The Farmer's Old Wife.

[This is a countryman's whistling song, and the only one of the kind which we remember to have heard. It is very ancient, and a great favourite. The farmer's wife has an adventure somewhat resembling the hero's in the burlesque version of Don Giovanni. The tune is Lilli Burlero, and the song is sung as follows:- the first line of each verse is given as a solo; then the tune is continued by a chorus of whistlers, who whistle that portion of the air which in Lilli Burlero would be sung to the words, Lilli Burlero bullen a la. The songster then proceeds with the tune, and sings the whole of the verse through, after which the strain is resumed and concluded by the whistlers. The effect, when accompanied by the strong whistles of a group of lusty countrymen, is very striking, and cannot be adequately conveyed by description. This song constitutes the 'traditionary verses' upon which Burns founded his Carle of Killyburn Braes.]

There was an old farmer in Sussex did dwell,

[Chorus of Whistlers.]

There was an old farmer in Sussex did dwell,

And he had a bad wife, as many knew well.

[Chorus of Whistlers.]

Then Satan came to the old man at the plough, -

'One of your family I must have now.

'It is not your eldest son that I crave,

But it is your old wife, and she I will have.'

'O, welcome! good Satan, with all my heart,

I hope you and she will never more part.'

Now Satan has got the old wife on his back,

And he lugged her along, like a pedlar's pack.

He trudged away till they came to his hall-gate,

Says he, 'Here! take in an old Sussex chap's mate!'

O! then she did kick the young imps about, -

Says one to the other, 'Let's try turn her out.'

She spied thirteen imps all dancing in chains,

She up with her pattens, and beat out their brains.

She knocked the old Satan against the wall, -

'Let's try turn her out, or she'll murder us all!'

Now he's bundled her up on his back amain,

And to her old husband he took her again.

'I have been a tormenter the whole of my life,

But I ne'er was tormented till I met with your wife.'

The Outlandish Knight

An Outlandish knight came from the North lands,

And he came a wooing to me;

He told me he'd take me unto the North lands,

And there he would marry me.

'Come, fetch me some of your father's gold,

And some of your mother's fee;

And two of the best nags out of the stable,

Where they stand thirty and three.'

She fetched him some of her father's gold,

And some of the mother's fee;

And two of the best nags out of the stable,

Where they stood thirty and three.

She mounted her on her milk-white steed,

He on the dapple grey;

They rode till they came unto the sea side,

Three hours before it was day.

'Light off, light off thy milk-white steed,

And deliver it unto me;

Six pretty maids have I drowned here,

And thou the seventh shall be.

'Pull off, pull off thy silken gown,

And deliver it unto me,

Methinks it looks too rich and too gay

To rot in the salt sea.

'Pull off, pull of thy silken stays,

And deliver them unto me;

Methinks they are too fine and gay

To rot in the salt sea.

'Pull off, pull off thy Holland smock,

And deliver it unto me;

Methinks it looks too rich and gay,

To rot in the salt sea.'

'If I must pull off my Holland smock,

Pray turn thy back unto me,

For it is not fitting that such a ruffian

A naked woman should see.'

He turned his back towards her,

And viewed the leaves so green;

She catched him round the middle so small,

And tumbled him into the stream.

He dropped high, and he dropped low,

Until he came to the side, -

'Catch hold of my hand, my pretty maiden,

And I will make you my bride.'

'Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man,

Lie there instead of me;

Six pretty maids have you drowned here,

And the seventh has drowned thee.'

She mounted on her milk-white steed,

And led the dapple grey,

She rode till she came to her own father's hall,

Three hours before it was day.

The parrot being in the window so high,

Hearing the lady, did say,

'I'm afraid that some ruffian has led you astray,

That you have tarried so long away.'

'Don't prittle nor prattle, my pretty parrot,

Nor tell no tales of me;

Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold,

Although it is made of a tree.'

The king being in the chamber so high,

And hearing the parrot, did say,

'What ails you, what ails you, my pretty parrot,

That you prattle so long before day?'

