huntsman wakes from wonder,And gives a cheering blast,The hounds reply in thunder,The hunters follow fast.Away they go a gallant band,Ye would have thought they flew;Their horses were the fleetestThat Yorkshire ever knew.O'er many a lofty fence they pass,O'er many a gate and stile,The sable one is leading themMany a dreary mile.And always full before their eyes,Nor far before the hound,But all their speed to catch himIs ever fruitless found.The hunters now are tiring,Or lagging far behind,But yet the fox is runningAs merrily as the wind.The staunchest hounds are weariedWith the fruitless chase,The angry lord and huntsmanAlone maintain the race.When at the sinking of the dayThey gain'd a river's side,Without a moment's stop or stayThe fox takes to the tide.Here stop the lord and huntsman,Their courage is no more,They dare not trust their horsesAmidst the waves of Yore.Both hound, and horse, and hunters,Are fairly tired and done,For since the game was started,Full three score miles they'd run.While light as cork on waterThe fox was floating on,You could not tell by seeing him,A furlong he had run.He swam into the middle,Then turned him round about,And by the hunters on the bankWas heard to laugh and shout."Ho! ho! ye gallant hunters!When must I come again?For never shall ye want a fox,To chase along the plain."And when your need is greatest,But call upon my name,And I will come—and you shall haveThe best of sport and game."

Listen, Yorkshire gentlemen,Unto the tale I tell,'Tis of a strange adventureThat once a lord befel,

Listen, Yorkshire gentlemen,

Unto the tale I tell,

'Tis of a strange adventure

That once a lord befel,

Who took his way with horse and hound,With huntsman and with horn,To chase the wily fox I ween,One autumn's merry morn.

Who took his way with horse and hound,

With huntsman and with horn,

To chase the wily fox I ween,

One autumn's merry morn.

Long did they seek the cunning one,And roamed with labour vain,Through many a thorny thicket,O'er many a woody plain;

Long did they seek the cunning one,

And roamed with labour vain,

Through many a thorny thicket,

O'er many a woody plain;

No traces of sly reynard,Their closest search can find,There is no track upon the ground,No scent upon the wind.

No traces of sly reynard,

Their closest search can find,

There is no track upon the ground,

No scent upon the wind.

The hunters are impatient all,The huntsman swears, "In vainWe've beaten round, we've beaten square,No fox is on the plain.

The hunters are impatient all,

The huntsman swears, "In vain

We've beaten round, we've beaten square,

No fox is on the plain.

"We might as well call off the houndsAnd come another day,Old N—k must have been hunting hereAnd driven them away."

"We might as well call off the hounds

And come another day,

Old N—k must have been hunting here

And driven them away."

"If we had caught him in the act,"The angry lord replies,"We would have chased him home again,And made his brush our prize:

"If we had caught him in the act,"

The angry lord replies,

"We would have chased him home again,

And made his brush our prize:

"Or if he would but come to day,We'd give him such a run,As he ne'er had in all his life,O, 'twould be noble fun!"

"Or if he would but come to day,

We'd give him such a run,

As he ne'er had in all his life,

O, 'twould be noble fun!"

So spake the lord and huntsman,When to their great surprise,A noble fox unkenelledBefore their wondering eyes,

So spake the lord and huntsman,

When to their great surprise,

A noble fox unkenelled

Before their wondering eyes,

As black as any raven,As glossy and as bright,Save that his brush—no hunter's prize,Is tipp'd with shining white.

As black as any raven,

As glossy and as bright,

Save that his brush—no hunter's prize,

Is tipp'd with shining white.

The huntsman wakes from wonder,And gives a cheering blast,The hounds reply in thunder,The hunters follow fast.

The huntsman wakes from wonder,

And gives a cheering blast,

The hounds reply in thunder,

The hunters follow fast.

Away they go a gallant band,Ye would have thought they flew;Their horses were the fleetestThat Yorkshire ever knew.

Away they go a gallant band,

Ye would have thought they flew;

Their horses were the fleetest

That Yorkshire ever knew.

O'er many a lofty fence they pass,O'er many a gate and stile,The sable one is leading themMany a dreary mile.

O'er many a lofty fence they pass,

O'er many a gate and stile,

The sable one is leading them

Many a dreary mile.

And always full before their eyes,Nor far before the hound,But all their speed to catch himIs ever fruitless found.

And always full before their eyes,

Nor far before the hound,

But all their speed to catch him

Is ever fruitless found.

The hunters now are tiring,Or lagging far behind,But yet the fox is runningAs merrily as the wind.

The hunters now are tiring,

Or lagging far behind,

But yet the fox is running

As merrily as the wind.

The staunchest hounds are weariedWith the fruitless chase,The angry lord and huntsmanAlone maintain the race.

The staunchest hounds are wearied

With the fruitless chase,

The angry lord and huntsman

Alone maintain the race.

When at the sinking of the dayThey gain'd a river's side,Without a moment's stop or stayThe fox takes to the tide.

