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BALLADS AND SONG's
OF
LA N C A S H I RE:
















Attention Patron:
This volume is too fragile for any future repair.
Please handle with great care.
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN LIBRARY_CONSERVATION & BOOK REPAIR
;3|ALLADs & §oNgs
OF \,23 73%
--—-i-,
LAN CASHIRE
(Chieflu (Bluer than the 19th Centuru.
COLLECTED, COMPILED, AND EDITED, WITH NOTES,
By JOHN HARLAND, F.S.A.
LONDON
whitTAKER & Co. AVE MARIA LANE
1865

Printed by R. CLARK, Edinburgh.
FS:
==l
*:::s: 2” g- =º Nº- - . .
º
CONTENTS.
—000–
Preface º º
Fragment of an Ancient Ballad of a Tyrannical
Husband . &
The Old Man and his Wife
A Trafford and Byron Feud
The Bewsey Tragedy and its Legend
The Lancashire Heroes , s g
The Scottish Field, or Flodden Field º g
The Famous History or Song called Flodden Field
A Love Song, by Richard Sheale.
A Balade of Maryage º e
The Blessed Conscience .. , e
The Radcliffe Tragedy of Fair Ellen,
James I. and the Loin of Beef
Warrikin Fair - -
Brigadier Macintosh's Escape and Farewell
Farewell Manchester
Long Preston Peggy
Jemmy Dawson © &
The Preston Prisoners to the Ladies
Townley's Ghost
I I
I 3
23
27
34
4O
42
45
56
66
68
73
81
82
86
97
I O I

vi CONTENTS.
The Three Sisters * ‘tº 3
The Miller and the King's Daughter
Lancashire May Songs
Old May Song—I.
New May Song—II. .
Stretford and Northen May Song
Songs of the Mayers e
The Mayers' Call sº-
Page
foô.
I 16
i i8
120
122
128
130
131
May Eve Song
Mayers' May-Day Song
Wassail Song
The Liverpool Tragedy
Stonyhurst Buck-Hunt tº
The Unfortunate Love of a Lancashire Gentleman
Careless Content g g •
The Frog and the Crow .
Dick o' Stanley Green
Blakeley Courtship
The Lancashire Miller g e
Contentment: the Happy Workman's Song
Sir Gualter
Warrington Ale ..
Droylsden Wakes Song .
Radcliffe Otter-Hunt . * º wº
Jone o' Grinfilt's Ramble—the Original Song
Jone o' Grinfilt's Return .
Jone o' Grinfilt Junior . g • e
Jone o' Grinfilt's Ramble in Search o' th' Green Bag
Jone o' Grinfilt going to th' Rushan War
Jone o' Grinfilt's Visit to Mr. Fielden
132
135
138
152
161
173
178
18 I
185
I88
191
I95
I 99
2O I
2O6
2 I 2
22 I
223
227
228
23O
CONTENTS.
vii
The Burnley Haymakers .
The Praise of Lancashire Men
Will, the Ferryman
The Lover's Leap
Death of an Old Huntsman
Hand-loom v. Power-loom
Gorton Town g
The Hand-loom Weavers' Lament
The Middleton Overseer and the Madman
Mary Melvin of the Mersey Side
Grimshaw's Factory Fire
The Bonny Gray
Lancashire Witches
The Lancashire Bagpiper
Page
232
238
242
245
248
25 I
254
259
263
269
272
276
278
28o

PR E FA C E. . . { Vºl. “
*~.--
—000— . . .
ANDREW FLETCHER, of Saltoun, speaks of a wise person
whom he knew, “who believed that if a man were per-
mitted to make all the ballads, he need not care who
should make the laws of a nation.”—Polit. Works, 8vo, p.
266, Glasg. I 749.
THE rude poetry of song and ballad has been
in all countries the earliest record of acts and
events, the song in praise of heroes inciting
living warriors to emulate the deeds of their
ancestors. Ballads (says Tacitus) were the only
annals known among the ancient Germans. The
Scandinavian scald's or bards, in their sagas or bal-
lads, celebrated the warlike achievements of their
ancestors. Britain, Wales, and Ireland had of

X AREATA CE.
old their bards and minstrels. Even so late as
the reign of Elizabeth, Welsh harpers on some hill-
side sang to crowds of their countrymen the deeds
of their forefathers. With the refinement of man-
ners, the ballad by degrees included a wider range
of subjects, the marvellous tale, the wild adven-
ture, love's sentiment and passion, mad revenge
and stealthy murder, were amongst its favourite
themes. Then came the satirical song, the
humorous and burlesque ballad, which have re-
mained in favour with the people, especially in
rural districts, to this day. In more recent times
the older ballads, which had long ceased to be
current, have been collected by poetical antiquaries.
Ritson says that the number that have perished,
however, must be considerable. Very few exist
of an earlier date than the reign of James I., when
they were first collected in little penny books,
termed Garlands, of which many are preserved in
the Pepysian Library. Of single-sheet songs and
ballads, or broadsides, often printed with musical
notation, a large collection was made by James
Orchard Halliwell, Esq., F.R.S., etc., and presented
AREFA CE. xi
by him to Chetham's library, Manchester. Inter-
spersed with proclamations and other printed and
MS. broadsides and documents, the collection fills
32 folio volumes. The golden age of English
ballad and song was in the days of “Good Queen
Bess,” as Shakspere has fully shown in many of
his finest dramas. In the Winter's Zale he has,
in the character of the pedlar Autolycus, painted
for all time a lively portrait of the English ballad
singer and seller of his own day. But we must
not dwell on our national ballads. Our subject is
limited to those of a single northern shire; and it
is not a little remarkable that, while the other five
northern counties have printed their respective col-
lections of the older songs and ballads, so little has
been done to collect and perpetuate the fleeting,
because oral, ballads and songs of Lancashire.
We know of no collection in print, till Mr. J. O.
Halliwell added to this branch of our literature,
“ Zhe Palatine Anthology, a collection of ancient
poems and ballads relating to Lancashire and
Cheshire ; and Zhe Palatine Garland, a selection
of ballads and fragments supplementary to the
xii PREAEA CE.
Anthology”—printed in one volume quarto, for
private circulation only, in 1850 ; the impression
being strictly limited to 1 Io copies. These cir-
cumstances, and its price, placed it beyond the
reach of most ballad-loving people, and not a copy
is now procurable. Under these circumstances,
the present Editor, who had been collecting old
songs and ballads of Lancashire for some years
before the appearance of Mr. Halliwell's work, was
desirous to place in the hands of the whole reading
public interested in this branch of our literature
a collection of all the older productions of this
kind which he could find in the course of a long
search through books and manuscripts, and of
numerous inquiries in various parts of the county.
It was at first proposed to give the long ballad-
chronicles and poems from the earliest times; but
the publishers being apprehensive that their great
length and numerous obsolete words and phrases
would render them less acceptable to the general
reader, they have been omitted on the one hand;
while ballads and songs of our own day have mostly
been reserved, on the other, for a future volume.
PREFACE. <-- xiii
It is proposed to print the older poems, rhyming
chronicles, and ballads, in a volume of the Chet-
ham Society's books. The present volume, there-
fore, occupies a middle place in point of time in
the ballad literature of Lancashire. It contains
neither the oldest nor the latest songs and ballads
of the county; but may be said to range in period
from the reign of Edward IV. to that of William
IV., or from the fifteenth to the eighteenth cen-
tury, including a few of the present century. . No
exact chronological order has been, or indeed
could be, preserved; but usually the older ballads,
or those which relate to older times, are placed first.
Ranging through three centuries, the subjects of
the ballads in this volume are necessarily various,
and so are their modes of treatment. Still, amidst
great Social mutations, and the progress of edu-
cation and civilisation, there are some broad
features of English ballad literature, especially in
the subjects which most largely hold the popular
affection and regard, which in all essentials will
ever remain alike, however their outward garb
may change with the transitory tastes and fleeting
xiv. PREFA CE.
fashions of the age. The three favourite themes,
alike of the oldest ballads and the most modern
Songs, are Love, War, and Murder. In the fol-
lowing pages specimens will be found ranging
under these three great divisions; as well as of
the satirical and humorous; sporting, bacchanalian,
trade, and local songs, many of the latter in the
broad vernacular dialect of Lancashire.
If it be said that but few pieces in this volume
can lay claim to any poetic merit, the charge is at
once admitted. It is of the very nature of the
older ballad that it should be rude and rough in
diction and verse. It is rather in the rugged
strength and quaintness of its phraseology, and in
the vigour, earnestness, and life-like animation of
its action, that the charm of the more ancient
ballad consists. As to those of more modern
production, they were usually thrown off in a hurry,
in celebration of some recent occurrence; time to
smooth and polish the versification being always
wanting; and the chief consideration being a
ready market. In this respect there is a very
curious revelation of the art of modern ballad-
AREAEA CE. XV
making prefixed to the favourite dialect song of
“Jone o' Grinfilt,” page 213.
Should the present volume find favour with
the public, its Editor may be encouraged hereafter
to publish another, of the Modern Songs and
Ballads of Lancashire, towards which he has
collected a large mass of materials, both in print
and manuscript.
It only remains that he should express his
grateful acknowledgments to those authors, editors,
and publishers who have permitted him to avail
himself of their works to enrich the present col-
lection. His largest obligations and best thanks
are due to James Orchard Halliwell, Esq., F.R.S.,
F.S.A., etc., for permission to copy any song or
ballad from any of his numerous (and chiefly
privately printed) works; to Mr. John Higson, of
Droylsden, who liberally placed his MS. and
print collections at the Editor's disposal, he is
much indebted; to Miss Atherton, of Kersal Cell,
Manchester; to the editor of AVotes and Queries;
to William Beamont, Esq., and John Robson, Esq.,
M.D., both of Warrington ; to Messrs. W. & R.
xvi AA’EAEA CE.
X. Chambers, of Edinburgh and London; to T. T.
2- Wilkinson, Esq., F.A.S., of Burnley; to P. A.
Whittle, Esq., F.S.A., of Preston and Liverpool;
and to various editors, publishers, and others, he
must tender his grateful acknowledgments for the
permission, courteously and readily accorded, to
reprint such pieces as fall within the scope of this
volume. To Mr. John Hill, late of Bleasdale, he
owes acknowledgments for collecting, expressly
for this volume, various songs and ballads popular
in that rural district of the county.
Conscious of many and great imperfections in
the discharge of his duty, the Editor nevertheless
submits this volume, in full trust, to a public ever
willing to make reasonable allowances for any one
who appears to have done his best according to
the measure of his means and ability.
Sw1NToN, MANCHESTER,
May 1865.
Ballads and Songs of
Zancashire.
—000—
FRAGMENT OF AN ANCIENT BALLAD
OF A TYRANNICAL HUSBAND.
A FOLIO MS. volume in Chetham's Library, Man-
chester (No. 8oo9), is described at some length
by Mr. J. O. Halliwell, F.R.S., as “an extremely
valuable MS., chiefly consisting of early English
poetry, written in the fifteenth century.” He enume-
rates fourteen different articles or subjects in the
volume, the last of which he calls “A Ballad of a
Tyrannical Husband” (fol. 366). It was written,
he says, in the reign of Edward IV. It is in
twenty-eight quatrains or stanzas, covering five
pages of the folio volume ; but it appears to have
been left unfinished by the transcriber; for only
the “First Fitte” or part is copied. The rest is
- B

2 BALLA D.S & SOAVGS
wanting. Many of its words and phrases are pure
Lancashire. We modernise the spelling.
O THOU that art gentle, for joy of thy dame,
As thou wrought this wide world, in heav'n is thy
hame :
Save all this company, and shield them from shame,
That will listen to me, and 'tend to this game.
God keep all women that to this town 'long,
Maidens, and widows, and eke wives among,
For much they are blamèd, and sometimes with
wrong,
I take witness of all folk that heareth this song.
Listen, good sirs, both young and old ;
Of a good husband this tale shall be told :
He wedded a woman that was fair and bold,"
And had goods enow to wend as they wold.”
She was a good housewife, Courteous and kind,
And he was an angry man, and soon would be tined,”
Chiding and brawling, and fared like a fiend,
As one that oft will be wroth with his best friend.
1 ? Fair to behold. * To go or live as they would.
- * Kindled, enraged.
OF ZAAVCA.S.H.IRE. 3
Till it befel upon a day—short talk to make—
The goodman to the plough his horse 'gan he take ;
He call'd forth his oxen, the white and the blake,
And he said, “Dame, dight" our dinner betimes,
for God’s sake.”
The goodman and his lad to the plough be gone ;
The goodwife had much to do; servant had she
none ;
Many small children to keep, beside herself alone,
She did more than she might within her own wone.”
Home came the goodman by time of the day,
To look that all things were according to his say.
“Dame !” he said, “is our dinner dight?” “Sir”
she said, “nay,
“How would you have me do more than I may 7"
Then he began to chide, and said, “Evil mote"
thou be
“I would thou shouldst all day go to plough with
me ;
“To walk in the clods, that be wet and mere,
“Then shouldst thou wit’ what it were a plough-
man to be.”
* Dress. ' ' Dwelling. * May, must. * Know.
4. BALLA D.S AAWD SONGS
Then sware the goodwife, and thus 'gan she say,
“I have more to do, than do I may,
“An° you should follow me fully one day,
“You’d be weary of your part, my head dare I lay.”
“Weary 1 in the devil's name !” said the goodman :
“What hast thou to do, but sit here at home?
“Thou coyst” to thy neighbour's house, by on and
by eine,”
“And sittest there jangling” with Jack and with
Joan.”
Then said the goodwife, “Fair may you fall;
“I have more to do, whoso wist all ;
“When I lie in my bed, my sleep is but small;
“Yet early in the morning ye will me up call.
“When I lie all night waking, with our dear child,
“I rise up at morrow and find our house wild;
“Then I milk our kine, turn them into the field,
“While you sleep full still, as Christ shall me shield !
“Then make I butter, for cheer in the day,
“After make I cheese. This hold you a play ?
8 If. * Stirrest.
* Halliwell has this expression in the form “On-o-mena”
as Lancashire for “always.” . Ever and anon.
* Prating, quarrelling.
OF LAAVCA SHIRE. 5
“Then will our children weep, and upmost they :
“Yet will you blame me, an any be away.
“When I have so done, yet there comes more e'en,
“I give our chickens meat, or else they will lean ;
“Our hens, our capons, and our ducks be dene,”
“Yet tend I to our goslings that go on the green.
“I bake and I brew ; it will not else be well,
“I beat and swengle flax, as ever I have heyll;”
“I heckle the tow, I kabe,” and I reel;
“I tease wool and card it, and spin it on the wheel.”
“Dame !” said the goodman, “the devil have thy
bones |
“Thou need'st not bake nor brew in fortnight past
once ; 2 * *
“I see no good thou dost within this wide wones,”
“But ever thou excusest thee with groaches" and
groans !”
“Eke a piece of linen and woollen I make once a
year
“For to clothe ourselves and our children in fere,"
“Else we should go to market and buy it full dear;
“I am as busy as I may, in every [gear].
* Done. 18 Heald. * Separate. 15 Dwelling.
* Grumblings. - * Together.
6 BALLA D.S & SOAVGS
“When I have so done, I look on the scone;”
“I ordene meat for our beasts, again that you come
home, -
“And meat for ourselves, again that it be noon,
“Yet I have not a fair word, when that I have done.
“So I look to our good without and within,
“That there be none away, neither more nor min,"
“Glad to please you to pay, lest any bats” begin,
“And for to chide thus with me, i' faith you be
in sin.”
Then said the goodman in a sorry time,
“All this would a good housewife do long ere it
were prime,”
“And sene [since] the good we have is half
deal” thine,
“Thou shalt labour for thy part as I do for mine.
“Therefore, dame, make thee ready, I warn thee anon,
“To-morrow with my lads to the plough thou shalt
gone ;
“And I will be housewife, and keep our house at
home, : - .
“And take mine ease as thou hast done, by God
and St. John "
* The barley cakes baking. * Less. * Blows.
* Six o'clock a.m. * Half share of.
OF LAMCASHIRE. 7
t,” quoth the goodwife, “as I understand,
“Ay, gran
“To-morrow in the morning I will be walkande,
“Yet will I rise, while ye be sleepand,”
“And see that all things be ready laid to your hand.”
So it pass'd all to the morrow that it was daylight,
The goodwife thought over her deed” and up she
rose right. -
“Dame !” said the goodman, “I swear by God's
might,
“I will fette home our beasts, and help that they
were dight.”
The goodman to the field hied him full yarne;”
The goodwife made butter, her deed were full derne;”
She took again the butter-milk and put it in the churn,
And said, “Yet of one point ourSireshall be tolearn.”
Home came the goodman and took good keep
How the wife had laid her flesh for to steep.
She said, “Sir, all this day, ye need not to sleep,
“Keep well our children, and let them not weep.
“If you go to the kiln, malt for to make,
“Put small fire underneath, Sir, for God his sake.
* Yes, agreed; or, I agree. * Sleeping.
* * Beads, or else what she would do. * Early.
27 Secret.
8 BALLA D.S & 3 SOAVGS
“The kiln is low and dry, good tend” that ye take,
“For an it fasten on a fire, it will be evil to slake.
“Here sit two geese abroad; keep them well from
woo,”
“And they may come to good, or you'll work
sorrow enow.”
“Dame,” said the goodman, “hie thee to the plough,
“Teach me no more housewifery, for I can” enow.”
Forth went the goodwife, courteous and hend,”
She call'd to her lad, and to the plough they wend;"
They were busy all day,+-A fytte here I find,
An I had drunk once, ye shall hear the best behind.
A FYTTE.
Here beginneth another fytte, the sooth” for to say,
[The rest is wanting.]
The subject of the above ballad has been a
favourite one for ages on both sides the Scottish
border. As a more modern version, and to eluci-
date the labours of man and wife in their changed
spheres of action, we append the following —
* Care, attention. 20 Woe. * Ken, know.
* Gentle, polite. * GO. 33 Truth.
OF LA MCASHIRE.
THE OLD MAN AND HIS WIFE. .
From Mr. T. O. Halliwell's AWursery Rhymes.
THERE was an old man who liv'd in a wood,
As you may plainly see ;
He said he could do as much work in a day
As his wife could do in three.
“With all my heart,” the old woman said,
“If that you will allow,
“To-morrow you'll stay at home in my stead,
“And I'll go drive the plough.
“But you must milk Tidy the cow,
“For fear that she go dry;
“And you must feed the little pigs,
“That are within the sty;
“And you must mind the speckled hen,
“For fear she lay away ;
“And you must reel the spool of yarn,
“That I spun yesterday.”
The old woman took a staff in her hand,
And went to drive the plough ;
The old man took a pail in his hand,
And went to milk the cow.
Io BAZZA D.S & SONGS OF LA/VCASHIRE.
But Tidy hinched and Tidy flinched,
And Tidy broke his nose;
And Tidy gave him such a blow,
That the blood ran down to his toes.
“High, Tidy ho, Tidy high,
“Tidy stand thou still ;
“If ever I milk you, Tidy, again,
“'Twill be sore against my will.”
He went to feed the little pigs,
That were within the sty;
He hit his head against the beam,
And he made the blood to fly.
He went to mind the speckled hen,
For fear she'd lay astray;
And he forgot the spool of yarn,
His wife spun yesterday.
So he swore by the sun, the moon, and the stars,
And the green leaves on the tree,
If his wife didn't do a day's work in her life,
She should ne'er be ruled by he.

A TRAFFORD AND BYRON FEUD.
By 7%omas Barritt.
IN our Fourth Edward's fickle days
A serious quarrel, story says,
Took place near Rochdale, we are told,
'Twixt Trafford and a Byron bold.
The cause was this, we understand,
About some privilege of land.
Oliver Chadwick, from Chadwick Hall,
On Byron's part that day did fall;
But afterwards it came to pass,
Lord Stanley arbitrator was,
Who fixed it upon this ground,
Trafford should pay full sixty pound,
In holy church at Manchester ;
And from this contract not to err,
To Chadwick's heirs, to keep them quiet,
And never more to move a riot :

12 BALLADS & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE,
Ten marks at birth-day of St. John,
And ten at Martin's day upon,
Each year, until the whole was paid ;
And to be friends again, he said.
The authority for the facts in these rhymes was
a curious deed in the possession of the late Colonel
Chadwick, of the Lancashire Militia, shown to
Barritt. Oliver Chadwick, of Chadwick Hall, in
the parish of Rochdale, was the son of Henry
Chadwick, who died about 1482. Oliver was
living 28th June 1489, but the family pedigree
does not give the date of his death. He left two
sons, Roger and Oliver. Ten marks amount to
246 : 13: 4. St. John's day is June 24, and that
of St. Martin the Bishop in winter, November 11.
In those times payments of importance were usually
required to be made either in the porch or before
the high altar of the parish church.

THE BEWSEY TRAGEDY AND ITs
LEGEND.
THE Botelers, Botilers, or Butlers (i.e. Bottlers),
of Bewsey, near Warrington, derived their name from
their office, Robert le Pincerna having discharged
the duties of that station under Randle Earl of
Chester, in I 158; hence taking the surname.
Almeric Butler, his descendant, having married
Beatrice, daughter and co-heir of Matthew Williers,
Lord of Warrington, became possessed of the
barony. A MS. in the Bodleian Library gives the
following statement, which is manifestly incorrect
in respect of names and parties, though corrobo-
rated by tradition, which still preserves the memory
of this horrible event —“Sir John Butler, knight,
was slaine in his bedde by the procurement of the
Lord Standley, Sir Piers Legh, and Mister William
Savage, joining with him in that action (corrupting
his servants), his porter setting a light in a window
to give light upon the water that was about his

I 4 BAZZA D.S & SONGS
house at Bewsey (where your way to . . . . .
comes). They came over the moate in lether
boats, and so to his chamber, where one of
his servants, named Houlcrofte, was slaine, being
his chamberlaine: the other basely betrayed his
master ; they payed him a great reward, and so
coming away with him, they hanged him at a tree
in Bewsey Parke –after this Sir John Butler's
lady prosecuted those that slew her husband, and
. . . . 24, 20 for that suite ; but being married to
Lord Grey, he made her suite voyde, for which
reason she parted from her husband, and came
into Lancashire, saying, “If my lord will not let me
have my will of my husband's enemies, yet shall
my body be buried by him ;
tomb of alabaster to be made, where she lyeth
on the . . . . . hand of her husband Sir John
Butler.”
5
and she caused a
“The occasion of the murder was this —
King Harry the Seventh being to come to Latham,
the Earl [of Derby], his brother-in-law, sent unto him
[Sir John Butler] a message to desire him to wear
his cloth at that time ; but in his absence his lady
scorned that her husband should wait on her brother,
being as well able to entertain the king as he was.
OF LAWCASHIRE, I 5
Which answer he [the Earl] took in great disdain,
and prosecuted the said Sir John with all malice
that could be. And amongst other things, the said
Sir John had a ferry at Warrington, which was
worth a hundred marks [4.66 : 13:4] by the year
unto him ; there being no bridge. The Earl,
coming to go to London, the said Sir John would
not suffer him to pass, but forced him about by
Manchester. Whereupon the Earl bought a piece
of land of one Norris of Warrington, by which
means he was privileged to . . . . on the other side ;
and so builded a bridge at Warrington, on both
sides, being his own land. And the said Sir John
Butler, after the bridge was builded, did notwith-
standing exact and take toll and tax of all passen-
gers as before ; whereon the Earl caused the king
to make it free. On that and such like discontents,
they [the Earl and Sir John] took arms against one
another; and Sir Piers Legh and William Savage
that sided with the Earl made . . . . upon Warring-
ton Heath, which were to be seen not long since,
before the inclosing of the said heath. So in the
end, during the uproar, they corrupted his servants,
and murdered him in his bed. His lady, at that
instant being in London, did dream the same night
that her husband was slain, and that Bewsey Hall
I6 BALLADS & SONGS
did swim with blood; whereupon she presently
came homewards, and heard by the way the report
of his death.”
[The editor wrote to an accomplished anti-
quary, long a resident of Warrington, respecting
this tradition, and the following is this gentleman's
reply:—“The subject has puzzled me and all
other Warrington antiquaries for many a long year,
and we are not satisfied yet. No one of the al-
leged actors, no one of the facts, and no one of
the causes of the supposed quarrel, can be true.
When the last Sir John Butler died, there was no
Earl of Derby; and when King Henry VII, visited
the Earl at Latham, the Earl's sister, who had
married Sir John Butler, was dead. I believe,
however, that the story has a foundation, though
the actores fabulae are phantoms.”
The late Mr. Roby published in his “Tradi-
tions of Lancashire” a ballad on this subject. The
following, however, will be found to adhere more
closely than his to the tradition of the neighbour-
hood :—
OF ZAAVCA SHIRE, 17
BUTLER OF BEWSEY.
LISTEN, lords and ladies fair,
And gentles, to my roundelay;
List, youths and maidens debonnaire,
To this most doleful tragedy.
Of Pincerna, that noble race,
That Botiller was yolept, I say ;
And Bewsey Hall, that goodly place,
Where traitors did the Butler slay.
Fatal the feud 'tween him and one
Whose sister was his wedded wife;
The proud Earl Derby, whose false son
Did plot to take the Butler's life. •
Savage by name and nature too,
Piers Legh, that piercêd all too free,
Join'd with Lord Stanley and his crew,
And bought the warder's treacherie.
A light shone from the warder's tow'r,
When all the house lay sunk in sleep,
To guide those murd’rers, fell and stour,
Across the moat, dark, wide, and deep,
C
I 8
BAZZA D.S & 2 SO/WGS
In leathern boats they cross'd, and then
The warder softly oped the gate :
Bold 'fronted them the chamberlain ;
Holcrofte his master warn’d—too late.
Him they slew first, and then the knight,
While sleeping, 'neath their daggers bled ;
A faithful negro, black as night,
Snatcht up the infant heir and fled.
That felon porter craved reward
For treach’rous guiding in the dark : .
They paid him ; then for his false guard
They hung him on a tree in the park.
In vain they sought—the child was saved ;
But gallant Butler was no more :
That night his wife in London dreamt
That Bewsey Hall did swim with gore.
When that she learn'd the foul deed done,
She pray'd they might have felons' doom ;
But might 'gainst right the struggle won;
Then sigh’d she forth in bitter gloom —
“If by my lord's fell foes and mine
“My will in life is thus denied ;
“And I must live, bereaved, to pine,
“Death nor the grave shall us divide.”
OF LA/VCA.S.H.I.R.E. I9
An alabaster tomb she made,
To her lov'd husband's mem'ry true ;
And on her death her corse was laid
Close by his side, 'neath aged yew.
Mourn for the brave, the fair and true,
Sleeping in love, and hope, and faith;
May ruthless ruffians ever rue
Their murder foul, brave Butler's death !
It is stated in an early MS., but on anonymous
authority, that Sir Piers Legh, being an ecclesiastic,
was sentenced, as a penance for his share in this
murder, to build Disley church, which he per-
formed in the year 1527. A native poet, in a
modern poem of considerable merit,' thus com-
memorates the Bewsey tragedy:—
“BUT yet th' historic page records a tale,
Crimson'd with blood, when ev'n these stately walls,
As yet uninjur’d by the shocks of time,
Could not the sword of massacre repel
From their own guarded Lord ; for civil strife
* “Bewsey,” a poem, was written by the late John
Fitchett, Esq. of Warrington, and was published by sub-
scription many years ago, quarto, pp. 32. It is now a very
Scarce book.
2O BAZZA D.S & SONGS.
Bade here dark Murder his fell poignard steep
In the defenceless breast. A hireling band
At dead of night, when nature sunk to rest,
And sleep secure had those proud tow’rs disarm’d,
Hither insidious stole. Their dread designs
Base-creeping fraud forewent, and bribery sped;
For from yon window of old Gothic form
Beam'd light perfidious, set by venal hands,
Guiding their silent steps. The guardian moat
Saw wond'ring its strange passengers, borne o'er
In stranger vehicles. With fancy's eye,
There do I still behold the taper, set,
With treason big, blue-gleaming on the wave :
There too, again, I view aghast the band
Of grim assassins, murder in their looks,
In silence cross the glimm'ring lake, and hear
Yon massy door, hoarse-creaking on its hinge,
By trait’rous hands slow drawn. Ah! there, behold!
The nightly raven, screaming, flaps his wing,
Portending death; and hark! within, the sound
Of clashing arms, horrific, stuns the ear!
Ah! list the dying groans, the fearful shrieks,
The hollow-trampling feet, the murd’rers' shout,
That, mingling in one horrid echo, bid
Ev’n Fancy's self, wild-starting, shrink appall'd
Tradition tells, a faithful Negro brav'd
OF WAAVCA SAT/A&AE. 2 I
Singly their savage rage, and bold oppos'd
Their passage to the room where thoughtless slept
His dearly-honour'd master, till at last,
O'erpower'd by numbers, and o'erwhelm'd with
wounds,
Alas! he nobly fell. Their reeking hands
Unsated yet, had still to execute
Deeds of black import, and dire schemes of blood:
For ah! unarm’d, and in his bed surpris'd,
Vilely they butcher'd the devoted Lord!
Meanwhile a servant-maid, with pious guile,
Bore in her apron, artfully conceal’d,
The infant heir; and many a danger brav'd,
Saved him uninjur'd from the ruffians' sword,
The Negro's valour fav'ring her escape.”
This fact, as well as that the heroic servant
was a Negro, though not specified in the Bodleian
MS., is traditionary in the neighbourhood. Mr.
Fitchett states that this faithful Negro, as the
last earthly reward that could be paid him, was
interred with Sir John and Lady Butler in the family
vault, in a small chapel belonging to them, in War-
rington church, which now belongs to the Athertons
of Atherton; and in which the figures of the un-
fortunate knight and his lady are represented in
22 BALLA DS & SOAVG.S OF LAAWCASH/RE.
alabaster, lying on a tomb-stone, adorned with
curious sculpture ; and in a niche in the wall is a
figure of the Negro, in a recumbent posture, of
black stone, or stained composition. It is evidently
to this tradition that Pennant refers in his Zour
(p. 20), when he states that “Sir Thomas (Butler),
I believe the last of his name, was, with his lady,
murdered in his house by assassins, who in the
night crossed the moat in leathern boats, orcoracles,
to perpetrate this villainy.”