'It's no laughing matter,' the parrot did say,

'But so loudly I call unto thee;

For the cats have got into the window so high,

And I'm afraid they will have me.'

'Well turned, well turned, my pretty parrot,

Well turned, well turned for me;

Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold,

And the door of the best ivory.'

The Painful Plough

'Come, all you jolly ploughmen, of courage stout and bold,

That labour all the winter in stormy winds, and cold;

To clothe the fields with plenty, your farm-yards to renew,

To crown them with contentment, behold the painful plough!'

'Hold! ploughman,' said the gardener, 'don't count your trade with ours,

Walk through the garden, and view the early flowers;

Also the curious border and pleasant walks go view, -

There's none such peace and plenty performed by the plough!'

'Hold! gardener,' said the ploughman, 'my calling don't despise,

Each man for his living upon his trade relies;

Were it not for the ploughman, both rich and poor would rue,

For we are all dependent upon the painful plough.

'Adam in the garden was sent to keep it right,

But the length of time he stayed there, I believe it was one night;

Yet of his own labour, I call it not his due,

Soon he lost his garden, and went to hold the plough.

'For Adam was a ploughman when ploughing first begun,

The next that did succeed him was Cain, the eldest son;

Some of the generation this calling now pursue;

That bread may not be wanting, remains the painful plough.

Samson was the strongest man, and Solomon was wise,

Alexander for to conquer 'twas all his daily prise;

King David was valiant, and many thousands slew,

Yet none of these brave heroes could live without the plough!

Behold the wealthy merchant, that trades in foreign seas,

And brings home gold and treasure for those who live at ease;

With fine silks and spices, and fruits also, too,

They are brought from the Indies by virtue of the plough.

'For they must have bread, biscuit, rice pudding, flour and peas,

To feed the jolly sailors as they sail o'er the seas;

And the man that brings them will own to what is true,

He cannot sail the ocean without the painful plough!

'I hope there's none offended at me for singing this,

For it is not intended for anything amiss.

If you consider rightly, you'll find what I say is true,

For all that you can mention depends upon the plough.'

The Bold Pedlar and Robin Hood

There chanced to be a pedlar bold,

A pedlar bold he chanced to be;

He rolled his pack all on his back,

And he came tripping o'er the lee.

Down, a down, a down, a down,

Down, a down, a down.

By chance he met two troublesome blades,

Two troublesome blades they chanced to be;

The one of them was bold Robin Hood,

And the other was Little John, so free.

'Oh! pedlar, pedlar, what is in thy pack,

Come speedilie and tell to me?'

'I've several suits of the gay green silks,

And silken bowstrings two or three.'

'If you have several suits of the gay green silk,

And silken bowstrings two or three,

Then it's by my body,' cries bittle John,

'One half your pack shall belong to me.'

Oh! nay, oh! nay,' says the pedlar bold,

'Oh! nay, oh! nay, that never can be,

For there's never a man from fair Nottingham

Can take one half my pack from me.'

Then the pedlar he pulled off his pack,

And put it a little below his knee,

Saying, 'If you do move me one perch from this,

My pack and all shall gang with thee.'

Then Little John he drew his sword;

The pedlar by his pack did stand;

They fought until they both did sweat,

Till he cried, 'Pedlar, pray hold your hand!'

Then Robin Hood he was standing by,

And he did laugh most heartilie,

Saying, 'I could find a man of a smaller scale,

Could thrash the pedlar, and also thee.'

'Go, you try, master,' says Little John,

'Go, you try, master, most speedilie,

Or by my body,' says Little John,

'I am sure this night you will not know me.'

Then Robin Hood he drew his sword,

And the pedlar by his pack did stand,

They fought till the blood in streams did flow,

Till he cried, 'Pedlar, pray hold your hand!'

'Pedlar, pedlar! what is thy name?

Come speedilie and tell to me.'

'My name! my name, I ne'er will tell,

Till both your names you have told to me.'