When at the sinking of the day

They gain'd a river's side,

Without a moment's stop or stay

The fox takes to the tide.

Here stop the lord and huntsman,Their courage is no more,They dare not trust their horsesAmidst the waves of Yore.

Here stop the lord and huntsman,

Their courage is no more,

They dare not trust their horses

Amidst the waves of Yore.

Both hound, and horse, and hunters,Are fairly tired and done,For since the game was started,Full three score miles they'd run.

Both hound, and horse, and hunters,

Are fairly tired and done,

For since the game was started,

Full three score miles they'd run.

While light as cork on waterThe fox was floating on,You could not tell by seeing him,A furlong he had run.

While light as cork on water

The fox was floating on,

You could not tell by seeing him,

A furlong he had run.

He swam into the middle,Then turned him round about,And by the hunters on the bankWas heard to laugh and shout.

He swam into the middle,

Then turned him round about,

And by the hunters on the bank

Was heard to laugh and shout.

"Ho! ho! ye gallant hunters!When must I come again?For never shall ye want a fox,To chase along the plain.

"Ho! ho! ye gallant hunters!

When must I come again?

For never shall ye want a fox,

To chase along the plain.

"And when your need is greatest,But call upon my name,And I will come—and you shall haveThe best of sport and game."

"And when your need is greatest,

But call upon my name,

And I will come—and you shall have

The best of sport and game."

ACAPTAIN bold in Halifax, who dwelt in country quartersSeduced a maid who hang'd herself one morning in her garters;His wicked conscience smited him, he lost his stomach daily,He took to drinking ratafia, and thought upon miss Bailey.Oh miss Bailey! unfortunate miss Bailey.One night, betimes, he went to rest, for he had caught a fever,Says he, "I am a handsome man, but I'm a gay deceiver."His candle just at twelve o'clock began to burn quite palely,A ghost stepp'd up to his bed-side and said, "Behold miss Bailey!"Oh miss Bailey! unfortunate miss Bailey!"Avaunt, miss Bailey," then he cried, "your face looks white and mealy.""Dear captain Smith," the ghost replied, "you've used me ungenteely;The crowner's 'quest goes hard with me, because I've acted frailly,And Parson Biggs won't bury me, though I am dead miss Bailey."Oh miss Bailey! unfortunate miss Bailey!"Dear corpse," said he, "since you and I, accounts must once for all close,I've got a one pound note in my regimental small clothes;'Twill bribe the sexton for your grave."—The ghost then vanish'd gaily,Crying, "Bless you, wicked captain Smith, remember poor miss Bailey."Oh miss Bailey! unfortunate miss Bailey.

ACAPTAIN bold in Halifax, who dwelt in country quarters

Seduced a maid who hang'd herself one morning in her garters;

His wicked conscience smited him, he lost his stomach daily,

He took to drinking ratafia, and thought upon miss Bailey.

Oh miss Bailey! unfortunate miss Bailey.

One night, betimes, he went to rest, for he had caught a fever,Says he, "I am a handsome man, but I'm a gay deceiver."His candle just at twelve o'clock began to burn quite palely,A ghost stepp'd up to his bed-side and said, "Behold miss Bailey!"Oh miss Bailey! unfortunate miss Bailey!

One night, betimes, he went to rest, for he had caught a fever,

Says he, "I am a handsome man, but I'm a gay deceiver."

His candle just at twelve o'clock began to burn quite palely,

A ghost stepp'd up to his bed-side and said, "Behold miss Bailey!"

Oh miss Bailey! unfortunate miss Bailey!

"Avaunt, miss Bailey," then he cried, "your face looks white and mealy.""Dear captain Smith," the ghost replied, "you've used me ungenteely;The crowner's 'quest goes hard with me, because I've acted frailly,And Parson Biggs won't bury me, though I am dead miss Bailey."Oh miss Bailey! unfortunate miss Bailey!

"Avaunt, miss Bailey," then he cried, "your face looks white and mealy."

"Dear captain Smith," the ghost replied, "you've used me ungenteely;

The crowner's 'quest goes hard with me, because I've acted frailly,

And Parson Biggs won't bury me, though I am dead miss Bailey."

Oh miss Bailey! unfortunate miss Bailey!

"Dear corpse," said he, "since you and I, accounts must once for all close,I've got a one pound note in my regimental small clothes;'Twill bribe the sexton for your grave."—The ghost then vanish'd gaily,Crying, "Bless you, wicked captain Smith, remember poor miss Bailey."Oh miss Bailey! unfortunate miss Bailey.

"Dear corpse," said he, "since you and I, accounts must once for all close,

I've got a one pound note in my regimental small clothes;

'Twill bribe the sexton for your grave."—The ghost then vanish'd gaily,

Crying, "Bless you, wicked captain Smith, remember poor miss Bailey."

Oh miss Bailey! unfortunate miss Bailey.

To the Tune of "Willy."

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