THE LAN CASHIRE HEROES.
In Praise of the Valiant Champions of the AVorth.
(MS. Ashm. Vol. xlviii. Art. 52, fol. 1 or.)
WITHIN ye northe contrè,
Many noble men there be,
Ye shall well understand,
Therys ye yerle off Westmorland,'
Ye quyns lyffeteanant
A noble man and a valiant;
Then yer ys ye yerle of Combarland,”
And ye yerle of Northomberland,”
And Sir Harry Perce, his brother,"
As good a man as another
He ys, and hardy knight,
And hath oft put the Skotts to flight.
There ys my lord Ivars,” my lord Dacars,"
With all their partacors,
Noble men and stowte,
I do put youe out off dowte;

24 BALLA D.S & 9 SOAVGS
Yf ye Skotts ons looke owte,
Ye (they) wyll rape them at yº sknowte,
For Northarne men wyll fight
Bothe be day and night,
Her enymyes when
As ye hawk upon her pray;
Therys also Sir Harry Ley,’
Which dar both fight and fray,
Whether it be night or day,
I dare be bold to say,
He wyll not rone away,
He ys both hardy and fre;
There ys also Sir Rychard Lye,”
Which ys both war and wice,
And of polytyk device,
All thes well I do knowe :
Yet ys ther many moo,
The which I cannot nam,
That be men of mickle fame,
God save the yerle of Shrowesbyry "
The above verses have a place assigned rather
because of their title, than because of any Lanca-
shire heroes named in them. They would seem
to refer to some period in the reign of Queen
Elizabeth, when the Earl of Westmorland was the
OF ZAAVCA SHIRE. 25
queen's lieutenant in that part of the kingdom.
Most probably that period was about 1569, when
the rebellion in the north arose. They were writ-
ten before 1572, because they name the Earl of
Northumberland and Sir Harry Percy his brother,
who succeeded to the earldom in that year. The
following notes may identify the persons named:—
! The Earl of Westmorland was probably Charles Neville,
sixth earl, who was attainted in I570, because of his share in
the Rebellion of the North, when all his honours were for-
feited, and the title remained in abeyance till 1624.
* The Earl of Cumberland was Henry Clifford, second
earl, who died in 1569.
* The Earl of Northumberland was Thomas Percy, the
seventh earl of that name, created earl in May 1557, attainted
in I 57 I, and beheaded in 1572, because of his share in the
Rebellion of the North.
* Sir Henry Percy, his brother and heir-male, succeeded
to the earldom in 1572, as eighth earl of his family, and was
found dead in the Tower from a pistol-shot in I 585.
* Lord Ivars of the text was William Evre, second baron
Evers, Evre, or Eure; succeeding his grandfather, the first
baron. He died in I 594.
° The Lord Dacres of the text was probably George
Dacre, fourth baron Dacre of Gillesland, or of the North,
who was under age in 1566, and died in 1569. His son,
Leonard Dacre, was an active leader in the Rebellion of the
North.
26 BA LLA D.S & 9 SOAVGS OF LA/VCA SHIRE.
* Sir Harry Ley (Lee) of the verses was probably the brave
old veteran of that name who, at a great age, lamented to
his queen that he could no longer show his devotion to her
by deeds of arms. There was also a Sir Henry de Lee,
near Preston, Co. Lancaster.
* Sir Richard Lye of the text it is not easy to identify.
He may have been one of the Richard Leighs of West Hall,
High Leigh, Co. Chester; the father dying in 1582, and the
son in 1586.
* The Earl of Shrewsbury, with a benison on whom the
verses conclude, was probably George Talbot, ninth earl
(the sixth of his name), who succeeded his father in 1560,
held the high office of earl-marshal, was K.G., and died in
1590. He was the unfortunate gaoler of Mary Queen of Scots.

THE SCOTTISH FIELD, OR FLODDEN
FIELD.
A BALLAD-POEM in MS., entitled “The Scottish
Field,” was discovered by William Beamont, Esq.,
of Warrington, in the muniments at Lyme, written
on strips of parchment, which had been pasted
together to form a roll of about thirteen feet long
by three and a half inches wide. The first portion
has been lost, or it would have been between
two and three feet longer. The writing is, in the
opinion of Sir Frederick Madden, of the latter
half of the reign of Queen Elizabeth. It was
printed in the second volume of “Chetham Mis-
cellanies,” edited by J. Robson, Esq., M.D., of
Warrington. The English army seems to have
been arrayed in two battles, a vanward and a rear-
ward, each having a centre and two wings. Of
the first, the right wing (and extreme right of the
army) was under Edward Howard, a younger son
of the Earl of Surrey, and consisted of the Lanca-

28 AA LILA D.S & 9 SOAVG.S.
shire and Cheshire troops, with Sir Thomas Butler,
Sir John Booth [of Barton], Sir Richard Bold, and
others. The right wing was driven back at the
outset. The second battle, or rearward, was under
the immediate command of the Earl of Surrey,
who led its centre; and its left wing was com-
manded by Sir Edward Stanley, afterwards Lord
Monteagle. The poet has assigned the place of
honour to John Stanley, son of the Bishop of Ely,
and commander of his contingent. He afterwards
married the daughter of William Handford, so em-
phatically distinguished in the MS. The poem
may have been written about two years after the
battle (which took place 9th September 1513), as
it laments the Bishop of Ely's death, which occurred
in March 1515. Of course we select from this
quaint alliterative poem only such portions as relate
to Lancashire men and their acts. Referring to
the Earl of Surrey, the writer tells us—
He made letters boldly all the land over ;
In Lancashire belive, he caused a man to ride,
To the Bishop of Ely, that bode in those parts :
Courteously commanded him, in the king's name,
To summon the shire and set them in order:
OF ZA/VCASA//RE. 29
He was put in more power than any prelate else.
Then the bishop full boldly bowneth' forth his
standard,
With a captain full keen, as he was known after ;
He made a wee” to wind, to warn his dear brother
Edward, that eager knight, that epe' was of deeds !
A stalk of the Stanleys, steepe' of himself!
Then full radly” he raiseth
Rinckes" ten thousands:
To Skipton in Craven then he come belive,’
There abideth he the banner of his dear brother,
Till a captain with it come, that known was full
wide,
Sir John Stanley, that stout knight, that stern was
of deeds ! -
With four thousand fursemen” that followed him
after ;
They were tenants that they took, that tenden on
the bishop,
Of his household, I you hete," hope ye no other.
Every bairn had on his breast broidered with gold,
A foot of the fairest fowl that ever flew on wing !
With their crowns full clear, all of pure gold
* Setteth, displayeth. * Man. * Apt.
* 2 Stipes, a branch. * Readily. * Soldiers.
" Soon, immediately. * Fierce men. 9 Tell.
3O BAZZA D.S & SONGS
It was a seemly sight to see them together,
Fourteen thousand eagle-feet, fettled” in array.
If ye would wit” the wings that to that [rear] ward
'longed, -
That was a bishop full bold, that born was at Lathom;
Of Ely that ilk lord, that epe was of deeds !
An egg of that bold earl, that naméd was Stanley;
JNear of nature to the duke, that noble have been
eVer : t
But now death with his dart hath driven him away!
It is a loss to the land : our Lord have his soul
For his wit and his wisdom, and his wale” deeds:
He was a pillar of peace the people among ;
His servants they may syke” and sorrow for his
sake,
What for pity and for pain my pen doth me fail;
I will meddle with this matter no more at this time,
But he that he is makles” of mercy have mind on
his soul .
Then he sent with his company a knight that was
noble, -
Sir John Stanley, that stout knight, that stern was
of deeds ;
* Got ready, set right. * Know. * Good, brave.
* Sigh. * Matchless.
OF LAAVCA SHIRE. 3 I
There was neverbairn born that day bare him better.
The left wing to that rearward was my Lord Mont
eagle, . -
With many lads of Lancashire that to him 'longed,
Who foughten full furiously while the field lasted.
Many squires full swiftly were swept to the death !
Sir John Both of Barton was brought from his life
A more bolder bairn was never born on woman.
And of Lancashire John Lawrence : our Lord have
their souls
These freaks” would never flee, for fear that might
happen,
They were killed like conquerors, in their king's
service.
Then the Scots king calleth to him a herald,
Biddeth tell him the truth and tarry no longer-
Who were the banners of the bairns that bode in
the valley'ſ
“They are standards of the Stanleys, that stand by
themselven ; -
If he be faren" into France, the Frenchmen to
feere,"
15 Men. * Fared, gone. * To frighten.
32 BALLA D.S & SOAVGS
Yet is his standard in that stead” with a stiff captain,
Sir Henry Kighley is called, that keen is of deeds;
Sir Thomas Jarred, that jolly knight, is joined there-
under,
With Sir William Molynex, with a manful meany;”
These freaks will never flee for fear of no weapon,
But they will stick with their standards in their
steel weeds;"
Because they bashed” them at Berwick, that boldeth
them the more.
Lo how he batters and beats, the bird with his
wings
We are feard of yonder fowl, so furiously he fareth !
And yonder streamer full straight that standeth him
beside,
Is the standard of St. Tandere,
That never beaten was in battle, for bairn upon
lyve!”
The third standard in the stead is my Lords
Mounteagle.”
Lancashire lads like lions laiden them aboute
All had been lost, by our Lord had not those
lads been
18" Place. * A troop, or following. * Dress, armour.
* Put them down. * In life, alive.
OF LA WCASHIRE. 33
But the care of the Scots increased full sore:
For their king was down knocked and killed in
their sight,
Under the banner of a bishop, that was, the bold
Stanley !
NotES.—James Stanley, brother of Thomas, first Earl
of Derby, was Bishop of Ely and warden of the collegiate
church of Manchester.—Edward Stanley was not created
Lord Monteagle till the following year (1514).-Sir John
Stanley, son of the Bishop of Ely, was knighted on the field
of battle.—Eagle-feet is a cognizance of the Stanleys.--The
Lawrences were a family seated in the north of Lancashire.
—The Kighleys were especially attached to the Stanleys.-
“Sir Thomas Jarred” is Gerard of the Bryn, ancestor of the
present Sir Robert Gerard of Garswood.—Sir William Moly-
neux was of Sefton.—Dr. Robson says the standard of “St.
Tandere” should be that of St. Cuthbert, under which the
troops of the bishopric fought.—From the concluding lines
of the poem, its author would seem to have been one of the
I.eghs of Baguley, Cheshire.

THE FAMOUS HISTORY OR SONG
CALLED FLODDEN FIELD.
(Harl. MS., Cod. 3526.)
THIS ballad-poem has a long title, ending with
“the most courageous Knight Sir Edward Standley,
who for his prowess and valiantness showed at
the said battle, was made Lord Mount Eagle,
as the sequel declareth.” The poem is contained
in 9 Fittes or Cantos, occupying 66 closely-printed
4to pages. We select a few extracts bearing upon
Lancashire —
There is Sir Edward Standley stout,
For martial skill clear without make'
Of Lathom House by line came out,
Whose blood will never turn their back.
All Lancashire will live and die
With him, so chiefly will Cheshire,
For thro' his father's force, quoth he,
This kingdom first came to my Sire.
* Match.

BALLADS & SOAVGS OF LANCASHIRE. 35
% % % # %
Now like a Captain bold he brought
A band of lusty lads elect,
Whose curious coats commily wrought
With dreadful dragons’ were bedeckt;
From Pennigent to Pendle Hill,
From Linton and Long Addingham,
And all that Craven crofts did till ;
They with the lusty Clyfford came.
From Lancashire of lusty blood,
A thousand soldiers stiff in stour."
Sir Edward Standley, stiff in stour,
He is the man on whom I mean,
With him did pass a mighty pow'r,
Of soldiers, seemly to be seen.
Most liver lads on Lonsdale bred,
With weapons of unwieldy weight,
All such as Tatham Fells had fed,
Went under Standley's streamer bright.
From Bowland, billmen bold were bound
With such as Bretton banks did aid;
* Comely.
* : Griffins, the dexter supporter of the Stanley arms.
* Fight. -
36 BALLA D.S & 3 SOAVG.S.
* * * * º:
All Lancashire for the most part
The lusty Standley stout can lead,
A stock of striplings strong of heart,
Brought up from babes with beef and bread.
From Warton unto Warrington,
From Wigan unto Wiresdale,
From Weddecon to Waddington,
From Ribchester unto Rochdale,
From Poulton to Preston [proud] with pikes
They with the Standley out forth went.
From Pemberton and Pilling Dikes,
For battle billmen bold were bent.
With fellows fierce and fresh for fight,
Which Halton fields did turn in force ;
With lusty lads, liver and light,
From Blackburn and Bolton-in-the-Moors.
With children chosen from Cheshire
In armour bold for battle drest,
And many a gentleman and Squire
Were under Standley's streamer prest,
etC. etC, etC.
Another poem in the Harl. MSS. (Cod. 395), of
Zess authentic character, ends thus:–
OF LA AVCA SHIRE. 37
Now God that was in Bethlehem born,
And for us died upon a tree,
Save our noble prince that wears the crown,
And shew his mercy on the Earl of Derby.
The Mirror for Magistrates contains two metri-
cal pieces on the Battle of Flodden Field. The
first (Vol. II., p. 442) is entitled “The Lamenta-
tion of King James the Fourth, King of Scots,
slain at Brampton (another name for the same
battle), in the 5th year of King Henry the Eighth,
Anno Christi 1513.” It contains nothing to con-
nect it with Lancashire. But the next piece
(p. 449), entitled “The Bataile of Brampton or
Floddon Field, faught in the year of our Redeemer
1513, and in the 5th year of the reign of the
victorious prince King Henry the Eighth,” has
some reference to the Lancashire forces. After
enumerating the leaders and officers in the van-
ward and middle-ward, the writer, Francis Dingley
of Manston, thus refers to the rear-ward :—
STANZA 14.
Sir Edward Stanley in the rearward was he,
A noble knight both wise and hardy;
With many a noble man of the west countrey,
38 BAZLADS & SONGS
And the whole powre of the Earle of Darby,
With a royal retinue of the Bishop of Ely;
And of Lankeshyre men manly did fight,
By the help of God, and in their prince's right.
STANZA 18. . -
The red lyon with his owne father's bloud inclynate,
Came towards the white lyon both meeke and mylde,
And there by the hand of God he was prostrate,
By the help of th' eagle with her swadled chylde :
The Buckes-heads also the Scots has beguilde;
And with their grey goose wings doulfully them
dight,
By the help of God, and in our prince's right.
The eagle and child was the crest, and the bucks'
heads one of the badges or ensigns, of the Stanleys.
The grey goose wings of course refer to the archers
under the command of Sir Edward Stanley.
Sir Edward Stanley of Hornby Castle, Lancashire,
commanded the [left wing of the] rear of the English
army at Flodden Field, 9th September 1513, and
forcing the Scots, by the power of his archers,
OF AAAWCA.S.H.I.R.E. 39.
to descend the hill, thus broke their line, and
ensured the triumph of the English arms; for
which good service Henry VIII., keeping his
Whitsuntide at Eltham, the following year (1514)
commanded that Sir Edward Stanley, for those
valiant acts against the Scots, where he won the
hill and vanquished all that opposed him, as
also that his ancestors bore the eagle in their
crest, should be there proclaimed Lord of Mont-
eagle, and he had subsequently summons to parlia-
ment in that dignity. He was also elected a
Knight of the Garter—Burke's Peerage.

A LOVE SONG.
By A'ichard Sheale."
(Ashm, MS. 48.)
My Kebbell sweet, in whom I trust,
Have now respect, and do not faylle
Thy faithful frend, who ys most just,
And shall not in hys frendshyp quayle;
But prove himself as just and true,
As ever sowthe was fownd in yow.
For fleetynge tyme, nor wastfull swoord,
Nor tawntinge gyrds fawstered in art,
Shall make me to forgo my woord,
Nor from my faythfull frend astart;
But wyll be fownd as tryèd gowlde,
As frendlynes requyres yt showlde.
* Richard Sheale is believed to have been a Lancashire
man. He wrote the rhyming epitaph on Margaret, Countess
of Derby, second wife of Edward, second Earl (1558), and
is also believed to have been the writer of the finest old
ballad in the English language—“Chevy Chase.”
* Can this be an error for Rebel ?

BALLA DS & SONGS OF LA WCASHIRE, 41
Thy tender hart to gentell kynde
Doth show what rase ingendred thé;
A nobell hart in the I fynd,
Which makes me to thy wyll agré ;
And ever wyll and ever shall,
Tho' I showlde dwell in lastyng thrall.
Lothsom dysdayne dothe swelle to sé,
And ragying ire doth boyle allso,
For sowthe trew faythe' grounded to be
In harts dwellynge on yerthe below ;
Wher they] do thynk that hydden guylle
Doth trap men wyth hys subtyll wyle.
I woowld I had the nymbell wynges
Of mylk-whyte dove that clyps in sckye;’
In fethers then I woold be clad
To mownt over the mowntaynes hye,
And lyght on the I woold be bolde,
That kepethe fast my hart in howlde
* Forsooth, true faith ; i.e., “in fact, true faith.”
* Clips in sky—Anglo-Sax., clyp, to cut; in other words,
that cleaves the air.
*
A BALADE OF MARYAGE.
THE following specimen of old local poetry
was discovered some years ago among the papers
at Browsholme Hall, Lancashire, the seat of the
Parkers, hereditary bow-bearers of Bowland, and
it is now printed with Dr. Whitaker's abridg-
ments and corrections. We have modernised
the spelling —
In yonder wood there is a dene,
Where I myself was late reposing;
Where blossoms in their prime have been,
And flowers fair their colours losing;
A love of mine I chanced to meet,
Which caused me too long to tarry,
And then of him I did intreat,
To tell me when he thought to marry.
“If thou wilt not my secret tell,
Ne bruit abroad in Whalley parish,

BALLA DS & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE, 43
And Swear to keep my counsel well,
I will declare my day of marriage.
“When summer's heat will dry no mire,
And winter's rain no longer patter;
When lead will melt withouten fire,
And bear-brades' do need no water;
When Downham stones with diamond rings,
And cockles be with pearls comparèd;
When gold is made of gray goose wings,
Then will my love and I be marrièd.
“When buck and hart in Hodder lies,
And graylings on the fells are breeding;
When mussels grow on every tree,
And Swans on every rock are feeding ;
When mountains are by men removed,
And Ribble back to Horton carried,
Or Pendle Hill grows silk above,
Then will my love and I be married.
* The young green shoots of bear, or bigg, a coarse kind
of barley, to which rain is indispensable when they first
appear above ground.
* At Downham crystals-are found, usually called Down-
ham diamonds, which in lustre equal Bristol stones.
44 BALLADS & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE,
“When moor or moss do saffron yield,
And beck’ and sike' run down with honey;
When sugar grows in every field,
And clerks will take no bribe of money;
When men in Bowland dieth here,
And at Jerusalem be buried;
Or when the sun doth rise at noon,
Then will my love and I be married.”
“Now, farewell, friend ; if it be so,
And this thy once expected wedding;
For neither I, nor none of my kin
Will ever need to look for bidding.”
I swear and vow, if this be true,
And thou of such an evil carriage,
If I should live ten thousand year,
I’d never more expect thy marriage.”
* Beck is the Scandinavian name for a brook or burn.
* Sike is a small rivulet or stream; in Lancashire often
called a rindle.
* Bidding to a wedding is inviting. So at a funeral, two
or four persons, called bidders, are sent about to invite the
friends and distribute the mourning.
THE BLESSED CONSCIENCE.
Written on the departure from Merry England of
Thomas Hoghton, Esq. of Hoghton Tower.
“THIs ballad,” it is stated by Mr. J. H. Dixon
(who was an active member of the Percy Society,
and a great collector of these things), “has long
been sung in Pendle Forest, Lancashire, and the
neighbourhood; having been handed down by
tradition. It was first printed by Mr. Peter
Whittle, F.S.A., of Preston, whose copy was taken
from the recitation of a Lancashire fiddler. There
are various versions, but the differences between
them are unimportant.” The ballad carries with
it evidence of the date of the events it sings. The
“Bishop Younge” named in the 3d verse, was
originally a chorister at St. David's Cathedral, and
in 1559 was made bishop of that see, from which
he was translated to the archiepiscopal see of
York, which he held about ten years (1560–1570)

46 BAZZA D.S & SOAVGS
and was also for a considerable period Lord Presi-
dent of the North. In both his high functions,
civil and ecclesiastic, he would have the right to
summon before him any “obstinate” Catholic
recusant who would not attend church, or who
otherwise showed his determination not to conform
to the sort of Protestantism which was held to be
the established religion in the reign of Elizabeth.
The Thomas Hoghton, the hero of the ballad, was,
in all probability, the son and heir (by his first
wife, Alice Assheton) of Sir Richard, who was
knight of the shire in 1547. At Sir Richard's
death in 1559, Thomas was 40 years of age. He
married Catherine, daughter of Sir Thomas Gerard
of Brynne, and both families were persecuted for
their religion. The only full brother of Thomas
was Alexander, who was twice married, but died
without issue. Thomas had, however, three half-
brothers, sons of his father's second wife, Alice
Morley, of whom the eldest was the Thomas who
was Sheriff of Lancashire in 1563, and who
was slain at Lea in a tumult brought against
him by Thomas Langton, Baron of Newton, in
November 1589. The other two were Rowland
and Richard ; the latter, though only of half
blood, being the only real brother in love, if we
OF LA/VCA.S.H.I.R.E. 47
are to believe the ballad. We take it from a printed
copy in eight pages, obligingly forwarded to us for
that purpose, by Mr. Whittle, only modernising
the spelling.—ED.
Apollo, with his radiant beams,
Inflamed the air so fair,
Phaëton with his fiery teams
The heat of wars did bear.
The day was hot, the evening cool,
And pleasures did abound ;
And meads, with many a crystal pool,
Did yield a joyful sound.
This fragrant time to pleasures prest,
Myself for to solâce,
I walkèd forth, as I thought best,
Into a private place.
And as I went, myself alone,
There came to my presence
A friend, who seem'd to make great moan,
And said, “Go, get you hence.”
“Alas ! good Sir, what is the cause
You this have said to me?”
“Indeed,” he said, “the Prince's laws
Will bear no more with thee:
48 BALLADS & SONGS
For Bishop Younge will summon thee;
You must to his presence;
For in this land you cannot live
And keep your consciênce.”
“I am told, I must not ride,
... What is my best to do?”
“Good Sir, here you must not abide,
Unless to church you go :
Or else to Preston you must wend,
For here is no residênce ;
For in this land you have no friend
To keep your consciênce.”
“Then did I think it was the best
For me in time provide :
For Bishop Younge would me molest,
If here I should abide.
Then did I cause my men prepare,
A ship for my defence;
For in this land I could not fare,
And keep my consciênce.
“When my ship that it was hired,
My men return’d again 5
The time was almost full expired,
That here I should remain ;
OF LAMCASHIRE, 49
To Preston town I should have gone
To make recognizance;
For other helps perceived I none,
But keep my consciênce.
“To lovely Lea' then I me hied,
And Hoghton bade farewell :
It was more time for me to ride,
Than longer there to dwell.
I durst not trust my dearest friend,
But secretly stole hence,
To take the fortune God should send,
And keep my consciênce.
“When to the sea I came until [i.e., unto],
And passèd by the gate,
My cattle all, with voices shrill,
As if they mourn'd my fate,
* Lea, a manor and hamlet three miles west of Preston,
came to the Hoghtons by the marriage of Sir Richard de
Hoghton, about 1308 or 1309, to Sibilla, daughter and
heiress of William, son and heir of Henry de Lea. Lea
Hall was about three and a half miles from Preston ; and it
was there that Thomas Hoghton (our hero's half-brother),
then sheriff, was slain by Thomas Langton, baron of Newton,
in November 1589, a few months before Thomas the elder
died in exile.
E
5O AALLA D.S & SOAVG.S.
Did leap and roar, as if they had
Understood my diligence [? intelligence]:
It seem'd my cause they understood,
Thro' God’s good providence.
“At Hoghton high, which is a bower
Of sports and lordly pleasure,
I wept, and left that lofty tower
Which was my chiefest treasure.”
To save my soul and lose the rest,
It was my true pretence :
Like frighted bird, I left my nest,
To keep my consciênce.
“Thus took I there my leave, alas !
And rode to the sea-side;
Into the ship I hied apace,
Which did for me abide.
* Hoghton was the ancient seat of the Hoghtons, being
held as early as the reign of Henry II. by Adam de Hocton,
who married the daughter of Warin de Bussel, baron of
Penwortham, shortly after the Conquest. The present
Hoghton Tower, now a ruin, of which only two or three
apartments remain, was built by Sir Thomas Hoghton (who
here laments to leave it) in the reign of Elizabeth. Pre-
viously, the ancient manor-house stood below the hill on the
water-side; but he built the new tower, with a lofty gate-
house, on its present elevated and commanding site.
OF LA WC.A.S.H.I.R.E. 5 I
With sighs I sail'd from merry England,
I ask’d of none license :
Wherefore my estate fell from my hand,
And was forfeit to my Prince.
“Thus merry England have I left,
And cut the raging sea,
Whereof the waves have me bereft
Of my so dear country.
With sturdy storms and blustering blast
We were in great suspense;
Full sixteen days and nights they last,
And all for my conscience.
“When on the shore I was arrived,
Through France I took my way;
And unto Antwerp I me hied,
In hope to make my stay.
When to the city I did come,
I thought that my absence
Would to my men be cumbersome,
Though they made me no offence.
“At Hoghton, where I used to rest,
Of men I had great store,
Full twenty gentlemen at least,
Of yeomen good threescore.
52 BALLA D.S & SONGS
And of them all, I brought but two
With me, when I came thence ;
I left them all the world knows how,
To keep my consciênce.
“But when my men came to me still,
Lord how rejoiced I,
To see them with so good a will
To leave their own country
Both friends and kin they did forsake,
And all for my presence; -
Alive or dead, amends I’ll make,
And give them recompence.
“But fortune had me so bereft,
Of all my goods and lands,
That for my men was nothing left
But at my brethren's hands.
Then did I think the truth to prove
Whilst I was in absence,
That I might try their constant love,
And keep my consciênce.
“When to my brethren I had sent,
The welcome that they made
Was, false reports me to present,
Which made my conscience sad.
OF ZAAVCA SAT/A&AE. 53
My brethren all did thus me cross,
And little regard my fall,
Save only one—that rued my loss—
That is Richard, of Park Hall.
“He was the comfort that I had ;
I proved his diligence;
He was as just, as they were bad,
Which cheered my conscience.
When this report of them I heard,
My heart was sore with grief,
In that my purpose was so marr'd,
My men should want relief.
“Good cause I had to love my men,
And them to recompense;
Their lives they ventured, I know when,
And left their dear parents.
Then to come home straightway I meant,
My men for to relieve;
My brethren sought this to prevent,
And sums of gold did give.
“A thousand marks' they offered then,
To hinder my license;
That I should not come home again,
To keep my consciênce.
* A666 : 13: 4.
54 BALLA D.S & SOAVGS
But if that day I once had seen,
My lands to have again,
And that my Prince had changèd been,
I would not me have stay’n.
“I should my men so well have paid,
Thro' God's good providence,
That they should ne'er have been afraid
To lose their due expense.
“But now my life is at an end,
And death is at the door;
That grisly ghost his bow doth bend,
And through my body gore;
Which nature now must yield to clay,
And death will take me hence ;
And now I shall go where I may
Enjoy my consciênce.
“Fair England now ten times adieu,
And friends that therein dwell ;
Farewell my brother Richard true,
Whom I did love so well.
Farewell, farewell good people all,
And learn experiênce;
Love not too much the golden ball,
But keep your consciênce "
OF VCA AVCA.S.H.I.R.E. 55
All you who now this song shall hear,
Help me for to bewail
The wight, who scarcely had his peer,
Till death did him assail."
His life a mirror was to all,
His death without offence ;
“Confessor,” then, let us him call,
O blessed consciênce
* He seems to have died in exile in the year 1590, aged
61 years.