'The one of us is bold Robin Hood,

And the other Little John, so free.'

'Now,' says the pedlar, 'it lays to my good will,

Whether my name I chuse to tell to thee.

'I am Gamble Gold of the gay green woods,

And travelled far beyond the sea;

For killing a man in my father's land,

From my country I was forced to flee.'

'If you are Gamble Gold of the gay green woods,

And travelled far beyond the sea,

You are my mother's own sister's son;

What nearer cousins then can we be?'

They sheathed their swords with friendly words,

So merrily they did agree;

They went to a tavern and there they dined,

And bottles cracked most merrilie.

The Plain-Dealing Man

A crotchet comes into my mind

Concerning a proverb of old,

Plain dealing's a jewel most rare,

And more precious than silver or gold:

And therefore with patience give ear,

And listen to what here is penned,

These verses were written on purpose

The honest man's cause to defend.

For this I will make it appear,

And prove by experience I can,

'Tis the excellen'st thing in the world

To be a plain-dealing man.

Yet some are so impudent grown,

They'll domineer, vapour, and swagger,

And say that the plain-dealing man

Was born to die a beggar:

But men that are honestly given

Do such evil actions detest,

And every one that is well-minded

Will say that plain dealing is best.

For this I will make it appear,

And prove by experience I can,

'Tis the excellen'st thing in the world

To be a plain-dealing man.

For my part I am a poor man,

And sometimes scarce muster a shilling,

Yet to live upright in the world,

Heaven knows I am wondrous willing.

Although that my clothes be threadbare,

And my calling be simple and poor,

Yet will I endeavour myself

To keep off the wolf from the door.

For this I will make it appear,

And prove by experience I can,

'Tis the excellen'st thing in the world

To be a plain-dealing man.

And now, to be brief in discourse,

In plain terms I'll tell you my mind;

My qualities you shall all know,

And to what my humour's inclined:

I hate all dissembling base knaves

And pickthanks whoever they be,

And for painted-faced drabs, and such like,

They shall never get penny of me.

For this I will make it appear,

And prove by experience I can,

'Tis the excellen'st thing in the world

To be a plain-dealing man.

Nor can I abide any tongues

That will prattle and prate against reason,

About that which doth not concern them;

Which thing is no better than treason.

Wherefore I'd wish all that do hear me

Not to meddle with matters of state,

Lest they be in question called for it,

And repent them when it is too late.

For this I will make it appear,

And prove by experience I can,

'Tis the excellen'st thing in the world

To be a plain-dealing man.

O fie upon spiteful neighbours,

Whose malicious humours are bent,

And do practise and strive every day

To wrong the poor innocent.

By means of such persons as they,

There hath many a good mother's son

Been utterly brought to decay,

Their wives and their children undone.

For this I will make it appear,

And prove by experience I can,

'Tis the excellen'st thing in the world

To be a plain-dealing man.

O fie upon forsworn knaves,

That do no conscience make

To swear and forswear themselves

At every third word they do speak:

So they may get profit and gain,

They care not what lies they do tell;

Such cursed dissemblers as they

Are worse than the devils of hell.

For this I will make it appear,

And prove by experience I can,

'Tis the excellen'st thing in the world

To be a plain-dealing man.

O fie upon greedy bribe takers,

'Tis pity they ever drew breath,

For they, like to base caterpillars,

Devour up the fruits of the earth.

They're apt to take money with both hands,

On one side and also the other,

And care not what men they undo,

Though it be their own father or brother.

Therefore I will make it appear,

And show very good reasons I can,

'Tis the excellen'st thing in the world

To be a plain-dealing man.

O fie upon cheaters and thieves,

That liveth by fraud and deceit;

The gallows do for such blades groan,

And the hangmen do for their clothes wait.

Though poverty be a disgrace,

And want is a pitiful grief,

'Tis better to go like a beggar

Than to ride in a cart like a thief.

For this I will make it appear,

And prove by experience I can,

'Tis the excellen'st thing in the world

To be a plain-dealing man.