THE RADCLIFFE TRAGEDY OF
“FAIR ELLEN.”
AMONGST the common people (says Baines in his
Zancashire) a story is currently believed that the
kitchen of Radcliffe Tower was the scene of a
cruel tragedy, perpetrated by a menial on the
daughter of the lord, to gratify the malice and
Cupidity of a stepmother; and a red stain on
the floor marks, as it is said, the place where the
victim fixed her bloody hand while her murderer
perpetrated the atrocity. Although there is nothing
in the family history to support this tradition,
and although for 60 years back at least (we may
now say, for nearly a century) there has been
no such relic to be found in Radcliffe Tower,
the tradition is not on that account the less
firmly believed. A ballad of the story, under
the title of “The Lady Isabella's Tragedy,” is
printed in Bishop Percy's Reliques (vol. iii. p.
I54), with the following introduction —“This

BAZZADS & SONGS OF LAWCASHIRE. 57
ballad is given from an old black-letter copy, in
the Pepys collection, collated with another in the
British Museum (H. 263, fol.) It is there entitled
“The Lady Isabella's Tragedy, or the Stepmother's
Cruelty; being a relation of a lamentable and cruel
murther, committed on the body of the Lady
Isabella, the only daughter to a noble Duke,’
etc. To the tune of ‘The Lady's Fall.’ To
some copies are annexed eight more modern
stanzas, entitled, “The Duchess's and Cook’s La-
5 y?
mentation. The legend runs somewhat thus:–
“In times long past, Sir William de Radcliffe
possessed Radcliffe Tower. His first wife had
died in giving birth to her first child, a girl, who,
when she grew up, became remarkable for her
beauty. But, in the meantime, Sir William had
married again, and the stepmother, a haughty and
ambitious woman, cordially hated the only person
who divided her husband's affections with herself.
One day, when Ellen was about eighteen years
of age, Sir William went out hunting. This seemed
to the stepmother a good opportunity for the
execution of a nefarious design she had long
cherished. Calling her daughter to her, she said,
‘Fair daughter, go, I beseech thee, and tell the
master-cook that he must dress the white doe
58 BAZZA D.S & SO/WGS
for dinner.” The damsel, unconscious of any
harm, did as she was requested. When she had
delivered her message the cook said, ‘You are
the white doe my lady means; and it is you I
must kill.’ In vain did the unhappy victim
implore and intreat, and in vain did a scullion
boy offer himself in her place; the damsel was
killed, and made into a pie. In the meantime,
Sir William's chase had been long and animated;
but he was unable to drive away a foreboding
of ill that kept crossing his mind, and at last
he felt impelled to order his retinue to return.
At dinner he called for his daughter to carve
for him, as was her wont, but she appeared not.
On asking his wife where she was, she urged as
an excuse that she was gone into a nunnery,
but the scullion boy exclaimed, ‘’Tis false; cut
open that pie and there you will find your
daughter '' He then related the sad catastrophe,
and the cruel stepmother was condemned to be
burned at the stake, and the cook to stand in
boiling lead. The scullion boy was declared the
heir of all his lord's possessions.” — Percy's
A'eliques.
Dr. Whitaker, in his History of Whalley, says:—
OF ZAAVCASA/ZRE. 59
“To this place and family (Radcliffe of Radcliffe
Tower) are attached the tradition and ballad given
by Dr. Percy under the name of Isabella, but here
applied to a Lord Thomas and Fair Ellenor,
father and daughter, whose figures are supposed
to be graven on a slab in the church,' which the
common people—concluding, I suppose, from its
whiteness that it was meant as an emblem of
the innocence it is said to cover—have mutilated,
by breaking off small fragments as amulets for the
prevention or cure of disorders. Traditions, always
erroneous in their circumstances, are yet rarely
devoid of foundation; and though the pedigrees
of Radcliffe exhibit no failure of the family by
the premature death of an heiress; though the
* This slab Dr. Whitaker describes as “an alabaster
slab, north-west of the altar, in Radcliffe church, covering
the remains of James de Radcliffe, founder of the church.
There are, as usual, a male and female figure cumbent, the
man in armour; and some remains of children, in praying
attitudes, beneath. What can be recovered of the inscrip-
tion round the verge is as follows:—
Orate pr. aiā Jacobi de Radclyff . . . . quai . . . .
propicieret Deus.”
(That is, “Pray for the souls of James de Radcliffe, etc., on
whose souls God have mercy.”)
6O PALLA DS & SOAVGS
last Richard de Radcliffe, who had daughters only,”
certainly did not make ‘a scullion boy the heir
of all his land,’ when he settled it on Radcliffe,
Baron Fitzwalter; though the blood actually
pointed out on the kitchen floor, where this
Thyestaean banquet is said to have been prepared,
deserves no more regard than many of the stories
and appearances of the same kind; yet . . . . . .
we are not to discard as incredible the tradition
of a barbarous age, merely because it asserts the
sacrifice of a young and beautiful heiress to the
jealousy or the avarice of a stepmother. When
this is granted, the story of the pie, with all its
horrors, may safely be ascribed to the inventive
genius of a minstrel. On the whole, Radcliffe is
a place which, not only from its antiquity and
splendour, but from the great families which have
branched out from it, and the romantic tradition
attached to it, can scarcely be surveyed without
enthusiasm, or quitted without regret.” The bal-
lad is printed both by Roby and Baines; the
latter observing that the story is curious, and
deserves to be preserved in its original garb, as
well for its antiquity as for its poetic merit:—
* He died in I502, as per inquisition, aged 31, leaving
daughters, who are not noticed in the descent.
OF LA WC.A.S.H.I.R.E. 6I
FAIR ELLEN OF RADCLIFFE.
THERE was a lord of worthy fame,
And a hunting he would ride,
Attended by a noble traine
Of gentrye by his side.
And while he did in chase remaine
To see both sport and playe,
His lady went, as she did feigne,
Unto the church to praye.
This lord he had a daughter deare,
Whose beauty shone so bright,
She was beloved both far and neare
Of many a lord and knight.
Fair Ellen was this maiden call'd ;
A creature faire was she ;
She was her father's only joye,
As you shall after see.
Therefore her cruel stepmothèr
Did envye her so muche,
That day by day she sought her life,
Her malice it was suche.
62 BAZZA D.S & 3 SOAVGS
She bargain'd with the master-cook
To take her life awaye;
And, taking of her daughter's book,
She thus to her did saye :—
“Go home, sweet daughter, I thee praye,
Go hasten presentliè ;
And tell unto the master-cook
These wordes that I tell thee :
“And bid him dress to dinner streight
That faire and milk-white doe
That in the parke doth shine so bright,
There’s none so faire to showe.”
This ladye, fearing of no harme,
Obey'd her mother's will;
And presentlye she hasted home
Her pleasure to fulfill.
She streight into the kitchen went,
Her message for to tell;
And there she spied the master-cook,
Who did with malice swell.
“Nowe, master-cook, it must be soe,
Do that which I thee tell ;
You needs must dresse the milk-white doe,
Which you do knowe full well.”
OF LANCASHIRE. 63
Then streight his cruell, bloody hands
He on the ladye laid,
Who quivering and shaking stands,
While thus to her he sayd —
“Thou art the doe that I must dresse ;
See here, behold my knife;
For it is pointed, presentlye
To ridd thee of thy life.”
O then cried out the scullion-boye,
As loud as loud might bee,
“O, save her life, good master-cook,
And make your pyes of mee
“For pitye's sake do not destroye
My ladye with your knife;
You knowe shee is her father's joye;
For Christe's sake save her life.”
“I will not save her life,” he sayd,
“Nor make my pyes of thee;
Yet, if thou dost this deed bewraye,
Thy butcher I will bee.”
Now when his lord he did come home
For to sit downe and eat,
He callèd for his daughter deare
To come and carve his meat.
64 BAZZA D.S & 9 SOAVG.S'
“Nowe sit you downe,” his ladye sayd,
“O sit you downe to meat;
Into some nunnery she is gone :
Your daughter deare forget.”
Then solemnlye he made a vowe,
Before the companiè,
That he would neither eat nor drinke
Until he did her see.
O then bespake the scullion-boye,
With a loud voice so hye—
“If now you will your daughter see,
My lord, cut up that pye,
“Wherein her flesh is minced small,
And parchéd with the fire;
All caused by her stepmothèr,
Who did her death desire.
“And cursèd bee the master-cook,
O cursèd may he bee |
I proffer'd him my own heart's blood,
From death to set her free.”
Then all in blacke this lorde did mourne,
And, for his daughter's sake,
He judged her cruel stepmothèr
To bee burnt at a stake.
OF ZAAVCA SAINA’A. 65
Likewise he judg’d the master-cook
In boiling lead to stand;
And made the simple scullion-boye
The heire of all his land.

JAMES I. AND THE LOIN OF BEEF.
DURING the progress in Lancashire of James I.
he spent some days at Hoghton Tower, and at
dinner there on Sunday, 17th August 1617, his
majesty was so much pleased with a fine loin of
beef, that in a merry mood he knighted the joint,
which has ever since been called the “Sirloin.”
The following lines were written on the occasion
and sung in the neighbourhood ; and have been
preserved by Mr. P. A. Whittle, F.S.A.
THE SIR I, OIN.
Thee the god of plenty bore
To the king of Britain's shore,
His fav'rite dish. In James's time
Plain meat was not deem'd a crime.
The god, in guise of yeoman tall,
Pass'd along the crowded hall;
And with portly mien and bland,
Gave thee to the monarch's hand.

BALLADS & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE, 67
The well-known dish the King survey'd,
And then drew forth the shining blade;
He waved it thrice, with gentle tap,
Thrice impos'd the knightly slap.
And worthier thou a king's reward
Than half the titled bands, I ween,
At courtly masque or banquet seen.
Oft in winter at thy side
May thy loved plum-pudding bide
Near thee, by the parson wedded,
And with nuptial blessings bedded !
Preserv'd in Thomson's matchless lay,
Sir Loin, thou wilt ne'er decay.

º º: rººs ºººººº tº
º § sº º º:
Sºº S. .” º ". .*, * º
§ º : Ç.- . . . sº rº =3 §: ...; t
...".º.º.º.º.º. . . . . . . . . . .
... - Sº Cº. * ....:
º
WARRIKIN FAIR.
THERE is an old ballad still preserved—we be-
lieve by Mr. J. O. Halliwell (communicated to
the Editor by William Beamont, Esq. of War-
rington), describing, in the dialect of the place
and time (and it is perhaps the oldest ballad
extant in the Lancashire dialect), how Gilbert
Scott sold his mare Barry at Warrikin (i. e.,
Warrington) Fair. Its date is fixed by the name
“Rondle Shays” in the fifth verse; for the name
of Sir Thomas Butler's bailiff in the 2d Edward
VI. (1548) was Randle Shay or Shaw —
Now, au yo good gentlefoak, an yo won tarry,
I'll tell yo how Gilbert Scot soud his mare Barry;
He soud his mare Barry at Warrikin fair,
But when he'll be paid, he knaws no', I'll swear.
So when he coom whom, and toud his woife Grace,
Hoo stud up o' th' kippo, and Swat him o'er th’ face,






BALLADS & SOAVGS OF LANCASHIRE. 69
Hoo pick'd him o' th' hillock, and he ſawd wi a
whack,
That he thowt would welly a brocken his back.
“O woife,” quo' he, “if thou’ll lemme but rise,
I'll gi' thee, aw' th' leet, wench, imme that lies;”
“Thoudgit,” quo' hoo, “but wheer does he dwell!”
“By lakin,” quo' he, “that I conno' tell.”
“I tuck him for tº be some gentlemon's son,
For he spent tuppence on me, when we had dun;
An' he gen me a lunchin o' denty snig poy,
An' by th’ hond did he shak' me most lovingly.”
Then Grace hoo prompted hur neatly and fine,
An' to Warrikin went o' We'rsday betime;
An' theer, too, hoo staid for foive markit days,
Till th’ mon wi' th' mare were cum tº Rondle Shay’s.
An' as hoo wer' resting one day in hur rowm,
Hoo spoy'd th’ mon a-riding th' mare into th' town ;
Then bounce goos hur heart, an' hoo were sogloppen,
That out o' th' winder hoo'd like for to loppen.
Hoo stampt an' hoo stared, an’ down stairs hoo run,
Wi’ hur heart in hur hont, an' hur wint welly gone;
Her head-gear flew off, an' so did her snood;
Hoo stampt an' hoo stared, as if hoo'd bin woode.
7o BAZZA D.S & 9 SOAVGS’
To Rondle's hoo hied, an' hoo hov' up the latch,
Afore th’ mon had tied th’ mare gradely to th’ cratch.
“My gud mon,” quo' hoo, “Gilbert greets you right
merry,
And begs that yo'll send him th’ money for Berry.”
“Oh, money!” quo' he, “that connot I spare :”
“Be lakin,” quo' hoo, “then I'll ha' th' mare.”
Hoo poo'd an' hoo thrumper'd him sham' to be seen,
“Thou hangman,” quo' hoo, “I’ll poo' out thy e'en.
“I’ll mak’ thee a sompan, I’ll houd thee a groat;
I'll auther ha' th' money, or poo' out thy throat:”
So between 'em they made sich a wearisom' din,
That to mak’’em at peace, Rondle Shay did come in.
“Cum, fye, naunty Grace; cum, fye, an' ha' dun ;
You'st ha' th' mare, or th’ money, whether yo' won.”
So Grace geet th’ money, an' whomwards hoo's gone;
But hoo keeps it hursel', an’gies Gilbert Scot none.
A few words in this quaint ballad require a
glossary. It has evidently been preserved by
oral tradition for a time, and then incorrectly
dictated by, or taken down from, its singer. The
second line of the second verse should read thus—
“Hoo tuck up th' kippo, an’swat him o'er th' face;”
OF LANCASHIRE. 71
that is—She took up the big stick and struck him
over the face. The next line reads—She pushed
or pitched him upon the hillock, and he fell with
a whack, or great force. “Welly” is well-nigh,
nearly. The second line of the third verse, in
English, is—I will give thee all the light, wench,
in me that lies. “Udgit” may mean a soft fool,
or a clumsy fellow ; or it may be a form of hedge-
hog, “By lakin” is a corruption of “By’r lakin,”
itself a corruption of “By our lady,” a Roman
Catholic expletive often to be met with in old
plays. The third line of the fourth verse reads—
And he gave me a luncheon of dainty snig (i.e. eel)
pie. We should be inclined to read the first line -
of the fifth verse thus—Then Grace she prankèd
her (i.e. dressed, adorned herself) featly and fine.
The third and fourth lines of this verse mean that
she stayed at Warrington five market-days, till the
man with the mare came and put up at Randle
Shay’s. “Gloppen.” means startled, surprised;
“Loppen,” to have leaped. In the seventh verse
are two similar colloquialisms, “her heart in her
hand, and her wind (breath) well-nigh gone.”
“Snood” is a hair-fillet or band. “Woode” is mad,
wild. The two first lines of verse eight read—To
Randle's she went, and she heaved up the latch,
72 BAZZA DS & SOAVGS OF LANCASHIRE
before the man had tied the mare properly or com-
pletely to the hay-rack. “Poo'd” is pulled; “thrum-
per’d,” thumped, beat. “Sompan” is probably what
we still mean by sumph, a foolish, stupid fellow.
“I’ll hold thee a groat,”—I’ll bet thee a wager of a
groat. Shakspere has “to hold a penny,” in the
sense of to bet a trifle. In the last verse Randle
Shay accosts Grace Scott familiarly as “Naunty.”
or aunt, a common mode of salutation to elderly
WOIſlen. .

spºº cºee, sees sº sº ºc eye geoeye sºle, ºº, e, ºne as º ºr sºjºsº, sº secºs;
o -- ºr . . . . . . . . g-º-º: - ‘. . : G : * - Cº- (E) º, a . . º.º. * . . . - . . *
BRIGADIER MACINTOSH'S ESCAPE
AND “FAREWELL.”
BRIGADIER MACINTOSH, Laird of Borlum, was an old
and experienced officer, who had served in Holland
with King James's guards. He was kinsman to
the chief styled The Macintosh, the chief of the
powerful clan Cattan or Chattan, who joined the
Scottish rebels, to the number of more than 3oo well-
disciplined men. The Brigadier, who was a brave
yet cautious soldier, crossed the Firth of Forth
with great skill, in face of the enemy, and had
he been commander of the rebel forces, they would
have made a very much more sturdy resistance at
Preston. He despised the incompetency of
Forster, the so-called “General,” who yet was
placed over him, and would not follow his sugges-
tions or counsel. The Brigadier planned the
defence of Preston, and fought there at the head
of the Highland force. Being taken prisoner, he
was committed to Newgate, from which prison he,

74 PA/AA D.S & SONG.S'
with seven companions, effected his escape on the
night of the 4th May 1716; his trial being fixed
for the following day. The old Brigadier, then in
his 59th year, and his daring comrades, forced their
way out of Newgate, knocking down the keeper
and the turnkey, and disarming the sentinel.
Though a reward of 24, Iooo was offered for his
apprehension, he got clear away to the Continent.
Notwithstanding a bill of attainder and outlawry
was passed against him, which excluded him from
participating in the freedom promised by the gene-
ral Act of Indemnity, he ventured (probably after
the death of George I.) to return to his native
country; but he was seized and imprisoned for
life in Edinburgh Castle, where he died on the 6th
January 1743, aged about 85. He wrote several
pieces during his confinement: one entitled “Essays
on Ways and Means for inclosing, fallowing, and
planting Scotland, etc.,” published in 1729, “had
the effect of introducing a spirit of improvement
into the country, and led to the formation of a
society for improving agriculture.” On his escape
from Newgate, he became, if possible, more cele-
brated and beloved than ever among the Jacobites,
but especially among those of Lancashire. He
formed the subject of a very popular English
OF LANCASHIRE.
ballad, which (says Dr Hibbert-Ware, in his Memo.
rials of the Rebellion in 1715), from the scene being
laid in Proud Preston, and from one or two
peculiarities of expression, ought to be regarded as
a Lancashire ballad. It is printed (in the Memorials)
from a copy in the possession of Mr. David Laing
of Edinburgh, a broadside, in double columns,
without any date or place of printing —
BRIGADIER MACINTOSH's FAREWELL
TO THE HIGHLANDS.
(Zo an excellent new tune.)
Macintosh is a soldier brave,
And of his friends he took his leave;
Unto Northumberland he drew,
And march'd along with a jovial crew ; -
With a fa la la, ra da, ra da.
My Lord Derwentwater he did say,
Five hundred guineas he would lay
To fight the Militia, if they would stay;
But they all proved cowards, and ran away.
With a fala, etc.
The Earl of Mar did vow and swear,
If that Proud Preston he came near,
76 AA LLA D.S & SOAVG.S'
Before the Right should starve, and the Wrong
should stand,
He would drive them into some foreign land.
With a fa la, etc.
My Lord Derwentwater he did say,
When he mounted on his dapple gray,
“I wish I were at home with speed,
For I fear we're all betray'd, indeed.”
With a fala, etc.
“No, no,” says Forster,” “never fear,
The Brunswick army is not near ;
But if that they come, our valour we'll show,
And give them a fatal overthrow.”
With a fala, etc.
My Lord Derwentwater, when he found
That Forster had drawn his left wing round,
Said, “I wish I were with my dear wife,
For I fear that I will lose my life.”
With a fala, etc.
Macintosh he shook his head
To see his soldiers all lie dead;
“It was not for the loss of those,
But I fear we're taken by our foes.”
With a fala, etc.
OF AAAWCASA/ARAE. 77
Macintosh is a valiant soldier,
He carried a musket on his shoulder;
“Cock your pistols, draw your rapier;
D—n you, Forster, for you're a traitor "
With a fala, etc.
My Lord Derwentwater to Forster did say,
“Thou hast prov’d our ruin this very day:
Thou promisedst to stand our friend,
But thou hast prov’d a rogue in the end.”
With a fa la, etc.
My Lord Derwentwater to Lichfield did ride,
With coach and attendants by his side :
He swore if he died on the point of the sword,
He'd drink a good health to the man that he lov’d.
With a fala, etc.
“Thou, Forster, hast brought us from our own
home,
Leaving our estates for others to come.
Thou treacherous dog, thou hast us betray'd,
We are all ruin'd,” Lord Derwentwater said.
With a fa la, etc.
My Lord Derwentwater he is condemn'd,
And near unto his latter end :
78 BA L/LA D.S & SOAVG.S.
His poor lady she did cry,
“My dear Derwentwater, thou must die.”
With a fa la, etc.
My Lord Derwentwater he is dead,
And from his body they took his head;
But Macintosh and others are fled,
To fit his hat on another man's head.
With a fa la, etc
We have retained the title, as printed in the old
broadside ; but this ballad, would much more fitly
bear that of “A Lament for the Earl of Derwent-
water,” than “Brigadier Macintosh's Farewell to the
Highlands.” The Brigadier figures in but three or
four stanzas ; the Earl in seven or eight. .
* Amongst the various individuals of eminence who
entered into the conspiracy [of 1715], James Radcliffe, third
Earl of Derwentwater, took the lead. His estate was im-
mense; and as he gave employment to several hundred men
among the mines at Alstone Moor, it was expected that he
would bring a great number of men into the field. His
generous and charitable disposition had also rendered him
extremely popular among his tenants and dependants. His
lordship was a Roman Catholic, and allied by consanguinity
to the Chevalier St. George, his mother having been a natural
daughter of Charles II. This unfortunate nobleman, with
a number of friends and all his servants, well armed, joined
OF LA/VCA.S.H.A.R.E. 79
the rebels in Northumberland on Thursday 6th October
1715. His troop of horse was commanded by his brother,
Charles Radcliffe, Esq., and Captain John Shaftoe. At
General Wills's attack on Preston, the Earl of Derwentwater
is said to have headed a body of gentlemen volunteers, drawn
up on the north side of the churchyard, in protecting the
Church-gate barrier. The Earl and Brigadier Macintosh de-
livered themselves up as hostages to General Carpenter; and
on the 13th November the Earl and his men surrendered as
prisoners of war. His lordship, a wealthy English noble-
man, complained heavily of his having been villainously used
by the High Church party, especially in Lancashire, who
had engaged him and other Catholics to come in to their
support—promising that, on the forces entering the county,
they should be joined by a reinforcement of 20, Ooo men, a
promise which they utterly failed to keep—but who, he said,
had left them in the lurch. On the 25th November the
prisoners were sent under a strong guard from Wigan to
Warrington, and on the following day to London, guarded
by a strong detachment of Stanhope's dragoons; the Earl of
Derwentwater being allowed to travel in a carriage. On
arriving at London, he was committed to the Tower. On
trial, he pleaded guilty, and with Viscount Kenmure and the
Earl of Nithsdale received sentence of death. He prayed
the royal clemency, urging his youth and inexperience, by
which he had been led to engage in the rebellion rashly, and
without much previous concert or premeditation, on the
assurance that many of his relations and acquaintances would
be there. On the 24th February 1716 he was executed on
Tower Hill. In his last declaration he confessed himself a
80 BALLADS & SONGS OF LAMCASHIRE.
Roman Catholic, and avowed his loyalty to him whom he
styled “James III., his rightful sovereign.”—See Dr.
Hibbert-Ware's Zancashire Memorials of the Rebellion of
I 715.
* The Earl of Mar had been secretary of state to Queen
Anne under a Tory ministry. In August 1715 he called
together various chieftains of Highland clans at his seat of
Braemar, under pretence of holding a great deer-hunt; and
induced many noblemen and chiefs to rise in rebellion, with
their clans. He set up the rebel standard at Kirkmichael
for the Chevalier St. George, under the name and title of
Ring James VIII., King of Scotland. On the failure of the
Jacobite cause in Scotland, the Earl, with other leaders,
escaped to the continent.—Zbid.
* Thomas Forster of Etherston, Northumberland, and
knight of the shire for the county, was a High Church Tory;
and, as it was thought impolitic to offend Protestant pre-
judices by nominating either the Earl of Derwentwater or
Lord Widdrington (both Roman Catholics) to the leadership
of the Northumbrian rebels, this honour was assigned to Mr.
Forster, who was styled General. A more incompetent
leader was probably never known. His incapacity and
cowardice mainly contributed to the defeat of the rebels at
Preston. He was amongst the prisoners taken to London,
and was to have been tried on the 14th April 1716; but on
the Ioth he contrived, by a false key, to let himself out of
Newgate prison, at the same time locking in the governor.
A reward of A, 1 OOO was offered for the apprehension of
Forster, but he contrived to get over to Calais.--Abid.
“FAREWELL, MANCHESTER."
THERE was an old ballad with this title, written
about the time of the young Pretender being in
Manchester; but it seems to have been lost. Mr.
Chappell, in his “Popular Music of the Olden
Time” (ii. 683), states that it is “in all proba-
bility irrecoverably lost.” It is here noted, as the
notice may lead to a copy being found amongst
some of the descendants of old Jacobite families
in Lancashire.—AVotes and Queries.


LONG PRESTON PEGGY.
DURING the Rebellion of 1745 a buxom, hand-
some young woman of Long Preston, near Settle,
Yorkshire, seemed anxious to see Prince Charles
Edward Stuart (the “Young Pretender”) and his
army, and came to Preston (Lancashire) for that
purpose, a distance of 38 miles. Having gratified
her curiosity by seeing them, she at once returned
to her native village. A song was made, which
became famous in Ribblesdale, for every country
lad could sing it at that time tº g s ſº
Peggy lived to a great age, and used to carol this
song at all public meetings held at Rauthmell,
Cross Keys Inn, and other places about Clitheroe,
to the tune of Chevy Chace.—Whittle's Preston,
ii. 55.
This song, having apparently been handed down
by tradition only, cannot now be recovered entire.
How many verses it contained originally we know

BAZZADS & SONGS OF ZANCASHIRE. 83
not; but the two following are all that survive in
the memories of some old persons in and about
Long Preston, who were wont to sing the song
nearly half a century ago. Long Preston is a
township in the parish of that name, in the West
Riding of Yorkshire, four and a-half miles south by
east from Settle. Proud Preston is of course the
central town of Lancashire, celebrated for its Guild.
Long Preston Peg to Proud Preston went :
To see the Scotch Rebels it was her intent ;
A noble Scotch Lord, as he passèd by,
On this Yorkshire damsel did soon cast an eye.
He call'd to his servant, who on him did wait,
“Go down to yon girl who stands in the gate [i.e.,
road, street], -
That sings with a voice so soft and so sweet,
And in my name do her lovingly greet.”
* Another version of this verse is given in “New Tales
of the Borders and of the British Isles,” under the title of
“Old Yorkshire Ballad—Preston Peggy :”—
From Long Preston Peggy to proud Preston went,
To join the bold rebels it was her intent:
For in brave deeds of arms did she take much delight,
And therefore she went for the rebels to fight.
84 BAZZA D.S & SOAVG.S'
We have since received, in a private communi-
cation from Mr. Whittle, the following version,
which adds something to what has been before
printed :—
Long Preston Peggy
To Proud Preston went,
To see the bold Rebels
It was her intent.
Fal lal la
Braw were their Lochaber axes;
Their kilts were plaided so grand;
The fine ladies gave them good cheer;
They liv'd on the fat of the land.
Fallal la
Proud Preston went mad,
With frolic and fun;
And Long Preston Peggy
Became the big gun.
- Fal lal la
O dear Royal Charlie
To see thee we're fain;
So we wish thee success
In old England again.
Fal lal la
OF LA WCASHIRE, 85
May Long Preston Peggy
Live many a long year !
That Priest-town may see her,
And treat her with good cheer.
Fal lal la

JEMMY DAWSON.
A Ballad, by Shenstone.
THIS ballad records one of the many touching epi-
sodes connected with Lancashire's share in the
rebellion of 1745. When the Young Pretender
was in Manchester in the November of that year
recruiting was carried on with great vigour for
what was called the Manchester regiment; the
Prince's secretary, Lord George Murray, fixing his
quarters at the Dog Inn, Deansgate, for the pur-
pose of distributing French commissions to officers.
Among those who obtained a commission was Mr.
James Dawson, a gentleman of a respectable family
in Lancashire. He had received a liberal educa-
tion, and was of St. John's College, Cambridge;
which he is said to have quitted, fearing that he
should be expelled on account of some irregulari-
ties. But regarding this statement (wrote the late
Dr. Hibbert Ware) some doubt may be entertained,

BALLADS & SONGS OF LANCASFIIRE. 87
as well as upon the report that he joined the
Young Pretender while under the dread, after
quitting Cambridge, of not being again received by
his father. [A letter from the registrar of the
University of Cambridge, dated 24th October
I833, states that he matriculated as a pensioner on
the 17th December 1737 ; that he never took a
degree, “nor does he appear to have been sub-
jected to any punishment for irregularity in the
university courts held by the vice-chancellor.”
The Manchester regiment surrendered at Carlisle
on the 3 oth December 1745, and its commissioned
officers were conveyed in waggons, under a strong
guard, to London. In the streets of London,
through which they were led in a sort of triumph,
the greatest indignities were offered them. They
appear to have expected that, as they had served
under French commissions, they would be deemed
prisoners of war, and would be regularly exchanged.
Their fate, however, was far otherwise. Imprisoned
in the cells of Newgate, and afterwards in the New
Prison of Southwark, they passed from thence to
the gallows. Captain Dawson had been betrothed
to a young lady, who seems to have engaged all
his thoughts. He is said to have employed him
self in writing verses during his confinement on
88 BALLADS & SONGS
the subject of his unhappy fate. The trials com-
menced on the 16th July 1746, in the court-house
at St. Margaret's Hill, before the High Commis-
sioners appointed for that purpose. The trials
lasted three days, and all the prisoners arraigned
being found guilty, nine, including Captain Daw-
son, were ordered for execution on the 3 oth of
that month. The interval was passed by most of
the prisoners in preparing written declarations of
their motives and sentiments in joining the stand-
ard of their Prince. Captain Dawson declared
that, if he had ten thousand lives, he would devote
them all to his king and country sooner than
see right overpowered by oppression, or rebellion
prevailing. He declared that he died in the tenets
of the Church of England. He begged pardon of
all whom he had injured, and stated that Ensign
Maddock (who had turned evidence for the Crown)
had forsworn himself. He said he forgave the
partiality of the jury, the fetches of the counsel,
and the misguided zeal of the judge. He prayed
earnestly for his poor self; begging that the Deity
would excuse all his frailties, negligences, and
levities. The last leave which took place between
Captain Dawson and the lady to whom he was
betrothed is described by the poet in the ballad,
OF AAAWCA.S.H.I.A.A. 89
The nine officers of the Manchester regiment,
attended by a strong party of soldiers, were con-
veyed on three hurdles from the New Gaol of
Southwark to the gallows erected at Kennington.
A pile of faggots and a block were placed near
the gallows; and while the prisoners were in the
course of being removed from the sledges into a
cart drawn for that purpose under the “fatal tree,”
the faggots were set on fire. The guards formed
a circle round the place of execution. The pri-
soners, though unattended by any clergyman, spent
nearly an hour in their devotions. They then
severally delivered the declarations which they
had written to the sheriff, expressive of their con-
viction of the right and justice of the glorious
cause for which they died. Soon afterwards they
were turned off, all of them dying calm and com-
posed. At the end of five minutes after suspen-
sion had taken place, even before signs of life had
ceased, they were successively cut down and
stripped. Being laid on the block, the hangman
with a cleaver severed each head from the body,
and put it in a coffin ; then taking out the bowels
and heart, he threw them into the fire. When
the heart of the last was thrown into the fire, the
executioner cried out, “God save King George "
90 BAZZA D.S & 9 SOAVG.S'
and was answered by the spectators with a loud
shout. Among the numerous spectators of this
revolting scene was the plighted fair one of Cap-
tain James Dawson. Her fate is pathetically
commemorated by Shenstone. He wrote the fol-
lowing ballad shortly after the event, and it was
printed amongst his posthumous works, 2 vols.
8vo. The copy now given is from Percy's
Reliques, as taken from a MS. which contained
some small variations from that in the printed
works.]
Come listen to my mournful tale,
Ye tender hearts, and lovers dear;
Nor will you scorn to heave a sigh,
Nor will you blush to shed a tear.
And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid,
Do thou a pensive ear incline;
For thou canst weep at every woe,
And pity every plaint but mine.
Young Dawson was a gallant youth,
A brighter never trod the plain;
And well he lov'd one charming maid,
And dearly was he lov'd again.
OF JAA/CA.S.H.I.R.E. 9 I
One tender maid she lov’d him dear;
Of gentle blood the damsel came,
And faultless was her beauteous form,
And spotless was her virgin fame.
But curse on party's hateful strife,
That led the faithful youth astray,
The day the rebel clans appear'd :
O had he never seen that day !
Their colours and their sash he wore,
And in the fatal dress was found ;
And now he must that death endure,
Which gives the brave the keenest wound.
How pale was then his true love's cheek
When Jemmy's sentence reach'd her ear !
For never yet did Alpine snows
So pale, nor yet so chill appear.
With faltering voice she weeping said :
“O Dawson, monarch of my heart,
Think not thy death shall end our loves,
For thou and I will never part.
92 BALLA D.S & SOAVG.S.
“Yet might sweet mercy find a place,
And bring relief to Jemmy's woes,
O George, without a prayer for thee
My orisons should never close.
“The gracious prince that gives him life,
Would crown a never-dying flame,
And every tender babe I bore
Should learn to lisp the giver's name.
“But though, dear youth, thou should'st be dragg'd
To yonder ignominious tree,
Thou shalt not want a faithful friend
To share thy bitter fate with thee.”
O then her mourning coach was call’d,
The sledge mov’d slowly on before ;
Though borne in a triumphal car,
She had not lov’d her favourite more.
She follow'd him, prepared to view
The terrible behests of law;
And the last scene of Jemmy's woe
With calm and steadfast eye she saw.
OF LAAWCASHIRE, 93
Distorted was that blooming face
Which she had fondly lov’d so long;
And stified was that tuneful breath
Which in her praise had sweetly sung;
And sever'd was that beauteous neck
Round which her arms had fondly closed;
And mangled was that beauteous breast
On which her love-sick head reposed;
And ravish'd was that constant heart
She did to every heart prefer;
For though it could its king forget,
‘Twas true and loyal still to her.
Amid those unrelenting flames
She bore this constant heart to see ;
But when 'twas moulder'd into dust,
“Now, now,” she cried, “I’ll follow thee.
“My death, my death alone can show
The pure and lasting love I bore :
Accept, O Heaven, of woes like ours,
And let us, let us weep no more.”
94 AA L/LA D.S & 9 SOAVG.S.
The dismal scene was o'er and past,
The lover's mournful hearse retired ;
The maid drew back her languid head,
And, sighing forth his name, expired.
Though justice ever must prevail,
The tear my Kitty sheds is due ;
For seldom shall she hear a tale
So sad, so tender, and so true.
We learn from a communication from Mr. J.
F. Beever of Manchester to Barlow's Historica/
Collector (ii. 28), that Jemmy Dawson was the
eldest of the four children of William Dawson of
Manchester, gentleman (also styled doctor and
apothecary), by his first wife, Elizabeth, daughter
of Richard, son of John Allen of Redivales, an
ancestor of the Byroms of Kersal. He appears to
have been born in 1717, so that he was about 29
at his death. He was admitted to St. John's
College, Cambridge, 21st October 1737, and the
register describes him as the elder son of William
Dawson of Manchester, “Pharmacopola’.” He ma-
triculated on the 27th December following. His
only brother, William, was buried in the tomb of
OF WAAVCA SHIRE. 95
the Lady Barbara Fitzroy, in the Manchester
Collegiate Church. His eldest sister, Elizabeth,
married William Broome of Didsbury, gentleman ;
his youngest sister, Sarah, died unmarried. As to
the heroine of the ballad, it is stated in the
“Legends of Lancashire » (p. 159) that the name
of this unfortunate young person was Katherine
Norton, that she was “an orphan, and that her
parents had been of illustrious rank. She had
travelled with a maiden aunt, and as they were
residing for a few weeks in the vicinity of Cam-
bridge, she had met with young Dawson, and thus
commenced an ardent attachment between them.”
Mr. Robert Chambers, in his History of the Rebellion
of '45, states, that “when it was ascertained that
Captain Dawson was to suffer death, the incon-
solable young lady determined to witness the exe-
cution, and she accordingly followed the sledges
in a hackney coach, accompanied by a gentleman
nearly related to her, and one female friend. She
got near enough to see all the dreadful prepara-
tions without betraying any extravagant emotions;
she also succeeded in restraining her feelings
during the progress of the bloody tragedy; but
when all was over, and the shouts of the multitude
rang in her ears, she drew her head back again
96 BALLADS & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE.
into the coach, and crying, ‘My dear! I follow
thee, I follow thee Sweet Jesus, receive both
our souls together ſº fell upon the neck of her
companion, and expired in the very moment she
was speaking.” -

THE PRESTON PRISONERS
TO THE
LADIES ABOUT COURT AND TOWN.
By way of Comfort, from C. W. to W. Z.
THE following song, apparently a production of
one of the Jacobite prisoners in Preston gaol, after
the defeat of the rebels in 1715, is here copied
from a broadside originally “printed for J.
Roberts, in Warwick Lane, 1716; price two-
pence.” A copy of this broadside is preserved in
the collection of “Proclamations, Ballads," etc., in
32 volumes, presented by Mr. J. O. Halliwell,
F.R.S., etc., to Chetham's Library (vol. i. No. 13).
You fair ones, all at liberty,
We captive lovers greet;
Nor slight our tears and sighs, 'cause we
Can't lay 'em at your feet ;
H

98
BALLA D.S & SO/WGS
The fault's not ours, and you may guess
We can desire no greater bliss.
With a fa, la, la, etc.
What I though pack’d up in prisons base,
With bolts and bars restrain'd,
Think not our bodies love you less,
Or souls are more confined :
Each was to 'ts utmost power your slave,
Nor freedom took, but what you gave.
With a fa, la, etc.
Thus doubly captive, in this cause
Your prior title pleads,
This gaol's high treason 'gainst your laws,
And property invades:
Wherefore, since prisons are our due,
'Tis just we be lock'd up by you.
With a fa, la, etc.
From hence to those most blissful bowers
Lest we should miss our way,
Those beauties that display'd their powers
The last triumphant day,
As most expert in Cupid's wars,
Shall guide us on like grenadiers.
With a fa, la, etc.
OF ZAAVCA.S.H.I.R.A. 99
Thus we'll to the innocent and fair,
That shun indecent sights,
From purchas'd shouts and noisome air,
To whispers and delights:
Then all our pains shall pleasures prove,
And pinion'd arms be wings of love.
With a fa, la, etc.
But if our stubborn keepers still
Should chain us in our dens,
In disobedience to your will
And sovereign influence;
Spite of their shackles, bolts, and doors,
Our hearts are free, and they are yours.
With a fa, la, etc.
Meanwhile, within these walls immur'd,
Think not our spirit's lost;
The vilest ale our gaols afford
Is nectar, with a toast;
And if some wine creep in by stealth,
It has its relish from your health.
With a fa, la, etc.
Our tedious nights and loathsome days,
With your remembrance bless'd,
IOO BA LLA D.S & 3 JO/WGS OF LA/VCA.S.H.I.R.E.
At length may some compassion raise
Within your tender breasts :
No matter what our juries find,
We're happy still, if you prove kind.
With a fa, la, etc.
Nay, should we victims be design'd
By those that rule the state ;
Should mercy no admittance find
To hearts that should be great;
What dread can gaols or gibbets show
To men who've died so oft for you ?
With a fa, la, etc.
If fate must fix th' unworthy doom,
We'll leave you fresh supplies,
And from our ashes, in our room,
Some Phoenixes shall rise,
Whose vows will more successful prove
In happier days to win your love.
With a fa, la, la, etc.
-j-
;
TOWNLEY'S GHOST.
COLONEL FRANCIs Town LEY, a scion of one of
the oldest families in Lancashire, served abroad,
and in 1745 held a colonel's commission from the
king of France; and being recommended by that
king to the service of the Pretender, he joined
Charles Edward at Carlisle, of which city he was
for a time the governor. He took an active part
in the rebellion; was at Manchester, Preston, etc.;
and had the command of the Pretender’s “Man-
chester Regiment,” numbering only some 3oo rank
and file. He surrendered on the 3oth December
1745 to the Duke of Cumberland at Carlisle,
when the Manchester Regiment had been reduced
to only I 14, including officers; or, including non-
commissioned officers, drummers, and privates, to
93 men. The commissioned officers were con-
veyed from Carlisle to London in waggons, under
a strong guard, and were lodged in cells in New-
gate. The officers generally, who held French
commissions, expected to be treated as prisoners

I O2 - BALLA D.S & 9 SOAVGS
of war, and to be exchanged; and in the list
demanded by cartel from France the name of
Colonel Townley stood at the head. But it was
determined that the full vengeance of the law
should fall upon all belonging to the Manchester
Regiment. The trials commenced on the 16th
July 1746, in the court-house at St. Margaret's
Hill, London, before the High Commissioners
appointed for the purpose. Colonel Townley was
first arraigned. His counsel pleaded that he had
been sixteen years in the service of France, and
that during the time in which he took up arms for
the Pretender he held a commission from the
French king, and consequently was as much in
the service of France as any officer in the French
army. It was urged, therefore, that Townley had
as just a right to the cartel as any French officer
taken by the English during the war between the
two kingdoms. But the court was of opinion that
evidence to this effect would be against the pri-
soner; for that no man who was by birth a liege
subject of the king of England, was justifiable in
taking up arms and acting in the service of a
prince who was actually in war against the king of
England. Colonel Townley, who was firm and
undaunted through the trial, was found guilty;
OF LA WC.A.S.H.I.R.E. IO3
and when sentence of death was passed against
him, he was not in the least discomposed, nor did
his countenance undergo any change of colour.
On the 3 oth July the nine officers found guilty
were executed on gallows erected for the purpose
on Kennington Common—all dying calm and
composed. At the end of five minutes after sus-
pension had taken place, Colonel Townley, even
before signs of life had ceased, was cut down and
stripped. Being laid on the block, the hangman,
with a cleaver, severed his head and put it into
the coffin ; then taking out his bowels and heart,
he threw them into a fire of faggots, kindled for
the purpose. The remains were allowed to be
privately interred by his friends; and only one
head—that of Captain Fletcher—was exposed on
Temple Bar. Amongst the various Jacobite effu-
sions of the period to which these executions
gave rise, the following ought to have a place. It
relates to the supposed breach of faith committed
with the prisoners of war after the capitulation at
Carlisle, and the promise of William, Duke of
Cumberland, against whom the bitterest denuncia-
tions of the English and Scottish partisans of the
house of Stuart were launched, under his appella.
tion of “The Curse of Scotland.” The author of
IO4 AA LZA D.S & 3 J'O/WG.S'
the ballad is not known. It is copied from a
MS. in the handwriting of Mrs. Kenyon, wife of
the clergyman of that name resident a century
ago in Salford, and incumbent of Trinity Chapel.
TOWNLEY'S GHOST.
When Sol in shades of night was lost,
And all was fast asleep,
In glided Townley's murder'd ghost,
And stood at William's feet.
“Infernal wretch, away !” he cried,
“And view the mangled shade,
Who on thy perjur’d faith relied,
And basely was betray'd. -
“Embrued in bliss, embalm’d in ease,
Tho' now thou seem'st to lie,
My injur'd shade shall gall thine ease,
And make thee beg to die.
“Think on the hellish acts you've done,
The thousands you've betray'd :
Nero himself would blush to own
- The slaughter thou hast made.
OF ZAAVCASA/IRAE. - IO5
“Not infants' shrieks, nor parents' tears,
Could stop thy bloody hand ;
Nor even ravish'd virgins' tears
Appease thy dire command.
“But oh what pangs are set apart
In hell, thou'lt shortly see ;
Where even all the damn'd will start
To view a fiend like thee.”
With speed, affrighted, William rose,
All trembling, wan, and pale ;
And to his cruel sire he goes,
And tells the dreadful tale.
“Cheer up, my dear, my darling son,”
The bold usurper said;
“Never repent of what you've done,
Nor be at all dismay’d
“If we on Stuart's throne can dwell,
- And reign securely here,
The uncle Satan's king of hell,
And he'll protect us there !”
* William Augustus, Duke of Cumberland, was the
second son of George II. He was born 15th April 1721,
and died in 1765.
º:
ſ
ºść…}ºGs
§
THE THREE SISTERS.
Aal/ad.
THE following Lancashire ballad is contributed
to Notes and Queries (vi. Io 2)—whose Editor per-
mits us to reprint it—by a correspondent signing
“Seleucus,” who suspects it to be the oldest of
several versions. It is supposed to be sung by
the second sister —
There was a king of the north countree,
Bow down, bow down, bow down |
There was a king of the north countree,
And he had daughters one, two, three.
I'll be true to my love, and my love'll be
true to me.'
To the eldest he gave a beaver hat,
Bow down, bow down, bow down
* Probably the original form of this line was, “An [iſ]
my love’ll be true to me.”—ED.

BALLA DS & SOAVGS OF LAAVCASHIRE. Ioy
To the eldest he gave a beaver hat,
And the youngest she thought much of that.
I’ll be true to my love, and my love’ll be
true to me.
To the youngest he gave a gay gold chain,
Bow down, bow down, bow down
To the youngest he gave a gay gold chain,
And the eldest she thought much of the same.
I'll be true to my love, and my love'll be
true to ne.
These sisters were walking on the bryn,
Bow down, bow down, bow down |
These sisters were walking on the bryn,
And the eldest pushed the younger in.
I'll be true to my love, and my love'll be
true to me.
Oh, sister oh, sister oh, lend me your hand
Bow down, bow down, bow down |
Oh, sister oh, sister 1 oh, lend me your hand
And I will give you both houses and land.
I'll be true to my love, and my love'll be
true to me.
* Brink, bank of a stream.
Jo8 BA LLA D.S & SONGS
I'll neither give you my hand nor glove,
Bow down, bow down, bow down
I'll neither give you my hand nor glove
Unless you give me your [own] true love.
I'll be true to my love, and my love'll be
true to me.
Away she sank, away she Swam,
Bow down, bow down, bow down
Away she sank, away she swam,
Until she came to a miller's dam.
I'll be true to my love, and my love’ll be
true to me.
The miller and daughter stood at the door,
Bow down, bow down, bow down
The miller and daughter stood at the door,
And watched her floating down the shore.
I'll be true to my love, and my love'll be
true to me.
Oh, father oh, father I see a white swan,
Bow down, bow down, bow down
Oh, father 1 oh, father I see a white swan,
Or else it is a fair wo-man.
I'll be true to my love, and my love'll be
true to me.
OF ZAAVCA SHIRE. IO9
The miller he took up his long crook,
Bow down, bow down, bow down
The miller he took up his long crook,
And the maiden up from the stream he took.
I'll be true to my love, and my love’ll be
true to me, -
I'll give to thee this gay gold chain,
Bow down, bow down, bow down
I'll give to thee this gay gold chain,
If you'll take me back to my father again.
I’ll be true to my love, and my love’ll be
true to me.
The miller he took the gay gold chain,
Bow down, bow down, bow down
The miller he took the gay gold chain,
And he pushed her into the water again.
I'll be true to my love, and my love’ll be
true to me.
The miller was hang'd on his high gate,
Bow down, bow down, bow down
The miller was hang'd on his high gate,
For drowning our poor sister Kate.
I'll be true to my love, and my love’ll be
true to me.
I IO AA L/LA D.S & 2 SOAVGS
The cat's behind the buttery shelf,
Bow down, bow down, bow down
The cat's behind the buttery shelf;
If you want any more, you may sing it yourself.
I'll be true to my love, and [an] my love’ll
be true to me.
One of Mr. Halliwell's “Nursery Rhymes,”
beginning—
“John Cook had a little gray mare,” etc.,
Ends thus—
“The bridle and saddle were laid on the shelf,
He, haw, hum ;
If you want any more, you may sing it yourself,
He, haw, hum !”
Another version of this ballad is given by
“G. A. C.” (AVotes and Queries, v. 316) from me-
mory, in which the action seems to commence
with “the body of a fair ladye,” which “came
floating down the stream ;” stopping “hard by
a miller's mill,” when the miller took it out of the
water, “to make a melodye.” This form of the
OF LA AVCA SHIRE, I I I
ballad thus describes how the lady's body was
changed into a viol:—
And what did he do with her fair bodye
Fal the lal, the lal, laral loddy,
He made it a case for his melodye,
Fal, etc.
And what did he do with her legs so strong?
Fal, etc. -
He made them a stand for his violon,
Fal, etc.
And what did he do with her hair so fine !
Fal, etc.
He made of it strings for his violine,
Fal, etc.
And what did he do with her arms so long
Fal, etc.
He made of them bows for his violon,
Fal, etc.
And what did he do with her nose so thin 4
Fal, etc.
He made it a bridge for his violin,
Fal, etc.
I [2 BAZZA D.S & SO/WGS
And what did he do with her eyes so bright !
Fal, etc.
He made them spectacles to help his sight,
Fal, etc.
And what did he do with her pretty toes?
Fal, etc.
He made them a nosegay to put to his nose.
Fal, etc.
[Some couplets wanting]
Again, Dr. Rimbault gives another version of
the ballad, evidently earlier than that last cited,
and which he states to be the production of a
James Smith, D.D. (Oxford), born 1604, and died
1667 ; respecting whom Wood says “he was much
in esteem with the poetical wits of the time, par-
ticularly with Philip Massinger, who called him his
son.” We append this ballad (as printed from an
old broadside copy of 1656), omitting the burden
after the first verse :—
'.OF LA WCASH/RE. I [3
THE MILLER AND THE KING'S
DAUGHTER. .
By Dr. James Smith.
There were two sisters, they went playing,
With a hie downe, downe, a downe-a,
To see their father's ships come sailing in,
With a hy downe, downe, a downe-a.
And when they came unto the sea-brym,
The elder did push the younger in,
O sister, O sister, take me by the gownd,
And draw me upon the dry ground.
O sister, O sister, that may not be,
Till salt and oatmeal grow both on a tree.
Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam,
Until she came unto the mill-dam.
The miller ran hastily down the cliff,
And up he betook her withouten her life.
What did he do with her breast bone
He made him a violl to play thereupon.
I
I I4.
BAZZA D.S & SONGS’
What did he do with her fingers so small ?
He made him pegs to his violl withall,
What did he do with her nose-ridge |
Unto his violl he made him a bridge.
What did he do with her veins so blue ;
He made him strings to his violl thereto.
What did he do with her eyes so bright?
Upon his violl he played at first sight,
What did he do with her tongue so rough
Unto the violl it spake enough.
What did he do with her two shins .
Unto the violl they danced Moll Syms.
Then bespake the treble string,
O yonder is my father the king.
Then bespake the second string,
O yonder sits my mother the queen.
And then bespake the strings all three,
O yonder is my sister that drowned me.
OA' AAAWCASH/RE. 1 I 5
Now pay the miller for his pain,
And let him be gone in the devil's name.
Dr. Rimbault adds that the viol was the pre-
cursor of the violin ; but while the viol was the
instrument of the higher classes of society, the
“fiddle” served only for the amusement of the
lower. The viol was entirely out of use at the
beginning of the eighteenth century. Moll or
Mall Symms (mentioned in the 13th stanza) was
a celebrated dance tune of the sixteenth century.
The three versions of this ballad curiously illus-
trate each other. That said by “Seleucus” to be-
long to South Lancashire has the merit of telling
consistently a tragedy of sisterly envy and jealousy ;
but it lacks the quaint conceit of the transfor.
mation into a musical instrument. No apology
is needed for giving all three versions.