And now let all honest men judge,

If such men as I have here named

For their wicked and impudent dealings,

Deserveth not much to be blamed.

And now here, before I conclude,

One item to the world I will give,

Which may direct some the right way,

And teach them the better to live.

For now I have made it appear,

And many men witness it can,

'Tis the excellen'st thing in the world

To be a plain-dealing man.

1. I' th' first place I'd wish you beware

What company you come in,

For those that are wicked themselves

May quickly tempt others to sin.

2. If youths be induced with wealth,

And have plenty of silver and gold,

I'd wish them keep something in store,

To comfort them when they are old.

3. I have known many young prodigals,

Which have wasted their money so fast,

That they have been driven in want,

And were forced to beg at the last.

4. I'd wish all men bear a good conscience,

And in all their actions be just;

For he's a false varlet indeed

That will not be true to his trust.

And now to conclude my new song,

And draw to a perfect conclusion,

I have told you what is in my mind,

And what is my [firm] resolution.

For this I have made it appear,

And prove by experience I can,

'Tis the excellen'st thing in the world

To be a plain-dealing man.

The Lincolnshire Poacher

When I was bound apprentice, in famous Lincolnsheer,

Full well I served my master for more than seven year,

Till I took up with poaching, as you shall quickly hear:-

Oh! 'tis my delight of a shiny night, in the season of the year.

As me and my comrades were setting of a snare,

'Twas then we seed the gamekeeper - for him we did not care,

For we can wrestle and fight, my boys, and jump o'er everywhere:-

Oh! 'tis my delight of a shiny night, in the season of the year.

As me and my comrades were setting four or five,

And taking on him up again, we caught the hare alive;

We caught the hare alive, my boys, and through the woods did steer:-

Oh! 'tis my delight of a shiny night, in the season of the year.

Bad luck to every magistrate that lives in Lincolnsheer;

Success to every poacher that wants to sell a hare;

Bad luck to every gamekeeper that will not sell his deer:-

Oh! 'tis my delight of a shiny night, in the season of the year.

Why Should We Quarrel For Riches

How pleasant a sailor's life passes,

Who roams o'er the watery main!

No treasure he ever amasses,

But cheerfully spends all his gain.

We're strangers to party and faction,

To honour and honesty true;

And would not commit a bad action

For power or profit in view.

Then why should we quarrel for riches,

Or any such glittering toys;

A light heart, and a thin pair of breeches,

Will go through the world, my brave boys!

The world is a beautiful garden,

Enriched with the blessings of life,

The toiler with plenty rewarding,

Which plenty too often breeds strife.

When terrible tempests assail us,

And mountainous billows affright,

No grandeur or wealth can avail us,

But skilful industry steers right.

Then why, &c.

The courtier's more subject to dangers,

Who rules at the helm of the state,

Than we that, to politics strangers,

Escape the snares laid for the great.

The various blessings of nature,

In various nations we try;

No mortals than us can be greater,

Who merrily live till we die.

Then why should, &c.

George Ridler's Over

The substance of the following key to this very curious song is furnished by Mr. H. Gingell, who extracts it from the Annual Report of the Gloucestershire SOciety for 1835. The annual meeting of this Society is held at Bristol in the month of August, when the members dine, and a branch meeting, which was formerly held at the Crown and Anchor in the Strand, is now annually held at the Thatched House Tavern, St. James's. George Riderr's Oven is sung at both meetings, and the late Duke of Beaufort used to lead off the glee in capital style. The words have a secret meaning, well known to the members of the Gloucestershire Society, which was founded in 1657, three years before the Restoration of Charles II. The Society consisted of Royalists, who combined together for the purpose of restoring the Stuarts. The Cavalier party was supported by all the old Roman Catholic families of the kingdom; and some of the Dissenters, who were disgusted with Cromwell, occasionally lent them a kind of passive aid.