LAN CASHIRE MAY-SONGS.
ONE evening towards the close of April 1861,
I was surprised by a party of waitts who had
come into the garden (in the hamlet of Swinton
and township of Worsley), and who serenaded
the family in a song, the words of which I could
not make out from their singing. There were
four singers, accompanied by a flute and a
clarionet, and they together discoursed most
simple and rustic music. I could not at first
make out what was evidently a local custom of
Some standing, as it was not Easter, or Whit-
suntide, or May-day, or any of the old popular
festivals. My inquiries on the subject resulted
in my obtaining, from the dictation of an old
Mayer, the words of two songs, called by the
singers themselves “May Songs,” though the rule
is that they must be sung before May comes in.
My chief informant, an elderly man named Job
Knight, living in Swinton, tells me that he him-

BAZZA DS & SONGS OF LA WCASHIRE. 117
self “went out” a May-singing for about fourteen
years, though he has discontinued the practice
for some years. He says the time the Mayers
commence is usually about the middle of April,
though some parties start as early as the begin-
ning of that month. But the songs cease with
the evening of the 3 oth April. Job says he can
remember the custom for about thirty years, and
he never heard any other than the two songs
which follow. There are usually, he says, five
or six men, with a fiddle, and sometimes a flute
or clarionet. The songs are printed just as re-
cited by Job Knight; and when I ventured to
hint that one line (the 3d in 3d verse of song
II.) was too long, he sang it over, to show that
all the words were somehow brought into the
strain. The first song bears marks of some an-
tiquity; first in the double refrain, or 2d and 4th
lines in each stanza, which are poetically and
musically far superior to the others ; next in the
picture of manners conveyed by the worshipful
master of the house in his chain of gold, the
mistress with gold along her breast, etc. The
phrases, “house and harbour,” “riches and store,”
also point to earlier times. The last line of this
Song appears to convey its object, and to point
118 BALLA D.S & SOAVGS
to a simple superstition, that these songs were
to draw, or perhaps drive “these cold winters
away.” There are various lines in both songs
in which the sense seems to have been marred,
from the songs having been handed down by
oral tradition only ; but I have not ventured
to alter these in any way. The second song
seems more modern than the first. The refrain,
or 4th line of each stanza, is again the most
poetical and musical in the whole song.
OLD MAY SONG.—I.
All in this pleasant evening together come are we,
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and
gay :
We'll tell you of a blossom that buds on every
tree, - . . .
Drawing near to the merry month of May.
Rise up the master of this house, put on your
chain of gold, - -
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and
gay 3 -
We hope you're not offended, [with] your house
we make so bold, - -
Drawing near to the merry month of May.
OF LA WC.A.S.H.I.R.E. I [9
Rise up the mistress of this house, with gold along
[upon] your breast,
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay;
And if your body be asleep, I hope your soul's at
rest,
Drawing near to the merry month of May.
Rise up the children of this house, all in your rich
attire,
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay;
For every hair upon your head shines like the
silver wire, -
Drawing near to the merry month of May.
God bless this house and harbour, your riches and
your store,
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay;
“We hope the Lord will prosper you, both now and
evermore,
Drawing near to the merry month of May.
So now we're going to leave you in peace and
plenty here, -
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay;
We shall not sing you May again until another
year, - -
For to draw you these cold winters away.
I 20 BAZZA D.S & 3 SOAVGS
NEW MAY SONG.—II.
Ca//ed also “ The Basiers ; ” said to /haze been .
written by a Swinton man.
Come and listen awhile unto what we shall say
Concerning the season, the month we call May;
For the flowers they are springing, and the birds
they do sing,
And the basiers' are sweet in the morning of May.
* The basier is the name given in this part of Lancashire
to the auricula, which is usually in full bloom in April.
This name for it is not to be found in Gerarde's History
of Plants, or Culpeper's British Herbal, nor in the glos-
saries of Halliwell, Nares, etc. The auricula was intro-
duced into this country from Switzerland about the year
1567. Can its Lancashire name have any relation to
auricula,-7. d., little ear?— “F. C. H.,” in AVoter and
Queries (3d Series, ii. 3O5), after noticing the present Editor's
conjecture as to the derivation of the word basier, adds :
“It seems more probable that basier was originally bear's
ear, the usual name of the auricula in the eastern counties—
certainly a very coarse name for a very beautiful flower, but
founded, no doubt, upon the resemblance of the leaf to an
ear, which gave occasion to the botanical name of auricula.”
Another correspondent concurs as to this derivation, and
states that the common French name for the auricula is
oreilles d’ours.
OF ZAAWCASH/RE. I2 I
When the trees are in bloom and the meadows are
green, .
The sweet-smelling cowslips are plain to be seen,
The sweet ties of nature, which we plainly do say,
For the basiers are sweet in the morning of May.
All creatures are deemed, in their station below,
Such comforts of love on each other bestow:
Our flocks they're all folded, and young lambs
sweetly do play, -
And the basiers are sweet in the morning of May.
So now to conclude with much freedom and love,
The sweetest of blessings proceeds from above;
Let us join in our song, that right happy may we be,
For we’ll bless with contentment in the morning
of May.”
Both these songs have appeared, with musical
notation, in Messrs. Chambers's Book of Z)ays,
and are reprinted by their permission.
* This last line would read better thus—
“For we’re blest with content in the morning of May.”
I 22 BAZZA DS & 3 SONGS
STRETFORD AND NORTHEN MAY SONG.
MR. JoHN HIGSON of Droylsden, in an article
entitled “Stretford as we found it and heard of
it,” which appeared in the Ashton Reporter of June
23 and 30, 1860, writes—“We cannot refrain
from noticing the custom of singing ‘May carols’
under the chamber-windows of the drowsy villagers
on the eve of the 1st of May. Of course the poet
of the gang fits the song to suit each particular
case, extemporising lines addressed to the several
sons and daughters by name. Here is one version
of it. [We omit verses 1, 2, 3, 8, and 9, as almost
identical with some of those of the Old Swinton
May Song]:—
4.
Rise up ye little children, and stand all in a row,
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay;
We should have call'd you one by one, but your
names we do not know ; -
Drawing near to the merry month of May.
- - 5.
Rise up the little infant, the flower of the flock,
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay;
OF LANCA.S.H.I.R.E. I 23
The cradle that you do lay in, it stands upon a
rock;
Drawing near to the merry month of May.
6.
Rise up, the fair maid of this house, put on your
gay gold ring,
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay;
And bring to us a can of beer—the better we shall
- sing;
Drawing near to the merry month of May.
7.
Fair Flora in her prime, down by yon riverside,
Where the fields and the meadows they are green,
Where little birds are singing, sweet flowers they
are springing,
And summer springs so fresh, green, and gay,
Drawing near to the merry month of May.
Mr. Higson adds that the air is said to suit
the words and the occasion “to a T.” Though
some of the lines are a little too long and prosy,
and the 7th verse has both an additional line
and a different arrangement, the song is not devoid
of merit, and the tune “is made to come in.”
I 24 BAZZA D.S & 3 SONGS
In the 3d line of the 5th verse a simple pun
is perpetrated. In a private communication to
the present Editor, he writes, “I have met with
a young woman, who, when a girl, has assisted
to sing this May-song at Barnton in Cheshire. .
The carol also prevails about Northenden.”
There is yet another version, printed under the
title of “The Cheshire May-Song,” in Mr. J. O.
Halliwell's Palatine Anthology, p. 185, which
he states was “kindly communicated to him by
George Ormerod, Esq. of Sedbury Park, Glou-
cestershire.” We give the first verse, as showing
its similarity as well as its difference —
All on this pleasant evening together come are we,
For the Summer springs so fresh, green, and gay ;
To tell you of a blossom that hangs on every tree,
Drawing near to this morning of May.
O this is pleasant singing, sweet May-flower [it] is
Springing,
And Summer comes so fresh, green, and gay.
The 3d line of the 2d verse runs—
“And turn unto your loving wife, so comely to
behold.” -
OF LANCASHIRE. 125
The 3d line, 3d verse—
“And if your body's sleeping, we hope your soul
has rest.”
The next seven verses are provided to suit the
age, sex, and condition of members of the par-
ticular household addressed. We give these in
order to complete the various readings of this
curious May-song — •
- 4. -
Oh, rise up, Mr. A. B., all joys to you betide, etc.,
Your steed stands ready saddled, a-hunting for to
ride, etc. * *
5.
Your saddle is of silver, your bridle is of gold, etc.,
Your bride should ride beside you, so lovely to
behold, etc.
6.
Oh, rise up, Mr. C. D., and take your pen in
hand, etc., - * e -
For you're a learned scholar, as we do under-
stand, etc.
126 BAZZA D.S & s SONGS
7.
Oh, rise up, Mrs. E. F., all in your rich attire, etc.,
You are to have some noble lord, or else some
wealthy Squire, etc.
8,
Oh, rise up, all the little ones, the flower of all
your kin, etc.,
And blessed be the chamber their bodies lie
within, etc.
9.
Oh, rise up, the good housekeeper, all in her gown
of silk, etc., -
Oh, may she have a husband good, and twenty cows
to milk, etc.
I O.
But where are all those fair maids that used here to
dance 7 etc., gr
Oh, they are gone abroad from hence, to spend
their lives in France, etc.
The 11th and last verse is substantially the
same as in the Swinton and the Stretford ver-
sions. Mr. Halliwell adds that the verses he
prints are a selection from a series sent from
High Legh, in Cheshire, to Mr. Ormerod, by a
OF ZANCA,SHIRE, 127
lady resident there, in 1827. She mentioned
that “the series of stanzas is widely extended
to suit all classes of persons that may be re-
quired to be addressed, and the rural minstrels
occasionally improvise in a style corresponding
to what is here given.”

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SONGS OF THE MAYERS
THIS Mayers' song, says Hone in his Every
Day Book (i. 567), is a composition, or rather
a medley, of great antiquity, and I was therefore
very desirous to procure a copy of it. In accom-
plishing this, however, I experienced more difficulty
than I had anticipated ; but at length succeeded
in obtaining it from one of the Mayers. The fol-
lowing is a literal transcript of it —
THE MAYERS’ SONG.
Remember us poor Mayers all,
And thus do we begin
To lead our lives in righteousness,
Or else we die in sin.
We have been rambling all this night,
And almost all this day,
And now returnèd back again
We've brought you a branch of May.










OF LA WCASHIRE. I29
A branch of May we have brought you,
And at your door it stands;
It is but a sprout, but it's well budded out,
By the work of our Lord's hands.
The hedges and trees they are so green,
As green as any leek ;
Our heavenly Father he watered them
With his heavenly dew so sweet.
The heavenly gates are open wide,
Our paths are beaten plain,
And if a man be not too far gone,
He may return again.
The life of man is but a span,
He flourishes like a flower;
We are here to-day and gone to-morrow,
And we are dead in an hour.
The moon shines bright, and the stars give
a light,
A little before it is day :
So God bless you all, both great and small,
And send you a joyful May.
K
BA LLA D.S & SOAVGS
THE MAYERS’ CALL.
Come, lads, with your bills,
To the wood we'll away,
We'll gather the boughs,
And we’ll celebrate May.
We'll bring our load home,
As we’ve oft done before,
And leave a green bough
At each good master's
good neighbour's X door.
pretty maid’s
To-morrow, when work's done,
I hold it no wrong,
If we go round in ribands,
And sing them a song.
Come, lads, bring your bills,
To the wood we'll away,
We'll gather the boughs,
And we'll celebrate May.
OF ZAAVCA SAINA’A. I 3 I
MAY EVE SONG.
If we should wake you from your sleep,
Good people, listen now ;
Our yearly festival we keep,
And bring a May-thorn bough.
An emblem of the world it grows ;
The flowers its pleasures are ;
But many a thorn bespeaks its woes,
Its sorrow and its care.
Oh sleep you then, and take your rest,
And, when the day shall dawn,
May you awake in all things blest,
A May without a thorn. -
And when to-morrow we shall COme,
Oh treat us not with scorn ;
From out your bounty give us some—
Be May without a thorn.
May He who makes the May to blow,
On earth his riches shed,
Protect thee [you] against every woe,
Shower blessings on thy [your] head.
I 32 AA L/A D.S & SO/WGS
After “bringing home the May,” there is
another ditty —
MAYERS’ MAY-DAY SONG.
On the Mayers deign to smile,
Master, mistress, hear our Song ;
Listen but a little while,
We will not detain you long.
Life with us is in its spring,
We enjoy a blooming May,
Summer will its labour bring,
Winter has its pinching day.
Yet the blessing we would use
Wisely—it is reason's part—
Those who youth and health abuse
Fail not in the end to smart.
Mirth we love : the proverb says,
“Be ye merry, but be wise;”
We will walk in wisdom's ways—
There älone true pleasure lies.
A
OF V.A.AVCA SHA’E. I33
May, that now is in its bloom,
All so fragrant and so fair,
When autumn and when winter come,
Shall its useful berries bear.
We would taste your home-brew’d beer—
Give not, if we've had enough—
May it strengthen, may it cheer;
Waste not e'er the precious stuff.
We of money something crave,
For ourselves we ask no share ;
John and Jane the whole shall have,
They’re the last new-married pair.
May it comfort to them prove,
And a blessing bring to you ;
Blessings of connubial love
Light on all like morning dew.
So shall May, with blessings crown'd,
Welcomed be by old and young;
Often as the year comes round,
Shall the May-day song be sung.
134 BALLADS & SONGS OF JAAVCA.S.H.I.R.E.
Fare ye well, good people all,
Sweet to-night may be your rest;
Every blessing you befal,
Blessing others, you are blest.
sº-

WASSAIL SONG.
THE following Christmas song of Wassail is taken
from a little chap-book, printed at Manchester,
called “A Selection of Christmas Hymns,” and
there entitled “ Wessel Cup Hymn.” It is ob-
viously a corrupted version of a much older song,
but well deserves to be preserved as a song of the
season.—“Ambrose Merton,” in AVotes and Queries,
i. I 37.
Here we come a-wassailing
Among the leaves so green ;
Here we come a-wandering,
So fair to be seen.
Chorus-Love and joy come to yOu,
And to your wassail too,
And God send you a happy new year—new year,
And God send you a happy new year.
Our wassail cup is made of the rosemary tree,
So is your beer of the best barley.

136
BALLA D.S & 3 SOAVGS
We are not daily beggars
That beg from door to door,
But we are neighbours' children,
Whom you have seen before.
Call up the butler of this house;
Put on his golden ring ;
Let him bring us up a glass of beer,
And the better we shall sing.
We have got a little purse,
Made of stretching leather skin;
We want a little of your money,
To line it well within.
Bring us out a table,
And spread it with a cloth ;
Bring us out a mouldy cheese,
And some of your Christmas loaf.
God bless the master of this house,
Likewise the mistress too ;
And all the little children,
That round the table go.
Good master and good mistress,
While you’re sitting by the fire,
OF LAAWCA.S.H.I.R.E. I37
Pray think of us poor children,
Who are wand'ring in the mire.
Chorus.—Love and joy come to you,
And to your wassail too,
And God send you a happy new year—new year,
And God send you a happy new year.
Our wassail cup is made of the rosemary tree,
So is your beer of the best barley.

THE LIVERPOOL TRAGEDY :
Or, A PVarning to Disobedient Children and Cozef-
ous Parents; showing how one John Fuller left
/his father's house to go to sea against his will, and
was shipwrecked, but was preserved on a rock;
/low he was ſetched by the ship's boat, and put
as/hore at Bengal, where he married, how /le re-
turned home, when he, not informing his parents
70/to he was, they murdered him for the sake of
/*is gold; zºnith their fragical end."
PART I.
YOU tender parents that have children dear,
Be pleas'd to wait awhile, and you shall hear
A dismal accident befel of late,
Which ought to bear an everlasting date.
* This doggerel ballad was frequently issued both in
broadside and as a chap-book. It was popular so recently
as the beginning of the present century.

BAZZADS & SONGS OF LAWCASHIRE. 139
At famous Liverpool, in Lancashire,
One Mr. Robert Fuller liv'd, we hear ;
A grazier, who liv'd in a happy state,
He being not too poor, nor yet too great.
He had three daughters, charming beauties bright,
And but one son, which was his heart's delight;
His father doated on him, and in truth
He was a dutiful and sober youth.
He bound him 'prentice to one Mr. Brown,
A noted surgeon who liv'd in the town ;
With whom he stay’d the term of seven years,
And serv'd him faithfully, as it appears.
And afterwards sometime did with him dwell,
And as a servant pleas'd his master well ;
He got acquainted with a surgeon's mate,
Who was going a voyage up the Strait.
He did persuade him for to go to sea,
And said, in time he might promoted be ;
This so much wrought upon the young man's
mind,
That he to go with him seem’d much inclin'd.
He went and told his father his design,
That he would go to sea in a little time,
I4O BA LLA D.S & SOAVG.S'
“For I to the East Indies now will go ;
Therefore, dear father, do not say me No.”
To hear these words his father was surpris'd,
It soon fetch'd tears from his aged eyes;
“Can you, my son,” said he, “from me depart,
And leave me here behind with aching heart?
“Because I plac’d in you my chief delight,
Do you my tender care this way requite ;
You my consent to go shall never have ;
'Twill bring me down with sorrow to the grave.
“Go, wilful youth Perhaps the time may come
That you may wish you'd stay’d with me at home.’
But all these arguments would not prevail;
He was resolv'd the raging main to sail.
}
His mother cried, “I thought I had a son
Would be my comfort for the time to come.”
His sisters cried, “Dear brother, do not go,
And leave our father thus oppress'd with woe.”
His father said, “My son, let reason rule;
Take my advice, and do not play the fool.
What is the meaning of this sudden change
What makes you fancy at this time to range "
OF LANCASHIRE. I4 I
“Father all these persuasions are in vain ;
I am resolv'd to cross the raging main ;
Therefore, give me your blessing ere I go,
For I'll be gone, whether you will or no.”
His father cry'd, “Since you don't me regard,
God justly will your wickedness reward ;
God's heavy judgments will upon you come,
For being such a disobedient son.
“So you must go without what you now crave;
Mine nor God’s blessing you will never have.”
What courses now this stubborn youth doth steer,
You in the second part shall quickly hear.
PART II.
He went with speed unto the surgeon's mate,
And goes with him a voyage up the Strait ;
But with that voyage he was not content ;
Further to go his rambling mind was bent.
He came to London, and a ship he found,
Which lay at Deptford, for the Indies bound;
And straight he ordered his matters so
As surgeon's mate on board of her to go.
I 42 BA/L/LA D.S & SOAVG.S'
The very next day, as he set sail, we hear,
He sent a letter to his father dear ;
“Father,” he wrote, “I am alive and well,
“But when I shall return I cannot tell.
“I am on board a noble ship of fame,
For the Indies bound, the Prince by name ;
I will come home when my wild frolic's run ;
So this is all at present from your son.”
His aged father read the letter strait,
And said, “My son is gone in spite of fate;
All I can do, I'll act a father's part,
And beg of God to turn his stubborn heart.”
Where now his aged father we will leave,
And turn unto his son, which made him grieve,
Who then was sailing on the ocean wide ;
But mark what in short time did him betide.
As by the coast of Brazil they did sail,
Boreas began to blow a blustering gale;
The captain then, with deep concern, did say,
“If this storm holds, we shall be cast away.”
He scarce had spoke these words, when on a rock
The ship was drove with such a mighty shock;
OF LA MCA SHIRAE. I43
She stuck so fast she could not get away;
So they in sorrow were there forced to stay.
The captain cried, “Let’s beg of God that He
May from this shocking danger set us free ;
Next let all hands help to heave out the boat,
That o'er the rolling billows we may float.”
He gave command ; the thing as soon were done,
And overboard with speed the boat was flung;
Each one to save his life got in with speed,
Until the boat would hold no more indeed.
The boat it were so full it could not swim,
So some were forced to get out again ;
The surgeon's mate, the grazier's stubborn son,
As fortune ordered, chancéd to be one. -
He was obliged out of the boat to go
Back to the ship, his heart oppress'd with woe ;
Fifteen poor souls behind them they did leave,
Whose piercing cries a stony heart would grieve.
The captain cried, “My boat will hold no more ;
But if I should live to get on shore,
And you remain alive in this sad case,
I’ll surely come and fetch you from this place.”
J44 BAZAA D.S & SOAVG.S'
PART III.
The poor distressèd men in great despair,
Unto the Lord did make their humble pray'r,
Expecting ev'ry minute for to be
Sunk to the bottom of the swelling sea.
The grazier's son said, “Here I will not stay,
But through the foamy billows swim away.
I can swim well ; the sea does calm appear;
So fare you well my brother sailors dear.”
He overboard did jump before them all,
Which made the seamen after him to call :
“You silly man, you cannot get on shore,
We think that we shall never see you more.”
Thus he went along till almost night,
When his poor limbs were tired quite;
But fortune unto him did prove so kind,
That he by chance a mighty rock did find.
The rock was rugged, high, and very steep ;
He with much trouble up the side did creep,
And looking round, no land he could behold ;
He cry’d, “My sorrow now is manifold.
OA' LAAWCASA/IRE. 145
“My father's words into my mind does come,
That I do wish I'd stopt with him at home;
Also I find it true what he then said ;
But now my disobedience is repaid.
“He likewise told me if I e'er did slight
His careful counsel, God would me requite ;
He told me, though a blessing I did crave,
His nor God's blessing I should never have.”
PART IV.
He, thus lamenting, spent the tedious night
Until the morning it grew light;
Then went to search the rock all round,
Where for his food some shell-fish he found.
Satan, the first deceiver of mankind,
Did come to tempt this surgeon, as we find,
Thinking he would with any terms comply,
So took advantage of his misery.
While this young surgeon lookèd out to sea,
At a good distance from him seem'd to be
A something rowing to him in a boat,
Which o'er the rolling waves did swiftly float.
. L
146 AA LLA D.S & 3 SOAVGS’
This young man thought he'd been a friend, at
first, -
But next, he fear'd that it was something worse ;
“For if some wild man-eater it should be,
He first will kill, then next devour me.”
The young man were soon freed from fear,
As the devil, like some sailor, did appear;
And when he came unto the rock did say,
“Young man, how came you here this very day !”
The surgeon all his whole misfortunes told,
And while the truth to him he did unfold,
Three drops of blood down from his nose did
fall,
Which made him think him not a friend withal.
The devil then reply'd, “Young man, if you
Will be my servant, wholly, just and true,
And will resign yourself up to me,
I from this wretched place will set you free.”
The young man found who were with him then,
And cried, “You grand deceiver of us men,
O get you gone, your flattery forbear ;
Why do you try my soul for to ensnare :
OF ZAAVCASA/IRE. I47
“I now your whole temptations do despise,
Thou subtle fiend, thou father of all lies ;
I will resign myself to God alone;
Therefore, you vile deceiver, quick, begone !”
The devil then he strait did disappear,
And left the surgeon trembling with fear ;
Where now awhile we'll leave him to complain,
And turn unto his shipmates once again.
The captain in the boat got safe on shore,
And soon returnèd to the ship once more,
Where, out of fifteen, nine were left alive ;
The captain did their drooping hearts revive.
“Where is the rest of you ?” the captain cry’d.
“Alas ! with hunger they have dy'd.
All but the surgeon, who here would’nt stay,
And overboard did jump, and swam away.”
The captain cry’d, “I hope my dream is right,
That he were on a rock I dreamt last night;
So man the boat, for I the rock do know,
To save his life I thither now will go.
The boat was mann'd, and to the rock they came,
Where, to their joy, he did alive remain ;
I48 BAZZA D.S & 9 SOAVG.S'
They took him in, and then they row'd away,
Which prověd unto him a happy day.
PART V.
Their ship from off the rock they soon did get,
And took great pains in well repairing it;
Then for Bengal in India they did sail,
And soon arrivéd with a prosperous gale.
The surgeon soon got him there a wife,
And ten years liv'd a very happy life ;
Six children had, likewise a good estate,
But he was born to be unfortunate.
About his parents he was troubled so,
That back to England he would go ;
He left his wife and children, as 'tis told,
And with him took ten hundred pounds in gold.
Two of his sisters in that time were dead,
The other to a glazier marrièd;
He call'd there first, she was o'erjoy'd to see
That her own brother yet alive should be.
“How does my parents do?” then he did say,
She cry’d, “They're well, I saw them yesterday;
OF LAWCASHIRE, I49
But they're so covetous grown of late,
They scarce allow themselves food to eat.”
“This night I'll go and lodge there,” he did say:
“But they sha’nt know me till you come next day.”
Unto his father's house he then did gC,
Asking if he a lodging could have or no
They answer'd, “Yes,” and bid him strait come in.
But now, alas ! his sorrows did begin ;
His father said, “Young man, I tell you true,
I had a son who was very much like you.”
A purse of gold he to his mother gave,
And said, “To-morrow it of you I'll have.”
She cry’d, “You shall.” He then went to bed,
When the devil quickly put it in her head,
To murder her own son, the gold to have,
For that was all she in this world did crave;
& 4 Husband,” said she, “when he is dead and gone,
Then all the gold will surely be our own.”
To murder this young man they both did go,
But that he was their son they did not know ;
They found him fast asleep, void of all care,
Then quickly cut his throat from ear to ear.
I 50 BALLADS & SONGS’
His sister came, saying, “Father, dear,
Did there not come my brother here?”
He answer'd, “No.” She said, “There did
indeed.”
“Alas!” said they, “we’ve made our son to
bleed.”
He strait took up then the bloody knife,
And instant put a period to his life :
His wife she sat a little while below,
At last up stairs did to her husband go,
Where, to her grief, she saw him bleeding lie;
She cry'd, “Alas! I've caused you to die,
All by my means, for the sake of cursèd gold :
My child and husband dead I do behold !”
“Now I will make up the number three,
I cannot live such a sad sight to see.”
Saying, “World, farewell ! gold, from you I must
part;”
Then run the knife into her cruel heart.
The daughter, wond'ring at their long delay,
Did go up stairs to see what made them stay ;
When the dreadful sight she did behold,
Her dying mother all the story told.
OF LANCASHIRE, I5 I
Then did her daughter weep, then went away,
And raving mad, died on the next day.
So children all, from disobedience flee,
And parents, likewise, not too covetous be

STONYHURST BUCK-HUNT.
MR. T. T. WILKINSON of Burnley, in sending a
broadsheet of this ballad to AWotes and Queries (x.
503), states that the circumstances occurred about
a century ago;' that the name of the rhymer is
* From several circumstances, we imagine that this hunt
must have been in the time of Thomas Howard, described
by Sir Harris Nicolas in his Synopsis, etc., as I oth duke
of his family, but by Burke in his Peerage as 8th duke. He
was born 11th December 1683, and married Mary (another
account calls this lady Maria Winifreda Francisca, probably
Englished by Mary Winifred Frances), only daughter and
heir of Sir Nicholas Shireburne, or Sherburne, of Stony-
hurst. This marriage would account for the duke being at
the buck-hunt; and Sir Nicholas Shireburne, his father-in-
law, is named, with his daughter the duchess, in the last
stanza. The duke died on the 23d December 1732, with-
out issue, and was succeeded by his brother Edward, 9th
duke. This fixes the date of the hunt as earlier than
I)ecember I 732.

BAZLADS & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE. 153
now forgotten; but that the piece is still sung or
recited by old residents. It is entitled—
“An Interesting Account of Stonyhurst Buck-
hunt: detailing the particulars of the chace of
that day, which was honoured with the pre-
sence of the Duke of Norfolk, his noble
Talbot ; a C-
companied by Mr. Waters, Mr. Harris, and
brothers, and his kinsman
Mr. Penketh—all of whom were gentlemen
fond of the turf, and who stood at nought in
taking a leap when in “View Halloo !’”
To Whalley Moor therefore he ran,
To Clitheroe and Waddington;
Yet visits Mitton by the way,
Although he had no time to stay.
I ,
It was one morning, when the sun
Had gilded all our horizon,
And seem’d in haste to mount the sky,
Some new-known pleasures to espy;
* We have learned that the composer of this ballad was
a Mr. Cottam, a schoolmaster at Hurst Green ; and that he
also wrote a song beginning, “Hie away to Rossall Point.”
He is also said to have written “The Burnley Haymakers,”
in this volume, and a song called “The Five-Barred Gate.”
I 54
AA L/CA D.S & 9 SOAVGS
Whose early rays did me invite
To walk the downs for my delight.
2.
Serene and calm all did appear;
At last this music reach'd my ear—
The morning's call, one blast of horn;
While horses at the ground did spurn
In stately scorn, neighing so high,
As echoed in the lofty sky.
3.
'Twas my good hap to see his grace
As he on Twister mounted was ;
Norfolk's great duke, my muse does mean,
Whose skill in horsemanship was seen
So excellent, my fancy swore
Chiran ne'er taught Achilles more.
4.
With steady countenance he sat,
While the proud steed did bound and jet,
Seeming of nature to complain
That he was made of aught terrene,
Ready to mount the starry sphere,
And make a constellation there.
OF LA WC.A.S.H.I.R.E. I 55
5.
His noble brothers present were,
Attending on this worthy peer,
With many a gentleman of worth,
Greater than here I can set forth ;
I only should insert each name—
Learn you the rest from public fame.
6.
Sir Nicholas upon a black,
Was bravely mounted, show'd no lack;
Due commendation, could my muse
For his great merits words diffuse :
More gen’rous, just, or good than he,
No mortal ever yet could be.
7.
Joy in his countenance appear'd,
Wherewith his lovely guests he cheer'd ;
Brisk, airy, young, to all he'll show—
And may he evermore be so :
Great with the honourable sort,
Yet still the poor man's chief support.
8.
His kinsman, Talbot, there I saw,
A comely youth from top to toe ;
I 56
BA/CIA D.S & 9 SOAVG.S'
With many heroes of the same,
Yet he's the last of that brave name,
Equipp'd in a most gallant sort,
To be partaker of the sport.
9.
The next rare object I did spy
Was a brave horseman,—O, thought I,
That's Pegasus he's mounted on,
And he's the young Bellerophon ;
Their motions were so well combin'd,
You'd think they both had but one mind.
I O,
“That's Mr. Waters,” one did say,
“Mounted on gallant Northall gray.”
And many more I saw, whose names
In proper place I shall proclaim,
Who, to divert themselves, met there,
In hunting of a fallow deer.
II,
Good hounds they had as ever run,
Braver the sun ne'er shone upon ;
Towler and Tapster, hunters' pride—
Famous and Juno, proved and tried ;
OF LAAWCASHIRE. I57
The best that ever traced the grounds,
And glory of all British hounds.
I 2,
Carver, respected much by Knowls,
Wonder and Thunder none controls ;
Nor Ploughman—but they all excel,
'Tis hard to say which bears the bell;
Indifferent praises none should have,
They're all superlatively brave.
I 3.
Phillis and Comely, pray you mind,
Though in the verse they come behind ;
Their excellence in field is great,
Their skill in hunting most complete ;
Countess and Caesar bravely trace
The ground, with charming, snuffling face.
I4.
The buck, unlodged, began to fear
At sight of such a concourse there,
Thinking it was conspiracy
Against his life, and he must die;
Trusting to feet incontinent,
Which still betray'd him by the scent.
I58
BALLADS & SONGS
I 5.
The hounds uncoupled on the plain,
A mortal war straight did proclaim ;
With such melodious mouths they cry,
As make a perfect harmony;
Whilst Echo, answering in each grove,
Had quite forgot Narcissus' love.
I6.
The sound of horn alarm did give
Unto this silly fugitive;
Who was resolved in this chace
To give a prospect to his grace,
And to all worthy hunters there,
Of all the country far and near.
I 7.
To Whalley Moor he therefore run,
To Clitheroe and Waddington;
Yet visits Mitton by the way,
Although he had no time to stay ;
Then into Bowland Forest goes,
Still follow'd by his full-mouth'd foes.
I 8.
Robin the groom began to swear—
“This is the devil and no deer,”
OF ZAAWCA.S.H.IRAE. I59
So spurs up cheerful Favourite—
A mare that may a prince delight,
And coming close in, cried, “Zounds,
All Europe cannot show such hounds.”
I 9.
With tedious but well-pleasing steps,
Our trusty Abraham forward trips;
No river, mount, or dale can stay
His passage, but he finds a way
Through all obstructions, past compare
In hunting otter, buck, or hare.
2O.
Except old Mr. Harris, who
Did all that any man could do ;
And Mr. Penketh, who pursued
As if they both had youth renew’d,
Equal in skill and in desire,
Which made the hunters all admire.
2 I.
To Stony Moor this buck then fled,
Where we did think him almost dead ;
To Storth and Fowlscales then he hied,
And then to pleasant Hodder side;
16o BALLADS & SONGS
But had not Famous labour’d sore,
We'd hunted all the forest o'er.
22.
But when he’d cool’d his limbs awhile,
And gather'd vigour for new toil,
To Bosden stoutly he did run,
The seat of Captain Hodgkinson;
And there we saw—O fate to tell !
He by our hounds at Knowsmoor £ll
23.
To Stonyhurst, then, this gallant train,
As if in triumph turn’d again,
Mutually asking on the way
Which dog had best perform'd that day;-
But ’twas a riddle none could tell,
Because they’d all perform'd so well.
24.
Therefore, since ended is the chace,
Let healths go round unto his grace;
To his illustrious duchess, too,
The like devotion let us show ;
Next for Sir Nicholas let us pray,
And so conclude our hunting-day.
AN EXCELLENT NEW BALLAD,
ENTITLED
THE UNFORTUNATE LOVE OF A LAN CASHIRE GENTLE-
MAN, AND THE HARD FORTUNE OF A FAIR
YOUNG BRIDE.
Tune.—“Come, follow my love.”
OF this ballad there exists a broadside copy in
Mr. J. O. Halliwell's Collection of Proclamations,
etc., presented by him to Chetham's Library
(vol. iii. No. 9o). It is there printed in six
columns, with two rude woodcuts at the head, of
a lady and gentleman. It is also printed in that
gentleman's Palatine Anthology.
Look, ye faithful lovers,
On my unhappy state,
See my tears distilling,
But pourèd out too late,
And buy no foolish fancy
At too dear a rate.
Alack for my love I shall die.
M

j62
BALLA D.S & 9 SOAVGS’
My father he's a gentleman,
Well known, of high degree,
And tender of my welfare
Evermore was he.
He sought for reputation,
But all the worse for me.
Alack etc.
There was a proper maiden,
Of favour sweet and fair,
To whom in deep affection
I closely did repair :
In heart I dearly lov’d her;
Lo! thus began my care.
Alack etc.
Nothing wanting in her,
But this, the grief of all,
Of birth she was but lowly,
Of substance very small ;
A simple hired servant,
And subject to each call.
Alack etc.
Yet she was my pleasure,
My joy and heart's delight,
OF LA/VCASH/RE. I63
More rich than any treasure,
More precious in my sight !
At length to one another
Our promise we did plight.
Alack etc. -
And thus unto my father
The thing I did reveal,
Desiring of his favour,
Nothing I did conceal ;
But he my dear affection
Regarded ne'er a deal.
Alack etc.
Quoth he, Thou graceless fellow,
Thou art my only heir,
And for thy OWI). preferment
Hast thou no better care,
Than marry with a beggar,
That is both poor and bare :
Alack etc.
I charge thee, on my blessing,
Thou do her right refrain,
And that into her company
You never come again :
I64
BA LLA D.S & SOAVG.S'
That you should be so married
I take it in disdain.
Alack etc.
Is there so many gentlemen,
Of worship and degree,
That have most honest daughters,
Of beauty fair and free ;
And can none but a beggar's brat
Content and pleasure thee ?
Alack etc.
By Him that made all creatures—
This vow to thee I make—
If thou do not this beggar
Refuse and quite forsake,
From thee thy due inheritance
I wholly mean to take.
Alack etc.
These, his bitter speeches,
Did sore torment my mind,
Knowing well how greatly
He was to wrath inclin'd.
My heart was slain with sorrow ;
No comfort could I find.
Alack etc.
OF LAAVCASHIRE. 165
Then did I write a letter,
And send it to my dear,
Wherein my first affection
All changèd did appear ;
Which from her fair eyes forc’d
The pearly water clear.
Alack etc.
For grief, unto the messenger
One word she could not speak,
Those doleful heavy tidings
Her gentle heart did break;
Yet sought not by her speeches
On me her heart to wreak.
Alack etc.
This deed within my conscience
Tormented me full sore,
To think upon the promise
I made her long before ;
And for its true performance
How I most deeply swore.
Alack etc.
I could not be in quiet
Till I to her did go,
I 66
BA LLA D.S & SOMG.S'
Who for my sake remained
In sorrow, grief, and woe ;
And unto her in secret
My full intent to show.
Alack etc.
My sight rejoiced greatly
Her sad perplexed heart;
From both her eyes on sudden
The trickling tears did start,
And on each other's bosom
We breathéd forth our Smart.
Alack etc.
Unknown unto my father,
Or any friend beside,
Ourselves we closely married,
She was my only bride;
Yet still within her service
I caus'd her to abide.
Alack etc.
But never had two lovers
More sorrow, care, and grief;
No means, in our extremity,
We found for our relief;
OF LA AVCASA/NA’A. 167
And now what further happen'd
Here followeth in brief.
Alack etc.
Now all ye loyal lovers
Attend unto the rest,
See by my secret marriage
How sore I am opprest;
For why, my foul misfortune
Herein shall be exprest.
Alack etc.
My father came unto me
Upon a certain day,
And with a merry countenance,
These words to me did say :
My son, quoth he, come hither,
And mark what I shall say.
Alack etc.
Seeing you are disposed
To lead a wedded life,
I have, unto your credit,
Provided you a wife,
Where thou may’st live delightful
Without all care and strife.
Alack etc.
I68
BALLA DS & 9 SO/WGS
Master Senock's daughter,
Most beautiful and wise;
Three hundred pounds, her portion,
May well thy mind suffice;
And by her friends and kindred
Thou may'st to credit rise.
Alack etc.
This is, my son, undoubted,
A match for thee most meet;
She is a proper maiden,
Most delicate and sweet ;
Go woo her, then, and wed her,
I shall rejoice to see't.
Alack, l etc.
Her friends and I have talkèd,
And thereon have agreed,
Then be not thou abashēd,
But speedily proceed ;
Thou shalt be entertainéd,
And leave no doubt to speed.
Alack etc.
O pardon me, dear father,
With bashful looks, I said,
. OF LA WCASHIRE. 169
To enter into marriage,
I sorely am afraid ;
A single life is lovely;
Therein my mind is staid,
Alack etc.
When he had heard my speech,
His anger did arise;
He drove me from his presence;
My sight he did despise;
And straight to disinherit me
All means he did devise.
Alack etc.
When I perceiv'd myself
In that ill case to stand,
Most lewdly [i.e., wickedly] I consented
Unto his fond demand,
And married with the other,
And all to save my land.
Alack etc.
And at this hapless marriage
Great cost my friends did keep ;
They sparéd not their poultry,
Their oxen, nor their sheep.
17o
BALLADS & SONGS
Whilst joyfully they danc'd,
I did in corners weep.
Alack etc.
My conscience was tormented,
Which did my joys deprive;
Yet, for to hide my sorrow,
My thoughts did always strive ;
Quoth I, what shame 'twill be
To have two wives alive.
Alack etc.
O my sweet Margaret !
I did in sorrow say,
Thou know'st not, in thy service,
Of this my marriage-day :
Though here my body resteth,
With thee my heart doth stay !
Alack etc.
And in my meditations
Came in my lovely bride,
With chains and jewels trimmèd
And silken robes beside ;
Saying, Why doth my true love
So sadly here abide?
Alack etc.
OF LAWCASHIRE. I7 I
Then twenty loving kisses
She did on me bestow,
And forth abroad, a-walking,
This lovely maid did go;
Yea, arm-in-arm most friendly,
With him that was her foe.
Alack etc.
But when that I had brought her
Where nobody was near,
I embrac'd her most falsely,
With a most feignèd chear,
Then unto the heart I stabb’d
This maiden fair and clear.
Alack etc.
Myself, in woeful manner,
I wounded with a knife,
And laid myself down by her,
By this my married wife;
And said that thieves, to rob us,
Had wrought this deadly strife.
Alack etc.
Great wailing and great Sorrow
Was then upon each side ;
172 BALLADS & SONGS OF LA WCASHIRE.
In woeful sort they buried
This fair and comely bride,
And my dissimulation
Herein was quickly try’d.
Alack etc.
And for this cruel murder
To death thus I am brought;
For this my aged father
Did end his days in nought;
My Margaret, at these tidings,
Her own destruction wrought.
Alack etc.
Lo here the doleful peril
Blind fancy brought me in,
And mark what care and sorrow
Forc'd marriage it doth bring.
All men by me be warnèd,
And Lord forgive my sin.
Alack for my love I must die.
+
CARELESS CONTENT.
Written, in imitation of Sir Philip Sydney,
by John Byrom, M.A., F.R.S.
WE copy this charmingly quaint piece from the
Miscellaneous Poems (vol. i. p. 51) of this pleas-
ing poet, who was born at Manchester in 1691,
and died in September 1763, aged 7 I.
I am content, I do not care,
Wag as it will the world for me;
When fuss and fret was all my fare,
It got no ground as I did see :
So when away my caring went,
I counted cost, and was content.
With more of thanks, and less of thought,
I strive to make my matters meet ;
TO seek what ancient sages sought,
Physic and food in sour and sweet;
To take what passes in good part,
And keep the hiccups from my heart.

I74.
BAZZAIDS & 9 SOAVGS
With good and gentle humour'd hearts
I choose to chat where’er I come ;
Whate'er the subject be that starts ;
But if I get among the glum,'
I hold my tongue, to tell the troth,
And keep my breath to cool my broth.
For chance or change, of peace or pain,
For Fortune's favour, or her frown,
For lack or glut, for loss or gain,
I never dodge, nor up, nor down ;
But swing what way the ship shall swim,
Or tack about with equal trim.
I suit not where I shall not speed,
Nor trace the turn of ev'ry tide ;
If simple sense will not succeed,
I make no bustling, but abide :
For shining wealth, or scaring woe,
I force no friend, I fear no foe.
Of ups and downs, of ins and outs,
Of “they are wrong,” and “we are right,”
I shun the rancours and the routs,
And, wishing well to every wight,
* The sullen. a I follow or sue.
. OF LAAWCASHIRE, I75
Whatever turn the matter takes,
I deem it all but ducks and drakes.
With whom I feast I do not fawn,
Nor, if the folks should flout me, faint;
If wonted welcome be withdrawn,
I cook no kind of a complaint;
With none disposed to disagree,
But like them best, who best like me.
Not that I rate myself the rule
How all my betters should behave ;
But Fame shall find me no man's fool,
Nor to a set of men a slave ;
I love a friendship free and frank,
And hate to hang upon a hank.
Fond of a true and trusty-tie,
I never loose where’er I link;
Though if a business budges by,
I talk thereon just as I think :
My word, my work, my heart, my hand,
Still on a side together stand. -
If names or notions make a noise,
Whatever hap the question hath,
The point impartially I poise,
And read or write, but without wrath ;
176 BA/./A.D.S & 2 SOAVGS
For should I burn or break my brains,
Pray who will pay me for my pains
I love my neighbour as myself,
Myself like him, too, by his leave;
Nor to his pleasure, pow'r, or pelf,
Came I to crouch, as I conceive :
Dame Nature doubtless has design'd
A man—the monarch of his mind.
Now taste and try this temper, sirs,
Mood it, and brood it, in your breast :
Or if you ween, for worldly stirs,
That man does right to mar his rest ;
Let me be deft and debonair,"
I am content, I do not care.
It would be difficult to find in the whole range
of lyric literature a composition containing so many
singular qualities rarely found together. In char-
acter and sentiment it is at once vigorous and
laconic ; in style, antique and quaint, resembling
not only Sydney, but in parts Suckling, Withers,
and even George Herbert; in diction proverbial
and colloquial, yet never vulgar; while it is one of
* Dextrous, or ready; and gentle, or complaisant.
OF LA WC.A.S.H.I.R.E. 177
the most singularly constructed pieces of allitera-
tive poetry to be found in the English language.
Three distinct forms of this alliteration may be
seen in it, the first letters of words throughout
a line, or sometimes the like sounds of different
letters; this kind, mingled with syllabic allitera-
tion, as— -
“The point impartially I poise;”
And lastly, what may be called alliterative anti-
thesis, as in—
“Physic and food in sour and sweet;”
“For chance or change, of peace or pain;”
“For lack or glut, for loss or gain ;”
“For shining wealth, or scaring woe,” etc.

THE FROG AND THE CROW.
WE print this quaint song by permission from
Moſes and Queries, ii. 222, where it is given
by a correspondent (“T, I.”), who says he has
been familiar with it from childhood, but can
give no history of it, save that it is tolerably
well-known in Lancashire, and that the point
consists in giving a scream over the last “Oh ſ*
which invariably, if well done, elicits a start, even
in those who are familiar with the rhyme and
know what to expect. He adds that the moral
is obvious, and the diction too recent for the
song to have any great antiquity. He had never
seen it in print —
There was a jolly fat frog liv'd in the river
Swim, oh,
And there was a comely black crow liv'd on the
river brim, oh ;

BALLA D.S & SOAVGS OF LAAWCASHIRE, 179
“Come on shore, come on shore." said the crow
- to the frog, “ and then, oh.”
“No, you'll bite me; no, you'll bite me,”—said
the frog to the crow again, oh.
“But there is sweet music on yonder green
hill, oh,
And you shall be a dancer, a dancer in yellow,
All in yellow, all in yellow,”—said the crow to
the frog, “and then, oh.” -
“Sir, I thank you; Sir, I thank you,”—said the
frog to the crow again, oh.
“Farewell, ye little fishes, that are in the river
Swim, oh,
For I am going to be a dancer, a dancer in
yellow ;”
“Oh, beware " Oh, beware l’—said the fish to
the frog again, oh. -
“All in yellow, all in yellow,”—said the frog to
the fish,_“and then, oh.”
The frog he came a-swimming, a-swimming to
land, oh ; -
And the crow he came hopping, to lend him his
hand, oh ;
I8o BAZAA D.S & SOAVGS OF LAMCA.S.H.I.R.E.
“Sir, I thank you; Sir, I thank you,”—said the
frog to the crow, and then, oh.
“Sir, you're welcome; Sir, you're welcome,”—
said the crow to the frog again, oh.
“But where is the music on yonder green hill, oh!
And where are the dancers, the dancers in yellow?
All in yellow, all in yellow 7"—said the frog to
the crow, and then, oh,
“Sir, they're here ; Sir, they're here,” said the
crow to the frog, and eat him all up—Oh /
[Screamed.]

DICK O’ STANLEY GREEN.
THIS is a Lancashire version of a song of which
many varieties exist, not only in different parts
of England, but also in Ireland; the subject
being a raw, rustic lover, who offers himself to a
lady, is ridiculed, and, deeming her expectations
extravagant, retires in dudgeon. Amongst the
better known English songs on this text are
“Galloping Dreary Dun,” “Richard of Taunton
Dean,” “Harry's Courtship,” “The Clown's Court-
ship,” etc. Some of these are in the Somerset-
shire dialect. One is termed “The Wooing Song
of a Yeoman of Kent's Son.” There is a York-
shire ballad on this subject, and the Irish version
is entitled, “Dicky of Ballyvan.” The following
version is a great favourite in North Lancashire,
and was copied for this work by Mr. John Hill, of
Bleasdale —

I 82
PA/LW.A DS & 9 SOAVG.S'
I.
Last New-'Er's day, as I’ve heerd say,
I mounted on my dappled gray,
My buckskin breeches I put on,
My country clogs, to save my shoon,
Besides an owd hat to cover my yed,
'Twas all hung round wi' ribbins red.
2.
Straightway I went unto the hall,
Aloud for Mistress Jane did call;
Some trusty sarvant let me in,
Thet I my courtship might begin :
“Why, don't yaw ken me, Mistress Jane
I am poor Dick, fro’ Stanley Green.
3.
“My fayther's sent me here to woo,
And I con fancy noan but yaw ;
An yaw loove me, as I loove yaw,
What need ye mak so muckle to do?
4. -
“It’s I con plough, and I con sow,
An' I con reap, an' I con mow,
An' I con to the market go,
OF V.A.AWCA.SAIRE. 183
An' sell my daddy's corn and hay,
An' addle my sixpence ivvery day.”
5.
“Sixpence a day will never do :
I must wear silk an' satin too;
Sixpence a day wain't find us meat.”
“Ods-ducks I’’ says Dick, “I’ve a stack
o' wheat,
Besides an owd house, as stands close by ;
It'll all be mine when my feyther die.”
6.
“Your compliments, Dick, are so polite ;
They mak’ the company laugh outright.”
“If yaw have got noah moore to say,
I'll bid yaw good neet, an I'll away !”
. NOTES BY MR. JoHN HILL.—New-Ers is the pronun-
ciation of New Year's.-Dud, a contraction of the Anglo-
Saxon do-ed, is much used in Amounderness for did.—
Ods-ducks / is an old exclamation very common in dales
bordering on the Pennine chain of hills.--Thet is the local
pronunciation of that.—Yaw, for you, is not the yo or the
yeaw of Lancashire south of Ribble, but has the aze sound
(like the maw of Yorkshire), and is almost universal in York-
shire. At Lancaster assizes, some years ago, Mr. (now Lord)
184 BA LLA D.S & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE.
Brougham was cross-examining a witness, who in some
answer used the word humbug. “Humbug ſ” exclaimed
Mr. Brougham; “pray what do you mean by humbug?”
After some hesitation, the witness replied, “Why, iv ah
were to tell yaw as yaw’d a noice nooase, ah Sud be hum-
bugging yaw. Will'n that do for yaw 7” This broad re-
ference to the peculiar feature of Brougham's face drove all
in court into roars of laughter.

§§§
Sºº Bºz
º § gº cºº
º ºccº sº.
sº ZZºSSSSS
a WAZ
- ºff. Nº. 5
º •e sº f
BLAKELEY COURTSHIP.
THIS is another ballad upon the same favourite
theme, and cast in like mould. It is commu-
nicated by Mr. John Higson of Droylsden, who
states that it was sung by Mrs. R., an old lady,
years ago.
There was a young lad in Blakeley did dwell,
And he'd go a courting one night by hissel’;
To borrow th’ gray mare it was his intent,
He took Tinker's gray mare and a courting he
went,
To his own mind.
He rode and he rode till he came to the door,
And Nell came t'oppen it, as she'd done afore ;
“Come, geet off thy horse,” she to him did say,
“And put it i' th' stable, and give it some hay,
To thy own mind,”

I86 BALLA D.S & SONGS
And when he had done he came into th’ house,
And he was as weet as any drown't mouse;
She rought him th’owd cheer,' as he'd set in afore,
“Come sit thee down by me, love; let's talk it
o'er -
To our own mind.”
They talk'd it o'er until it was day,
He said, “Ah’ll goo whoam.” She said “Goo
thy way.”
He went into th’ stable, to fot his mare out,
“Now prithee, love, ta'e me to th’ bottom o' th'
fowt,”
To thy own mind.”
When Jamie were mounted, right off he did trig,
His face was as curlèd as any owd wig;
He’d a chin like a churn, and an owd queer hat,
And he look'd like a monkey a-top o' th' mare's
back.
**,
* Reached him the old chair.
* “Take me to the bottom or entrance of the fold,” or
cluster of houses round a yard or court—a common mode of
grouping cottages in country places in Lancashire—forming
the nucleus of many a hamlet or village, as population in-
Crea.SeS,
OF ZAAVCA SHIRE. 187
To courtship in Blakeley, we must say “a most
lame and impotent conclusion.” We can only
infer that Jamie rued, and his fair one did like-
wise.

THE LAN CASHIRE MILLER.
THIS song has much point, and is a favourite
about Chipping, nine miles from Clitheroe.
I.
Owd Jeremy Gigg, a miller was he,
In Lancashire born and bred ;
The mill was all he depended upon,
To earm him his daily bread.
Owd Jeremy he was growing owd,
His latter end it was near ;
He had three sons, and it puzzled him sore
Which of 'em should be his heir.
2.
Now he call'd to him his eldest son,
“An answer give to me:
What way would theaw tak thy bread to mak,
If my mill I left to thee?”

BALLADS & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE, 189
“Oh, if the mill were mine,” said he,
I’ll plainly tell to yeaw,
Out of every seck I'd tak a peck,
As yeaw've been used to do.”
3.
Now he call'd to him his second son,-
“An answer give to me:
What way would theaw tak thy bread to mak,
If the mill were given to thee ?”
“Oh, if the mill were mine,” said he,
As sure as my name's Roaf,
Instead of a peck out of every seck,
I'm sure I'd tak one-hawf.”
4.
Now he call'd to him his youngest son ;
His youngest son was Will ;
“On the answer theaw does give to me,
Depends who gets the mill.”
“Oh, if the mill were mine,” said he,
A living I would mek;
Instead o' one-hawf, I'd tek it all,
And swear 'em out o' th' seck.”
190 BA LLA DS & SOAVGS OF LAAVCA.S.H.IRE.
5.
Then owd Jeremy he rose up in bed,
To hear him talk so smart ;
Saying, “Well done, Will! theaw's won the mill;
Theav'rt the lad o' meh heart 1"
The other two look’d rayther blue,
And swore it wur too bad ;
But little Will, he won the mill,
And the Devil he got his dad.

CONTENTMENT :
THE HAPPY WORKMAN'S SONG.
By John Byrom, M.A., F.R.S.
WE copy this song, by permission, from the Mis-
cellaneous Poems, vol. i. p. 22 —
I am a poor workman, as rich as a Jew—
A strange sort of tale, but however 'tis true;
Come listen awhile, and I’ll prove it to you,
So as nobody can deny.
I am a poor workman, you'll easily grant,
Yet I’m rich as a Jew, for there's nothing I want;
I have meat, drink, and clothes, and am hearty
and cant,'
Which nobody can deny.
* Cheerful.

I92 AA L/LA D.S & 9 SOAVG.S'
I live in a cottage, and yonder it stands;
And while I can work with these two honest
hands,
I’m as happy as they that have houses and lands,
Which nobody can deny.
I keep to my workmanship all the day long,
I sing and I whistle, and this is my song—
“Thank God, who has made me so lusty and
strong,” - -
Which nobody can deny.
I never am greedy of delicate fare :
If God give me enough, though 'tis ever so bare,
The more is His love, and the less is my care,
Which nobody can deny.
My clothes on a working-day looken” but lean,
But when I can dress me, on Sundays I mean,
Though cheap, they are warm ; though coarse,
they are clean, -
Which nobody can deny.
* The Lancashire plural of look.
OF LAAWCASHIRE. 193
Folk cry out, “Hard times,” but I never regard,
For I ne'er did, nor will, set my heart upo' th'
ward;” * *
So 'tis all one to me, bin" they easy or hard,
Which nobody will deny.
I envy not them that have thousands of pounds,
That sport o'er the country with horses and x
hounds;
There's nought but contentment can keep within
bounds,
Which nobody can deny.
I ne'er lose my time o'er a pipe or a pot,
Nor cower in a nook, like a sluggardly sot ;
But I buy what is wanting with what I have got,
Which nobody can deny.
And if I have more than I want for to spend,
I help a poor neighbour or diligent friend;
He that gives to the poor, to the Lord he doth
lend,
Which nobody can deny.
* Upon the world. * Another Lancashire plural, be.
O
*
:
.
.
:
;
ſº
;
;
194 BALLADS & SONGS OF LAWCASHIRE,
I grudge not the gentlefolk dressen so fine ;
At their gold and their silver I never repine ;
But I wish all their guts were as hearty as mine,
Which nobody can deny.
With quarrels o' th' country, and matters of state,
With Tories and Whigs I ne'er puzzle my pate;
There are some that I love, but none that I hate,
Which nobody can deny.
What though my condition be ever so coarse,
I strive to embrace it for better or worse,
And my heart, I thank God, is as light as my
purse,
Which nobody can deny.
Whatever, in short, my condition may be,
'Tis God that appoints it, as far as I see,
And I’m sure I can never do better than He,
Which nobody can deny.