First verse. - By 'George Ridler' is meant King Charles I. The 'oven' was the Cavalier party. The 'stwons' that 'built the oven,' and that 'came out of the Bleakney quaar,' were the immediate followers of the Marquis of Worcester, who held out long and steadfastly for the Royal cause at Raglan Castle, which was not surrendered till 1646, and was in fact the last stronghold retained for the King. 'His head did grow above his hair,' is an allusion to the crown, the head of the State, which the King wore 'above his hair.'

Second verse. - This means that the King, 'before he died,' boasted that notwithstanding his present adversity, the ancient constitution of the kingdom was so good, and its vitality so great, that it would surpass and outlive every other form of government.

Third verse. - 'Dick the treble, Jack the mean, and George the bass,' mean King, Lords, and Commons. The injunction to 'let every man sing in his own place,' is a warning to each of the three estates of the realm to preserve its proper position, and not to encroach on each other's prerogative.

Fourth verse. - 'Mine hostess's maid' is an allusion to the Queen, who was a Roman Catholic, and her maid, the Church. The singer we must suppose was one of the leaders of the party, and his 'dog' a companion, or faithful official of the Society, and the song was sung on occasions when the members met together socially; and thus, as the Roman Catholics were Royalists, the allusion to the mutual attachment between the 'maid' and 'my dog and I,' is plain and consistent.

Fifth verse. - The 'dog' had a 'trick of visiting maids when they were sick.' The meaning is, that when any of the members were in distress or desponding, or likely to give up the Royal cause in despair, the officials, or active members visited, counselled, and assisted them.

Sixth verse. - The 'dog' was 'good to catch a hen,' a 'duck,' or a 'goose.' - That is, to enlist as members of the Society any who were well affected to the Royal cause.

Seventh verse. - 'The good ale tap' is an allusion, under cover of the similarity in sound between the words ale and aisle, to the Church, of which it was dangerous at the time to be an avowed follower; and so the members were cautioned that indiscretion might lead to their discovery and 'overthrow.'

Eighth verse. - The allusion here is to those unfaithful supporters of the Royal cause, who 'welcomed' the members of the Society when it appeared to be prospering, but 'parted' from them in adversity.

Ninth verse. - An expression of the singer's wish that if he should die he may be buried with his faithful companion, as representing the principles of the Society, under the good aisles of the church.

The following text has been collated with a version published in Notes and Queries, from the 'fragments of a MS. found in the speech-house of Dean.' The tune is the same as that of the Wassailers' Song, and is printed in Popular Music. Other ditties appear to have been founded on this ancient piece. The fourth, seventh, and ninth verses are in the old ditty called My Dog and I; and the eighth verse appears in another old song. The air and words bear some resemblance to Todlen Hame.]

The stwons that built George Ridler's oven,

And thauy keam vrom the Bleakney quaar,

And George he wur a jolly old mon,

And his yead it grow'd above his yare.

One thing of George Ridler I must commend,

And that wur vor a notable thing;

He mead his brags avoore he died,

Wi' any dree brooders his zons zshould zing.

There's Dick the treble, and John the meean,

(Let every mon zing in his auwn pleace,)

And George he wur the elder brother,

And therevoor he would zing the beass.

Mine hostess's moid, (and her neaum 'twour Nell,)

A pretty wench, and I lov'd her well;

I lov'd her well, good reauzon why,

Because zshe loved my dog and I.

My dog is good to catch a hen;

A dug or goose is vood for men;

And where good company I spy,

O thether gwoes my dog and I.

My mwother told I, when I wur young,

If I did vollow the strong-beer pwoot,

That drenk would prov my awverdrow,

And meauk me wear a threadbare cwoat.

My dog has gotten zitch a trick,

To visit moids when thauy be zick;

When thauy be zick and like to die,

O thether gwoes my dog and I.

When I have dree zixpences under my thumb,

O then I be welcome wherever I come;

But when I have none, O, then I pass by, -

'Tis poverty pearts good companie.

If I should die, as it may hap,

My greauve shall be under the good yeal tap;

In voulded yarms there wool us lie,

Cheek by jowl, my dog and I.

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