SIR GUALTER.
A Tradition of Morthen Boat-Aouse.
IN the Phoenix, a Manchester literary journal, in
1828, the following legendary ballad appeared,
and purported to have been preserved by “one
Maister Lovelle;” its writer being really William
Rowlinson, a young Manchester poet, who, in
his love for poesy in an antique garb, and in
other respects, resembled poor Chatterton. Row-
linson was drowned, whilst bathing in the Thames,
in June 1829. As the old Orthography in which
it was written does not improve the ballad, we
print it in modern dress. At Northen, near
Manchester, there was, till very recently, an
ancient ferry across the river Mersey from Lan-
cashire to Cheshire, called “Northen Boat;” the
village of Northen, or Northenden, being in the
latter county —

196 BA LLA D.S & 3 SOAVGS
“Now ferry me o'er, thou good boatmān
I prithee, ferry me o'er
That I may see my lady to-night,
Or I never may see her more.”
“The winds blow high, and the stream runs strong,
And I dare not ferry thee o'er ;
Thou canst not see thy lady to night,
If thou never dost see her more.”
“I will see her to-night if my life be spared,
For I've heard the death-owl's scream ;
Who has heard it once may not hear it twice,
She must hear my awful dream.”
“My boat is moor'd, and I will not cross ;
Sir Knight, thou may'st away;
Or rest thee to-night till the morning's light, —
We will o'er at break of day.”
“Here's gold in store, and thou shalt have more,
To venture across with me ; ºn
If we die ere we reach the other bank,
A mass shall be said for thee.”
The boat is unmoor'd, and they both leap in, -
And steer for the other side ;
Now swim thou swiftly, thou fearless boat,
Against the rushing tide.
OF ZAAVCA.S.H.A.RAE. I97
Now, now for thy life, thou boatman, push,
For the stream runs swifter on ;
Another boat's length, with all thy strength,
And the bank ye have safely won.
'Tis past, 'tis past, they have reach'd the side,
And they both leap on the bank : -
'Tis well ! 'tis well with an eddying whirl
That boat hath swiftly sank.
Sir Gualter hath given the boatman gold,
Thence hastes to the trysting-tree;
What a rueful sight for a gallant knight
Was there for him to see :
The Lady Isabel blacken'd and scorch'd
By the lightning blast of heaven;
And that stately tree, where they oft had met,
Was leafless, and blasted, and riven
He kneel'd him down o'er that lifeless form ;
And the death-owl o'er him flew,
And it scream'd as it pass'd on the rushing
blast ; - -
Then his fate Sir Gualter knew.
198 BALLADs & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE,
Then he gather'd that form within his arms, I
And rush'd to the river's side ;
Then plunged from the bank, and both of them
sank
In the darkly rolling tide.
There is a tradition in the neighbourhood that
the spirits of the knight and the lady are still
occasionally to be seen at midnight, especially
in storms, beneath the aged yew, as if still bent
on keeping their tryst,-love stronger than death
itself -

WARRINGTON ALE.
THE following song, by a deceased author, we
believe, has never before been printed. It is a
favourite in Warrington, especially with those by
whom the beverage it celebrates is preferred.
Your doctors may boast of their lotions,
And ladies may talk of their tea;
But I envy them none of their potions :
A glass of good stingo for me.
The doctor may sneer if he pleases,
But my recipe never will fail;
For the physic that cures all diseases
Is a bumper of Warrington ale.
D'ye mind me, I once was a sailor,
And in different countries I've been ;
If I lie, may I go for a tailor,
But a thousand fine sights I have seen.

200 BALLADS & SONGS OF LAWCASHIRE;
I've been cramm'd with good things like a
wallet, -
And I've guzzled more drink than a whale;
But the very best stuff to my palate
Is a glass of your Warrington ale.
When my trade was upon the salt ocean,
Why, there I got plenty of grog,
And I liked it, because I’d a notion
It set one's good spirits agog.
But since upon land I've been steering,
Experience has alter'd my tale;
For nothing on earth is so cheering
As a bumper of Warrington ale.
Into France I have oftentimes follow'd,
And once took a trip into Spain;
And all kinds of liquor I've swallow'd,
From spring-water up to champagne.
But the richest of wines, to my thinking,
Compared with good stingo is stale; -
For there's nothing in life that's worth
drinking, º
Like a bumper of Warrington ale.
§: Nº £
º
* .
DROYLSDEN WAKES SONG.
IN Mr. Higson's History of Droylsden is the fol-
lowing account, under the title of “Threedy-
Wheel :”—
“A singular Wakes custom was introduced into
Droylsden, about 1814, from Woodhouses (near
Failsworth), where it had been prevalent for more
than the third of a century. Chambers, in his
Edinburgh Journal of November 19, 1824, gives
it a notice, as does also Bell, under the title of
“The Greenside Wakes Song,” in his annotated
edition of the English poets. The ceremonial
issued from Greenside (a hamlet in Droylsden),
and consisted of two male equestrians grotesquely
habited. One, John, son of Robert Hulme of
Greenside, personified a man ; the other, James,
son of Aaron Etchells of Edge Lane, a woman.
They were engaged with spinning-wheels, spin-
ning flax in the olden style, and conducting a

202 BALLAPS & SONGS
rustic dialogue in limping verse, and gathering
contributions from spectators. Latterly, a cart
was substituted for a saddle, as being a safer
position in case they grew tipsy. Both Bell and
Chambers translate the rhyme into “gradely
English,” and render threedy wheel, “tread the
wheel;” but it is evidently thread the wheel, as
will be seen by a perusal of the original idio-
matic and more spirited version :-
HE.
It's Dreighlsdin wakes, un' wey're comin' to teawn,
To tell yo o' somethin' o' greet reneawn;
Un’ if this owd jade ull lem'mi begin,
Aw'l show yo heaw hard un how fast au con spin.
Chorus.—So it's threedywheel, threedywheel,
- dan, don, dill, doe.
SHE.
Theaw brags o' thisel'; bur aw dunno' think it's
true, i
For aw will uphowd the, thy faurts arn’t a few ;
For when theaw hast done, un' spun very hard,
O' this aw’m weel sure, thi work is ill marr'd.
Chorus.--So it's threedywheel, etc.
*
OF LANCASHIRE. 2O3
- HE,
Theaw saucy owd jade, theaw'dst best howd thitung,
Or else aw'st be thumpin' thiere it be lung;
Un’ iv'ot aw do, theaw'rt sure for to rué,
For aw con ha'monny O' one as good as you.
Chorus.--So it's threedywheel, etc.
SHE.
What is it to me whoe yo con have
Aw shanno’ be lung ere aw'm laid i' my grave;
Un’ when ot aw’m deod, un' have done what aw
COn,
Yo may foind one ot'll spin os hard os aw've done.
Chorus.--So it's threedywheel, etc.
HE.
Com, com, mi dear woife, aw’ll not ha’ the rue,
Un’ this aw will tell yo, un'aw'll tell yo true,
Neaw iv yo’ll forgie me for what aw have said,
Aw'll do my endavur to pleosyo instead.
Chorus.--So it's threedywheel, etc.
- SHE.
Aw'm glad for to yeor’ot yo win me forgive,
Un’ aw will do by yo os lung os aw live ;
So let us unite, un' live free fro’ o' sin,
Un’ then we shall have nowt to think at but spin.
Chorus.--So it's threedywheel, etc.
2O4 BAZZA DS & SONGS
BOTH,
So now let's conclude, and here undeth eawr Sung,
Aw hope it has pleost this numerous thrung;
Bur iv it 'os mist, yo need’nt to fear,
We'll do eawr endāvour to pleos yo next year.
Chorus.--So it's threedywheel, threedy wheel,
dan, don, dill, doe.
Mr. Higson informs us that this queer dia-
logue song, which is sung to a somewhat plaintive
tune, has been collected from various persons,
and collated with the version of one of the actors
and singers, an elderly man, who has often been
dressed as the female, and taken that part in
the dialogue or duet. On one occasion her hus-
band got so tipsy that he fell off his horse in
the yard of Cinderland Hall, and she had to ex-
temporise and instruct another to take his part.
They each bore a small spinning-wheel before
them, which was turned lustily during the chorus,
which may have been originally “speed the wheel.”
Amongst the variations or interpolations some-
times heard is one that seems to indicate hemp
or flax spinning at an early period —
OF ZAAVCASA/IRE. 2O5
“The tow that aw spin is five shilling a peawnd,
Un that yo mun kneaw by mi wheel going
reawnd,
So it's threedywheel,” etc.
One brags to the other—
“Aw con o'er-spin thee, by th’ mass;”
And the rejoinder seems to be— t
“ Aw con o'er-sing thee, by th’ mass.” -
Another piece of abuse is—
“Theaw cankert owd besom, aw conno' endure
Ony lunger a temper loike thoine is, aw’m sure.”
Altogether, the ballad, as it reaches us, seems
but the débris of an ancient dialogue-song, in which
man and wife quarrel over the domestic manu-
facture of linen yarn.

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RADCLIFFE OTTER-HUNT.
THE scenes of the following ballad are laid in
the Irwell and its banks, from Prestwich to Clifton
and Radcliffe. The hunt probably took place in
the last century; for it is long since an otter was
seen in the Irwell, though the Editor remembers
two being captured about 1849 in the Bollin,
near Bowdon. The ballad is printed from a MS.
copy sent to the Editor by Mr. John Higson of
Droylsden. The otter tells his own story —
I am a bold otter, as you shall hear,
I've rambled the country all round ;
I valued no dogs far or near,
In the water, nor yet on the ground.
I valued no dogs, far or near,
But I roved through the country so wide,
Till I came to a river so clear,
That did Clifton and Prestwich divide."
* The Irwell forms the boundary between these townships.













BALLADS & SONGS OF LAWCASHIRE. 207
As through the wild country I rambled,
I liv'd at extravagant rate ; -
On eels, chubs, and gudgeons I feasted 5
The fishermen all did me hate.
Yet still up the rivers I went,
Where the fishes my stomach did cheer,
Till a challenge from Radcliffe” they sent me,
They quickly would stop my career.
Next morning those dogs did assemble;
Jack Allen,” he swore I must die;
It made me full sorely to tremble,
To hear those stout hounds in full cry.
It was near Agecroft Bridge ‘ I oft went,
Where with me they'd had many a round;
So closely they stuck to the scent,
That they forced me to take to fresh ground.
Jack Allen, the darling of hunters,
And Ploughman, the glory of hounds;
You may search all the country over,
Their equals are not to be found.
* Radcliffe is on the bank of the Irwell, and a bridge
there spans the river.
* The huntsman.
* The bridge near Kersal Moor, Higher Broughton.
208 BALLA D.S & SONGS
Although I my country did leave,
It was sorely against my own will ;
They pursued me with courage so brave,
That they provëd a match for my skill.
Again through the country I rambled;
To the Earl of Wilton’s ‘ I came,
Where I made bold his fish-pond to enter,
And there I found plenty of game.
But the Earl being now at his hall,
He swore that my life they must end ;
So straight for Tom Thorpe" he did call,
And for Squire Lomas' hounds they did send.
Then the dogs and the huntsmen arrivéd,
Thinking my poor life for to end;
But to gain my old ground I contrivéd,
Where I could myself better defend.
It was near Master Douglas's mill,
Where they swam me three hours or more ;
And yet I did baffle their skill,
Till at length they were forced to give o’er.
* Heaton Park, in Prestwich. -
* Then keeper to the Earl, and ancestor of the present
keeper.
OF LA NCASHIRE. 2O9
At length by misfortune I ventured
Again up the river to steer,
When into a tunnel I entered,
Not thinking my death was so near.
But those dogs from old Radcliffe they came,
And into my hold did me cry;
The hunters they all did the same,
And they swore they would take me or die.
'Twas on the next morning so early
They forcéd me from my retreat ;
Then into the river I dived,
Thinking all their sharp schemes to defeat.
But those dogs they did soon force me out,
Because that my strength it did fail;
Tom Damport,' that tailor so stout,
He quickly laid hold of my tail.
Then into a bag they did put me,
And up on their backs did me fling ;
And because that in safety they'd got me,
They made all the valleys to ring.
" The Lancashire and Cheshire pronunciation of Daven-
port.
P
2 IO BAZZA D.S & SOAVGS
Then right for old Radcliffe did steer,
And soon at Bob Hampson's did call;
And hundreds of people were there,
To drink and rejoice at my fall.
The same afternoon they contrived
With me more diversion to have ;
Put me into a pit, where I divéd,
Just like a stout otter so brave.
And yet I remainëd so stout,
Though they swam me for three hours or more,
The dogs they could not force me out,
Till with stones they did pelt me full sore.
Thus forcing me out of the water,
Because that my strength it did fail;
And then in a few moments after
Jack Ogden" laid hold of my tail.
And so now they had got me secure,
They right to the “Anchor” did steer;
But my lot was too hard to endure,
And my death was approaching too near.
* Another well-known man in his day, three of whose
nephews now live at Gravel Hole, Gorton.
OF LA/VCASA/IRE. 2 II
Next morning to Whitefield" they took me,
To swim as before I had done ;
When out of the bag they did put me,
Alas! my poor life it was gone.
And so now this old otter you've killed,
You may go to Bob Hampson's and sing ;
Drink a health to all true-hearted hunters,
Success to our country and king.
* Whitefield is a hamlet in the township of Pilkington,
parish of Prestwich, six miles N.N.W. of Manchester.
{

JONE O' GRINFILTS RAMBLE.
The Original Song.
IN Bell's Songs and Ballads of the English Peasantry,
one of the various versions of this song is printed,
and it is there stated to be a production of the
18th century. But Samuel Bamford, in his Walks,
etc. (p. 169), observes that the celebrated song of
Jone o' Grinfilt, beginning,
“Sed Jone to his wife on a whot summer's day,”
of which, perhaps, more copies were sold among
the rural population of Lancashire than of any
other song known, has been generally ascribed to
the pen of James Butterworth, the author of a
poem called “Rochervale,” and other productions
of creditable literary merit. The writer of this
[Bamford] long held the common opinion as to
the origin of Jone. The song took amazingly. It
was war time; volunteering was all the go then ;

BALLADS & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE, 213
and he remembers standing at the bottom of
Miller Street, in Manchester, with a cockade in
his hat, and viewing with surprise the almost rage
with which the very indifferent verses were pur-
chased by a crowd that stood around a little old-
fashioned fellow, with a withered leg, who, leaning
on a crutch, with a countenance full of quaint
humour, and a speech of the perfect dialect of the
county, sang the song, and collected the halfpence
as quickly as he could distribute it. Some years
ago the writer fell in with this same personage at
Ashton-under-Lyne, and took the opportunity for
acquiring further information respecting the origin
of a song once so much in vogue. He accordingly
invited the minstrel to a little rest and chat at a
neighbouring tavern, where, over a pipe and a pot
or two of ale, he learned all he wished to know on
the subject, which he noted down in short-hand as
the narrator gave it. It was a cold and rainy day
in winter; the door was accordingly shut, the fire
stirred up to a warm glow. The cripple sat bask-
ing before the fire, with his lame leg thrown across
his crutch, his other foot on the fender, when,
after putting a quid of tobacco into his mouth,
and taking a Swig of the ale, he went on gaily
with his narrative for some minutes, until, glancing
2 I 4. BA LLA D.S & SOAVG.S.
towards the paper, and seeing uncouth figures
multiplying upon it, he sprang on his one foot,
and, with a look of astonishment not unmixed
with concern, he exclaimed, “Heigh heigh
theer, I say ! Wot mack o' letters art 'o settin
deawn . Theer, I say ! Wot dust 'o ko [call]
thoose lett-ters? Dust 'o think 'at nobody knows
wot theaw’rt dooin'? Busithe [but see thee], I’d
ha’ the to know 'at I know wot theaw’rt doin' az
well az theaw duz thisel. Theaw pretends to rule
th’ plannits, dust 'o'; Busithe I con rule um as
weel az theaw con, an’ that I’ll let-te know, iv
theaw awses [attempts] to put ony o' thi tricks o'
me.” A hearty laugh, a brief explanation, and,
more than both, a kindly invitation to the drink
and tobacco, soon brought the guest to his seat
again, and to his wonted jovial humour. He then
said there were thirteen “Jones o' Grinfilt” pro-
duced within a short time; but the original one—
that above mentioned—was composed by Joseph
Lees, a weaver residing at Glodwick, near Old-
ham, and himself—Joseph Coupe—who, at the
time of its composition, was a barber, tooth-drawer,
blood-letter, warper, spinner, carder, twiner, stubber,
and rhymester, residing at Oldham. He said they
were both in a terrible predicament, without drink,
OF LA WCASHIRE, 2 I 5
or money to procure any, after having been drink-
ing all night. They had been at Manchester to
see the play, and were returning to Oldham the
day following; when, in order to raise the wind,
they agreed to compose a song, to be sung at
certain public-houses on the road, where they sup-
posed it would be likely to take, and procure them
what they wanted, the means for prolonging their
dissipation. A storm came on, and they sheltered
under a hedge, and the first verse of the song was
composed by him [Coupe) in that situation. Lees
composed the next verse; and they continued
composing verse and verse until the song was
finished as afterwards printed. But it took them
three days to complete it. They then “put it i'
th’ press;” and he said, “We met ha' bin worth
mony a hunthert peawnd, iv widdin ha’ sense to
ta' care o' th' brass.”—Mr. John Higson states
that formerly an Oldham man used to come every
year to Gorton wakes, in order to sing this song,
which he did in turn at the three public-houses
then existing in the village. He was known, not
only there but in all the villages round, as “Owd
Jone o' Grinfilt,” from his being a regular visitor
at their annual wakes, and singing this favourite
ballad. The Jacobins issued a polite parody of
216 BALLA D.S & SONGS
this song, which never became popular, and is
supposed to be almost wholly forgotten. In it
some paviours on the road point out Jone to one
another, saying— -
“Sithee that's mon as con nouther walk nor ride.”
Jone hears them and detects them —
“But aw fin' by their jeers, un' comical sneers,
Y } 1
They'rne akin to th’owd makker o' stays,
JONE O' GRINFILT.
Says Jone to his woife on a whot summer's day,
“Aw'm resolvt i Grinfilt no lunger to stay ;
For aw’ll goo to Owdham os fast os aw can,
So fare thee weel Grinfilt, an’ fare thee weel Nan;
For a sodger aw’ll be, an’ brave Owdham
aw’ll see,
An' aw’ll ha'e a battle wi' th' French.”
“Dear Jone,” said eawr Nan, un' hoo bitterly
cried, - a
“Wilt be one o' th' foote, or theaw meons for 't'
ride 1"
' Tom Paine was a staymaker.
OF LANCASHIRE, 217
“Ods eawns ! wench, aw’ll ride oather ass or a
- mule,
Ere aw’ll keawer i Grinfilt os black os th' dule,
Booath clemmin', un' starvin', un’ never a
fardin',
It 'ud welly drive ony mon mad.”
“Ay, Jone, sin' we coom i Grinfilt for t' dwell,
Wey'n had mony a bare meal, aw con vara weel
tell.”
“Bare meal, ecod ay, that aw vara weel know,
There's bin two days this wick 'ot wey'n had nowt
at o' :
Aw'm vara near sided, afore aw'll abide it,
Aw'll feight oather Spanish or French.
Then says my Noant Marget, “Ah Jone, theaw’rt
so whot, &
Aw'd ne'er go to Owdham, boh i' Englond aw’d
- stop.” -
* “Clemming” is hungering or famishing. The editor of
Songs of the Peasantry says that turning the termination ing
into ink is one of the most striking peculiarities of the Lan-
cashire dialect. On the other hand, Samuel Bamford says
it is not Lancashire at all, but Cheshire.
2 I 8 BA LLA D.S & SOAVGS
“It matters nowt, Madge, for to Owdham aw’ll
goO,
Aw'st ne'er clem to deedth, boh sumbry [some-
body] shall know :
Furst Frenchmon aw find, aw’ll tell him meh
mind, -
Un’ if he'll naw feight, he shall run.”
Then deawn th' broo aw coom, for weh livent at
top,
Aw thowt aw’d raich Owdham ere ever aw stop;
Ecod! heav they staret when aw getten to th’
Mumps, -
Meh owd hat i' my hont, un' meh clogs full o'
stumps;
Boh aw soon towd'um, aw’re gooin' to Owdham,
Un’ aw'd ha’e a battle wi' th' French.
Aw kept eendway thro' th' lone, un’ to Owdham
aw went,
Aw ax'd a recruit if they'd made up their keawnt
“Nowe, nowe, honest lad” (for he tawked like
a king),
“Goo wi' meh thro' th' street, un’ thee aw will
bring
OF LANCASHIRE, 2 I 9
Wheere, if theaw'rt willin', theaw may ha'e a
shillin’.” -
Ecod l aw thowt this wur rare news.
He browt meh to th’ pleck, where they measurn
their height,
Un’ if they bin height, there's nowt said abeawt
weight ;
Aw ratched meh un’ stretch'd meh, un’ never did
flinch : -
Says th’ mon, “Aw believe theaw'rt meh lad to an
inch.” -
Aw thowt this’ll do ; aw'st ha'e guineas enoo'.
Ecod Owdham, brave Owdham for me.
So fare thee weel, Grinfilt, a soger aw’m made :
Aw getten new shoon, un' a rare cockade ;
Aw'll feight for Owd Englond os hard os aw con,
Oather French, Dutch, or Spanish, to me it's o'
One ; -
Aw'll mak' 'em to stare, like a new-started hare,
Un’ aw’ll tell 'em fro’ Owdham aw coom.
In several copies in print and MS. the song
ends here ; but in others several stanzas are added,
of which the following will serve as a sample –
22O BALLA/DS & SONGS
When aw went for a soger, aw ment for to ride,
Soa they brought meh a tit, un' aw gat on at
wrang side,
Aw geet at wrang side, boh aw soon tumbled o'er ;
Meh officer said aw should niver ride more.
Aw thowt, that's quite reet, aw con goo o' meh
feet -
As fur as aw wish for to goo.
Soa they browt meh a gun, and caw'd lift an’ reet,
Theaw mun howd up thy yed, and keep slippin'
thy feet; -
Oh ! they wheelt me abeawt till aw leant to one
side, - - .
An meh officer said aw could noather walk nor
ride.
Peace is proclaimed, and John goes home
again :- -
Soa neaw aw’m at whoam, an' th' loom's set agate,
Ween plenty o' praties an' dumplins to ate;
And now peeace is made, th' weyvers may laugh
At Billy's brown loaf, made o' bran an' o' chaff.
etC. etc.
The song had many imitations, as already
noticed. The following are specimens —
OF LA WCASA///&E. 22 I
JONE O' GRINFILT'S RETURN.
Aw'm Jone o' Marget's, fro’ Grinfilt aw went,
To conquer th’ Frenchmen aw were fully bent;
Ot Owdham aw’’ listud, un went to the wars,
Aw feort noather dangers, nur battles, nur Scars ;
To conquer or die, aw resolv'd fur to try,
Un’ humble the proide o' th' French.
Wi’ my kit on my back, aw fro" Owdham did go :
Aw thowt if aw fun' 'em, aw’d soon ler 'em know
That Jone eawt o' Grinfilt no quarter would give,
Boh would feight fur Owd Englond os lung as he
lived. -
Oather French, Dutch, or Spanish, aw think aw
Con manage,
Aw think aw’m the lad 'ot can crack.
Aw met an owd freend as aw’re gooin' up th’ lone,
He stopt me, un said, “Wheere neaw, honest
* Jone?”
“Mon, aw'm gooin' a feightin' o' th' French.”
“Bur theaw mun goo whoam,
For aich body says 'ot they darno' coom.”
Ecod aw’ll uphowd 'em 'ot sumbry's towd 'em,
That aw’re upo' th' road fur to feight.
222 BAZZA D.S & 9 SOAVGS
“Heawever,” said Dick, “theaw had better go see,
Un if theaw conno' mon 'em, be sure send fur
me.”
“O Dick, never mind me, aw’ll do whot aw con;
Remember my love to booath Marget and Nan ;
Un’ tell 'em naw fret, some money aw’ll get,
Un aw’ll coom to Grinfilt again.”
When aw was hardly begun o' my trade,
My officers towd me 'ot peeoce wur made.
“If there be no feightin', whoam lemmi goo,
Un’ if they'll no’ be quiet, be sure t' let me know.
If to Grinfilt yoan coom, yo'll foind me a-whoam,
Next dur to Noant Marget's aw live.” -
As aw’re gooin' up th' broo’, fur we livent o't top,
Aw said aw'd raich Grinfilt 'fore ever aw’d stop,
The're such peepin' un’ whisp'rin' as aw wenten
by th’ Mumps,
“That's Jone, 'ot went up wi' his clogs full o'
Stumps, - -
Wi’ his cap and his fither, he looks very cliver,
Noant Marget 'ull wonder whoa's coom.”
When aw geet into Grinfilt eawr Nan were a-whoam,
Hoo run into Noant Marget's, un’ towd her aw'd
COOm,
OF LAAWCA.S.H.I.R.E. 223
“What is he coom back? Ecod it's quoite reet,
If he's byetten th’ French, wey'll ha'e one merry
neet; -
Eawr Jone, it's no deawt, has browt things
abeawt;
He is true to booath country and king.”
JONE O' GRINFILT JUNIOR.
The following, Mr. Higson informs us, was once
a very popular song, and was taken down from
the singing of an old hand-loom weaver at
Droylsden. It was written just after the battle
of Waterloo, when times were bad, and hand-
loom weavers' wages fell from about 263 to a
guinea or 25s. a-week—i.e., for three or four days'
work ; for then weavers could seldom be induced
to “buckle to ” on Monday, Tuesday, or often
on Wednesday; these days being devoted to
recreations procured with high wages.
Aw'm a poor Cotton-wayver, as mony a one knaws,
Aw've nowt t' ate i' th' heavse, un’ aw've worn
eawt my cloas,
Yo'd hardly gie sixpence fur o' aw've got on,
Meh clogs ur’ booath baws'n, un' stockins aw've
none ;
224 BALLADS & SONGS
Yo'd think it wur hard, to be sent into th’
ward' -
To clem” un’ do best 'ot yo' con.
Eawr parish-church pa’son's kept tellin' us lung,
We'st see better toimes, if aw'd but howd my tung:
Aw've howden my tung, till aw con hardly draw
breoth,
Aw think i' my heart he meons t clem me to
deoth ;
Aw knaw he lives weel, wi' backbitin' the de'il,
Bur he never pick'd o'er" in his loife.
Wey tooart on six week, thinkin' aich day wur th’
last, - .
Wey tarried un' shifted, till neaw wey're quite fast;
Wey liv't upo nettles, whoile nettles were good,
Un’ Wayterloo porritch wur' th' best o' us food;
Aw'm tellin' yo' true, aw con foind foak enoo,
Thot're livin' no better nur me. -
Neaw, owd. Bill o' Dan's sent bailies one day,
Furt’ shop scoar aw'd ow'd him, 'ot aw' couldn't
pay :
* World. * Starve, hunger. * Threw the shuttle, wove.
OF LAWCASHIRE. 225
Bur he just to lat, fur owd Bill o' Bent,
Had sent tit un’ cart, un’ ta'en goods fur rent;
They laſt nowt bur a stoo' 'ot're seedts for two ;
Un’ on it keawrt Marget un' me.
The bailies sceawlt reawnd os sly os a meawse,
When they seedn o' th' things wur ta'en eawt o'
th' heavse;
Un tone says to th’ tother, “O’s gone, theaw may
see." - -
Aw said, “Never fret, lads, you're welcome ta'e
me:” -
They made no moor ado, bur nipt up th' owd
stoo',
Un’ wey booath leeten swack upo' th' flags.
Aw geet howd o' eawr Marget, for hoo're strucken
sick, * --
Hoo said, hoo'd ne'er had sich a bang sin’ hoo're
wick,
The bailies sceawrt off, wi' th' owd stoo' on their
back,
Un they wouldn't ha'e caret if they'd brokken her
neck.
They'rn so mad at owd Bent, 'cos he'd ta'en
goods fur rent,
Till they'rn ready to flee us alive.
Q
226 BA LLA D.S & 9 SOAVG.S'
Aw said to eawr Marget, as wey lien upo th’ floor,
“Wey ne'er shall be lower i' this wo'ald, aw’m
Sure, -
Bur if wey mun alter, aw’m sure wey mun mend,
Fur aw think i' my heart wey're booath at fur
end, . -
Fur mayt wey han none, nur no looms to wayve
On,
Ecod th’ looms are as well lost as fun.”
My piece wur cheeont off, un’ aw took it him
back ;
Aw hardly durst spake, mester lookèd so black ;
He said, “Yo're o'erpaid last toime 'ot yo coom.”
Aw said, “If aw’ wur', 'twur wi' wayving beawt
loom ;
Un i' t' moind 'ot aw’m in, aw'st ne'er pick o'er
again,
For aw've wooven mysel' to th’ fur end.”
So aw coom eawt o' th' wareheawse, un' laſt him
chew that, *
When aw thowt 'ot o' things, aw’re so vext that aw
Swat ;
Fur to think aw mun warch, to keep him un’ o'
th' set, -
O' th' days o' my loife, un’ then dee i'the'r debt
OF LA WCASHIRE. 227
But aw’ll give o'er this trade, un work wi' a
Spade, -
Or goo un’ break stone upo' th' road.
Eawr Marget declares, if hoo'd clooas to put on,
Hoo'd go up to Lunnun to see the great mon;
Un’ if things didno' awter, when theere hoo had
been, w
Hoo says hoo'd begin, un' feight blood up to th’ e'en,
Hoo's nout agen th' king, bur hoo loikes a fair
thing, -
Un’ hoo says hoo con tell when hoo's hurt.
JONE O GREENFEELTS RAMBLE IN
SEARCH OF TH' GREEN BAG."
Says Jone to his wife, I’ve great news for tº tell,
I've bin tº Lunnon fowt, aw th’ road by mysel :
To those of our readers who are not old enough to re-
member the circumstances of the memorable trial of Queen
Caroline, the consort of George IV., it may be necessary to
explain that much of the documentary evidence produced on
that occasion in the House of Lords came from a certain
green bag, which, in the state of public feeling at that time,
became an object of popular indignation, if not of contempt,
like the celebrated “AWon mi recordo” (“I do not recollect”)
of an Italian witness against the Queen, on that trial.
228 BAZZA DS & SONGS
I geet up won morning afore break o' day,
I thowt I should meet th’ green bag i' my way,
I’d no' porritch enow, so I run like a foo,
And ne'er stopt till I seed Lunnon fowt.
And when I geet there I walk’d up and deawn,
Kept looking abeawt me like some country cleawn;
They wanted for tº know what I had i' my rag,
I said it wur meal for tº put i' th' green bag.
I begun for to Swagger, and said he's a beggar,
That mon that keeps stuffing th’ green bag.
I think by my troth I mun write to eawr Nan,
For t tell her tº come here as hard as hoo con,
Becose hoo's so brazent and fears no face,
And I want for t'see that mon 'ot mays brass.
I'll tie up my lugs, and run i' my clogs,
And doff off my hat to th’ green bag.
There is more of this ; but enough has been
given to show its character.
JONE O GRINFILT GOING TO TH'
ROOSHAN WAR.
Another of the many imitations of this favourite
song, but very far short of the spirit of the
OF ZAAWCASA/IRE. 229
original. We take a specimen of it from a printed
ballad-sheet or broadside —
Yo Lankyshire lads, coom listen awhoile,
Aw'll sing yo a sung, 'ot 'ull mak yo o' Smoile,
Of owd Jone o' Grinfilt, yo’ve often yeard tell,
Fur at Grinfilt near Owdham lung toime aw did
dwell.
Aw’re at Wayterloo, wheere aw fowt loike a mon,
Bur me age 'ot that toime it wur scarce twenty-one,
So aw geet me discharge when th' peace it wur
made,
Un’ aw went back to Grinfilt to start i' th' owd
trade,
Bur weyving un me, we shan never agree,
So aw’ll goo for a sodger again.
Aw'm towd as owd Alexander the Czar
Is fully detarmint to keep on the war;
So aw’ll goo to Rushar beawt ony fear,
Un’ help my brave countrymen in the Crimear.
So fare thee weel, Englont! aw’m bound o'er tºmain,
Bur if aw’re t'good luck fur to coom back again,
23O . BALLA D.S & SOAVG.S.
Aw'll tell yo a teal, 'ot’ll mak yo o' stare,
About Alexander th’ greet Rushan bear.
Un if aw chance catch him, to Englont aw’ll
fetch him,
Un shaw him at tuppence apiece.
JONE O GRINFILT'S VISIT TO
MR. FIELDEN,
With a Petition to the Queen to fill every hungry
belly.
Another imitation, with reference to the late
Mr. John Fielden of Todmorden, M.P. for Old-
ham, who was a great opponent of the new Poor
Law. The extracts we take from a printed ballad
broadside :-
. Says Jone eawt o Grinfilt, “Aw'll tell yo what,
Nan,
Aw'll see Mester Fielden, as aw am a mon.”
Says Nan o' meh Gronny's, “This is meh belief,
Aw think Mester Fielden con banish this grief,
OF LA WC.A.S.H.I.R.E. 231
To Lunnun aw’ll walk, wi' meh clogs on meh feet,
To ax Bob and Nosey' if they cawn it reet. -
Aw'll tell eawr young queen, aw’m asheamt to be
Seen,
Fur aw've hardly a smock to meh back.
Jone talks of going to Ireland to consult Father
Matthew ; and of asking the Tory for meat, the
Whig for a plate, and the Chartist for a glass of
pop. Then— *
When aw coom back fro’ Irelont, to Lunnun aw’ll
goO,
Un’ o' abeawt Grinfilt aw’ll let him to know,
Un’ if they should caw meh a country cleawn,
Aw'll say aw’m a felly fro’ Saddleworth teawn.
Wi meh hat i meh hont, aw'll tell 'em aw want
Some porritch fur Marget and Nan.
Aw'll say aw’m so clemm'd 'ot aw connot aboide,
Un’ meh guts are as bare as a jackass's hoide,
Aw'll tell Bob and Nosey these toimes are so hard,
They’re o’ empty heavses welly in eawr ward;
Now money's so scant, they mun o' drop their rent,
Or th’ landlords 'ull very soon break.
* Sir Robert Peel and the Duke of Wellington.
THE BURNLEY HAYMAKERS
To Mr. T. T. Wilkinson, of Burnley, we are in-
debted for this Lancashire song. He informs us
that it was hawked and sung about Burnley and
the neighbourhood more than a century ago by
a noted Burnley ballad-singer called “Robin
O'Green,” whose portrait was painted, and was
afterwards engraved by or for one of the Towneleys
of Towneley. He was still living in 1790. The
song is a satire on some weather-prophet of his
day, whose name has not been preserved; but
whose astrological jargon and prophecies of fine
weather are ridiculed in somewhat learned phraseo-
logy for a ballad. There are yet left in the
neighbourhood a few astrologers, or, as they are
termed, “wise men,” who are said to make a good
thing of it. This song is supposed to have been
written by Mr. Cottam, a schoolmaster. .
I.
Help goddess-muse to sing of revelation,
Fanatic dreams or news from the stars,

BALLADS & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE, 233
Knowledge refined, mysterious speculation,
Secondary causes of peace or wars:
See how the plotting heavens
In a summer's even
Together make weather at their own dispose,
And to the sons of art,
Their secrets do impart,
And all their consultations most willingly disclose.
2.
Sol went down clear one evening to the ocean,
And gentle breezes perfumed the air,
Up to a mount as if to pay devotion
For such a blessing, this artist did repair,
Telescopes and glasses,
Fitting for such asses,
He took and thro' them did look up to the flatter-
ing sky,
And Aquarius spy,
Laying his pitcher by,
And nothing but fair weather appeared to his eye.
3.
Just when the sun took lodging with the lion,
Or near that time, if I do not mistake,
234 BAZZA D.S & 9 SOAVG.S.
More weeping weather we mortals ne'er set eye
On ; .
The sky wore a mantle for many days of
black,
The Hindes () disputed,
Would not be confuted,
They'd power that time to show'r down all their
influence,
The moist triplicity,
Within their powers might be,
But mark how they deceived a man of mighty
SCI1S6.
4.
Venus had dried her y
Which caused the wet; Orion had put on
His girdle close; thinks he, I cannot miss it,
Now, now, for hay-time, and so he marched
home,
Crying, mow your meadows,
Husbands, wives, and widows,
Cut down throughout the town, and you may take
f your rest;
The hay itself will make ;
Hang me if I mistake,
For prejudicing any is not my intent.
OF LA AVCA SA/IRE. 235
5.
I with Molly, Peggy, Sue, and Betty,
But five in number, dare well undertake,
The planets smile and th' evening looks so
pretty,
Half of the hay in this town ourselves to make,
No opposition,
To change condition,
I spy throughout the sky, fair weather to prevent;
Then cut your meadows down,
And if the heavens frown,
Or rain while Sol's in Zeo, I'll burn my instrument.
6.
Credulous fools gave ear to this imposter,
Cheats find acceptance above their deserts,
Down go the meadows, each strove which could
mow faster, -
Merely confiding in this rare son of arts :
He himself did bluster,
And his train did muster,
With rake and fork to make what he had under-
ta'en ;
But coming to the field,
He to his grief beheld,
The sky enveloped with clouds that threatened rain.
236 BAZZA D.S & 9 SOAVG.S.
7.
Yet confident, he called it “pride of the weather,”
And was assured that it was no rain :
AEölus lets loose his wings with moistened
feathers, -
Dipp'd in the ocean to cast 'em here again,
Astroeus puffs and blusters,
Drove the clouds in clusters,
Here rushing, there crushing, till they pour’d down
Such mighty clouds of rain,
As if they strove again,
By force of a new deluge this lower globe to drown.
8.
For many days continued such foul weather,
That all the hay cut down at that time was
spoiled ;
The bubbled farmers they all met together,
Blaming their folly to be so much beguiled;
But this lying prophet
Made no matter of it,
His book he had mistook, or taken a wrong text;
His tubes and telescopes .
Had quite deceived his hopes;
But he would be more certain when he predicted
next.
OF LA/VCA SHIRE. 237
9.
His book is only a lying errapater,
His telescope is a poor hollow bark;
Yet with such tools this fool himself doth flatter
To be Heaven's counsellor, or the planets'
clerk.
We have law for witches,
That studies mischief,
Some burning, others turning in a hempen string;
And can there any be,
Deserves more than he,
Who did such an inconveniency upon his neigh-
bours bring'

sº
£º
THE PRAISE OF LAN CASHIRE MEN.
OR,
A few lines which here is penn'd
Wherein they /ancashire lads commend.
7 une.—“A Job for a Journeyman Shoemaker.”
YOU Muses all assist my pen,
I earnestly require,
To write the praise of the young men
Born in Lancashire :
They are both comely, stout, and tall,
And of most mild behaviour;
Fair maids, I do intreat you all
To yield to them your favour.
When a Lancashire lad doth feel the dart
Of Cupid's bow and quiver,
And aim to take a fair maid’s part,
I’m sure he'll not deceive her :

BALLADS & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE. 239
Unto their promise they will stand,
Which they to you propounded ;
They will not break for house or land,
If love their hearts have wounded.
There is knights' sons and gentlemen,
That's born in Lancashire,
That will be merry now and then,
If need it do require :
The plowman likewise is our friend,
Who doth use plow and harrow ;
He freely will his money spend
When he meets with his marrow."
In Lancashire there's brisk young lads
As are within our nation,
Most of them of several trades,
Or of some occupation ;
That their wives they can well maintain,
And bring them store of treasure;
All by their labour and their pain,
They live with joy and pleasure :
* Mate, companion, lover, match.
4O
BAZZA D.S & SO/WGS’
It is a most delightful thing,
And pleasure for to hear,
These boys their songs and catches sing
When they drink their ale and beer :
They will be merry, great and small,
When they do meet together;
And freely pay for what they call—
A fig for wind and weather
At pleasant sports and football play
They will be blythe and jolly;
Their money they will freely lay,
And cast off melancholy.
When Lancashire lads, of several trades,
They have a jovial meeting,
Each man a glass unto fair maids
Will drink unto his sweeting.
Brave Lancashire lads are soldiers stout,
Whose valour have been tryed
At sea and land in many a bout,
When thousands brave men died;
And always scornéd for to yield
Although the foes were plenty;
If they're but ten men on the field,
They surely will fight twenty.
OF ZAAVCA SHIRE. 241
Great James our King they will defend
As well as any shire; -
To England they will prove a friend,
If need it do require. tº
They loyal subjects still have been,
And most of them stout-hearted,
Who still will fight for king and queen,
And never from them started.
Now to conclude, and make an end
Of this my harmless sonnet :
I hope no man I do offend ;
Each man put off his bonnet,
And drink a health to James our king,
And to our English nation;
God us defend in everything,
And keep us from invasion
* This fixes the date of the ballad as in the reign of
James I. or II.

WILL, THE FERRYMAN :
A WATER ECLOGUE.
Written, to accompany a particular piece of music,
ôy Dr. Freſ.
THE following lines, which appear in the Gentle-
man's Magazine for June 1758, seem to have taken
their rise from a circumstance still spoken of by
tradition, and which is sufficiently evident from
the lines themselves.—An Account of Æuncorn and
its Environs, by the Rev. John Greswell, Master of
the Grammar School in Manchester (p. 16).
Pale shone the moon on Mersey's flood,
The midnight silence was profound;
Save that where Elfled's castle' stood,
The sea-gull sometimes scream'd around :
Ethelfleda, or Elfleda, widow of Eldred, Duke of Mercia,
who died about A. D. 912, erected a castle in the year 916
upon the site which still retains the name of Castle Rock,
though no vestige of the castle remains.

/3A LLA D.S & SONGS OF LA WCASHIRE. 243
And village dog by fits did howl,
And from the lofty yew, that grows
Near old Rumcosa's kirk,” the owl
Her hollow note would interpose :
When from a cavern on the strand
Poor Will the Ferryman appear'd,
Who late had slept upon the sand,
And frantic then his head uprear'd.
For to a ship he call'd aloud,
Whose whitening sail he chanced to spy,
“I see her hand—I see her shroud—
O Molly, stay—O stay—’tis I
“What though within the churchyard near
Thy lifeless body low was laid;
Thy roving spirit will be here,
For ever here thy restless shade.
“For in this chamber of the rock,”
Which tides have worn, and time hath eat,
* Runcorn was called in the Saxon annals Aºuncoſan : by
Huntingdon, Rumcovert by other writers, A'uncoven or A'un-
cofazz and in the king's books, Ronchestorm.
* Probably that adjoining to the Bathing-house, below
the Lovers’ Walk.
244 BALLADS & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE,
I gave thy virtue first the shock
Which made thy future woe complete.
“From Liverpool then full blythe we came ;
Here on the beach the boat we moor'd ;
Thou lost thy life by loss of fame:
And fame once lost is ne'er restor'd.
“Then pale the rose grew on thy cheek,
And yellow what was lily-white;
Then sunk thy heart and spirit meek,
And eye that sparkled with delight.
“O com'st thou near?” he said; “then come !”
(For now the sails did nearer show);
“O reach thy hand, and take me home.” —
But billows whelm’d him far below.
The ebbing waters soon return'd
To Castle Rock his floating corse;—
They rung his knell—the village mourn’d—
And his new sweetheart deck'd his hearse.
-$:
s,
- . . . . C.
. . . . . * ...'....'... - º Cº Exe
ſº [...] ~ ºSººs" º
C º & Cº, & ººzºº
THE LOVER'S LEAP.
THE following song, by an anonymous writer, is
printed in Book iv. of Elegant Extracts (poetry) —
Hard by the hall our master's house,
Where Mersey flows to meet the main,
Where woods, and winds, and waves dispose
A lover to complain;
With arms across, along the strand
Poor Lycon walk'd, and hung his head :
Viewing the footsteps in the sand
Which a bright nymph had made.
The tide, said he, will soon erase
The marks so lightly here imprest;
But time or tide will ne'er deface
Her image in my breast.

246 AA L/A D.S & SOAVG.S'
Am I some savage beast of prey !
Am I some horrid monster grown'
That thus she flies so swift away,
Or meets me with a frown
That bosom soft, that lily skin
(Trust not the fairest outside show)
Contains a marble heart within—
A rock hid under snow.
Ah me ! the flints and pebbles wound
Her tender feet, from whence there fell
Those crimson drops which stain the ground,
And beautify each shell.
Ah fair one, moderate thy flight,
I will no more in vain pursue,
But take my leave for a long night;
Adieu, lov'd maid, adieu !
With that he took a running leap,
He took a lover's leap indeed,
And plung'd into the sounding deep,
Where hungry fishes feed.
The melancholy hern stalks by:
Around the squalling sea-gulls yell;
OF LA WC.A.S.H.I.R.E. 247
Aloft the croaking ravens fly,
And toll his funeral knell.
The waters roll above his head;
The billows toss it o'er and o'er,
His ivory bones lie scatterêd,
And whiten all the shore.

DEATH OF AN OLD HUNTSMAN.
THE following song (communicated by Mr. Higson,
of Droylsden) is said to have been sung more than
forty years ago. The Gartside named in the first
verse is said to have lived near Hartshead Pike.
Edmund Freer was huntsman to the Ashton-under-
Lyne pack of hounds.
1.
Of Troy's famed walls, of Iliad's king,
Of Hector's might, let poets sing,
And celebrate in strains sublime
The heroic deeds of ancient time:
A humbler muse inspires my verse
Whilst I old Gartside's' fate rehearse. .
2.
Where Greenfield rears her rocks on high,
O'ertops the clouds and meets the sky,
1 * Freer's.

BAZZADS & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE, 249
Jº . .
*
§ : , • - ... - .
* "And greets the first approach of morn
. This hero of the chase was born ;
-* A huntsman he of great renown,
To many noble sportsmen known.
3.
The crafty fox, the timid hare,
The kite that skims so blythe in air,
The falcon swift, the grovelling mole,
The marten sleek, the moping owl;
All birds and beasts of every shape,
None could his wily toil escape.
4.
When withering age his nerves unstrung,
The sportsmen all, both old and young,
Crowd to his cot their grief to tell,
And bid their dying friend farewell.
All, seeing death approach so near,
They cried, “Alas ! poor Edmund Freer "
5.
When to the churchyard he was borne
By village hinds, with looks forlorn,
And herdsmen, too, his corse attend,
To show their love to their old friend;
250 BALLADS & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE,
For death has ended the career
Of the brave huntsman, Edmund Freer.
6.
No more his horn the huntsman hears ;
No more his voice the village cheers ;
No more the fox, with artful care,
Eludes the chase, or fears the snare ;
Since death has ended the career
Of that brave huntsman, Edmund Freer.
7.
The turf that covers his remains
Is much revered by rustic Swains;
And Sportsmen all, as they pass by,
Pay the soft tribute of a sigh,
Or drop a sympathetic tear,
Saying, “Alas! poor Edmund Freer "

HAND-LOOM 77. POWER-LOOM.
THIS Song of a transitional era in weaving was
sung by John Grimshaw, better known by his
sobriquet of “Common,” of Gorton, near Man-
chester.
Come all you cotton-weavers, your looms you may
pull down ;
You must get employ'd in factories, in country or
in town,
For our cotton-masters have found out a wonderful
new scheme,
These calico goods now wove by hand they're
going to weave by steam.
In comes the gruff o'erlooker, or the master will
attend ;
It’s “You must find another shop, or quickly you
must mend ;

252 BAZZA D.S & SOAVGS
“For such work as this will never do; so now I'll
tell you plain, .
We must have good pincop-spinning, or we ne'er
can weave by steam.
There's sow-makers and dressers, and some are
making warps ;
These poor pincop-spinners, they must mind their
flats and sharps,
For if an end slips under, as sometimes perchance
it may, tºº
They'll daub you down in black and white, and
you've a shilling to pay. -
In comes the surly winder, her cops they are all
marr'd ;
“They are all snarls, and soft, bad ends; for I’ve
roved off many a yard;
“I’m sure I’ll tell the master, or the joss, when he
comes in :” -
They’ll daub you down, and you must pay;-so
money comes rolling in. -
The weavers' turn will next come on, for they must
not escape, -
To enlarge the master's fortunes, they are fined in
every shape.
OF LANCASHIRE. 253
For thin places, or bad edges, a go, or else a float,
They'll daub you down, and you must pay three-
pence, or else a groat.
If you go into a loom-shop, where there's three or
four pair of looms,
They all are standing empty, incumbrances of the
rooms ;
And if you ask the reason why, the old mother will
tell you plain,
My daughters have forsaken them, and gone to
weave by steam.
So, come all you cotton-weavers, you must rise up
very soon,
For you must work in factories from morning until
noon :
You mustn't walk in your garden for two or three
hours a-day, Ü
For you must stand at their command, and keep
your shuttles in play. -
[The rest wanting]
GORTON TOWN.
THIS song, communicated by Mr. John Higson, of
Droylsden, he says, is “translated from the ver-
nacular.” It will be the more intelligible to the
non-Lancashire reader. Gorton is a chapelry in
the parish of Manchester, and about three miles
from that city. This was sung in February 1865,
at the naming of a dog “Ringwood” at the
Hare and Hounds inn, Abbey Hey, Gorton, by
Samuel Beswick, a nephew of the composer of the
tune, and author or compiler of the words—the
late John Beswick, alias “Parish Jack,” a singer,
fluter, and fiddler, in great request at “stirs” and
merry-makings, where his vocal and instrumental
Services were often paid in kind—in meat, clothes,
or liquor. He was also in the choir of Gorton
chapel (now St. James's Church), where he was
buried a few years ago. It has been printed as a
broadside.

BALLADS & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE. 255
Gosh dang it, lads, we're coming again,
Though many a mile I've been:
A Gorton lad I’m bred and born,
And lots of sights I’ve seen.
But when I did come back again,
I nearly fell in fits,
For times and folk so alter'd look'd,
I thought I'd lost my wits.
I turn'd me north, I turn'd me south,
I turn'd me east and west,
And everything so alter'd look’d,
And some were none for th' best;
They’m even altered Goose Green pump,
They’m turn’d it upside down ;
And th' well they’m choked with paving-stones,
Since I left Gorton town.
When I left home some years ago,
Th' old folks had lots o' trade;
Some right good jobs came tumbling in,
And every one well paid.
We’d good roast-beef and pudding,
And ale some decent Swigs;
56
BA LZA D.S & SOAVG.S'
Egad they liv'd like fighting-cocks,
And got as fat as pigs.
But now, egad there’s none such things;
Poor folks have empty tripes;
There’s no roast-beef to stuff their hides,
It's Poor Law soup and swipes.
An honest working-man's no chance;
Grim want does on him frown ;
I ne'er thought things would come to this,
When I left Gorton town.
In days gone by our fine young men
Ne'er told such dismal tales;
They’d ne'er a man transported then
As far as New South Wales.
We’d honest men in Parliament,
Both Tories, Rads, and Whigs;
They were never known poor folk to rob,
But now they’ve turn'd to prigs.
Our manufact’rers work'd full time,
Their mills were seldom stopt;
No general turn-outs were there then,
Their wages never dropt.
OF ZAAVCA SA/IRAE.
Those Corn-law folks and Chartist lads
Might talk till all were brown,
Without being sent to treading-mills,
When I left Gorton town.
In days gone by I never thought
Such days would come as these,
When lads were all as gay as larks,
And wenches bright as bees.
Right merrily they jogg'd to th’ fairs
In clogs and light shalloon,
And every one could sport a face
Just like a harvest moon.
But now the clogs and light shalloons
Each one has thrown aside,
And lasses now are faded moons;
They're grown too proud to stride.
The foolish frumps sport mutton pumps,
And yet, their pride to crown,
They've bustles tied behind 'em
Half as large as Gorton town.
But dang it, lads ! aw'st ne'er forget,
When first I came i' th' town,
S
258 BALLADS & SONGS OF LAWCASHIRE.
A pretty wench came up to me.
And says, “Where art thou boun’?”
But putting all these jokes aside,
We'll hope these times will mend;
There'll come a day yet when the rich
Will prove the poor man's friend.
When work and honest poverty
Will meet with due regard;
And plotting knaves and creeping slaves
Will get their just reward.
It's soon or late, as sure as fate,
Such things will come to pass;
And when we all get lots of work,
We'll soon get lots of brass,
With right good trade, and fairly paid,
I dare bet thee a crown,
There'll not be such a place i' th' world
As merry Gorton town.
THE HAND-LOOM WIFAVERS’ LAMENT.
MR. JoHN HIGSON, of Droylsden, obtained this
song from the singing of John Grimshaw, alias
“Common,” of Abbey Hey, Gorton.
You gentlemen and tradesmen, that ride about at
will,
Look down on these poor people ; it's enough to
make you crill;"
Look down on these poor people, as you ride up
and down,
I think there is a God above will bring your pride
quite down.
Chorus.-You tyrants of England, your race
may soon be run,
You may be brought unto account
for what you've sorely done.
You pull down our wages, shamefully to tell;
You go into the markets, and say you cannot sell ;
* Chilly, goose-fleshy.

26o BALLA D.S & 9 SOAVGS
And when that we do ask you when these bad
times will mend,
You quickly give an answer, “When the wars are
at an end.”
When we look on our poor children, it grieves
our hearts full sore, -
Their clothing it is worn to rags, while we can
get no more,
With little in their bellies, they to their work
must go,
Whilst yours do dress as manky as monkeys in
a show.
You go to church on Sundays, I'm sure it's nought
but pride,
There can be no religion where humanity's thrown
aside ;
If there be a place in heaven, as there is in the
Exchange,
Our poor souls must not come near there ; like
lost sheep they must range.
With the choicest of strong dainties your tables
overspread,
With good ale and strong brandy, to make your
faces red;
OF LAAWCA.SHIRE, 261
You call'd a set of visitors—it is your whole
delight—
And you lay your heads together to make our
faces white.
You say that Bonyparty he's been the spoil of all,
And that we have got reason to pray for his
downfall; -
Now Bonyparty's dead and gone, and it is
plainly shown
That we have bigger tyrants in Boneys of our
OWI).
And now, my lads, for to conclude, it's time to
make an end ;
Let's see if we can form a plan that these bad
times may mend ;
Then give us our old prices, as we have had
before,
And we can live in happiness, and rub off the
old score.
This ballad was sung to the favourite air of
“A hunting we will go,” but better known in
and near Manchester by a song of the time, of
which one verse runs—
262 BALLA D.S & SONGS OF ZANCA.S.H.I.R.E.
With Henry Hunt we'll go, we'll go,
With Henry Hunt we'll go ;
We'll raise the cap of liberty, --
In spite of Nadin Joe.'
* Joseph Nadin was deputy-constable of Manchester for
more than twenty years. He resigned in March 1821, and
was succeeded by Mr. Stephen Lavender, from London.

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THE MIDDLETON OVERSEER AND THE
MADMAN.
THE following ballad is said to be founded on
fact. It was taken down by Mr. Higson, of
Droylsden, as sung by John Grimshaw, better
known as “Common,” of Abbey Hey, Gorton.
Middleton is a market-town and parish, midway
between Manchester and Rochdale. We have
also seen it in print as an ordinary ballad-sheet.
It's of a clever overseer, as crafty as a mouse, sir,
He brought a man from Middleton to Lancaster
mad-house, sir;
The overseer laughed in his sleeve, in view of
speculation,
But little did he think to meet with such a de-
solation.
Right fal the ral, the raddy oh,
Right fal the looral lido ;
Right fal the ral, the raddy oh,
Right fal the looral lido.

264 BALLA D.S &-e SOAVGS
When they arriv'd at Lancaster, says the mad-
man, “We’re at home, sir.”
They walk’d about Lancaster streets, like Darby
and his Joan, sir;
The madman and the overseer, they went to bed
together :
Says the overseer to himself, “I’ll stick to him
like leather.”
Right fal, etc.
*
Then the overseer did lie down, and the madman
he did creep, sir,
And by his cunning, crafty tricks, got the overseer
asleep, sir;
The note out of his pocket drew, which lay behind
his head, sir; .
Got up and left the overseer quite fast asleep in
bed, sir.
Right fal, etc.
By chance he met a gentleman; says he, “Where
are you bound, sir?”
He says, “I’m going to take a view of Lancaster
fine town, sir.”
OF AAAWCA.S.H.A.R.E. 265
Says he, “I’m an overseer, I’m come upon a
cruise, sir; .
I've a message that I must take down to Lan-
caster mad-house, sir.”
Right fal, etc.
When he got to Lancaster mad-house loudly he
rang the bell, sir,
And when the governor did appear, he cut a noble
swell, sir;
Says he, “A madman I have got, I’ll show you
my receipt, sir; -
I've had him in my custody, struggling all the
neet, sir.” * -
Right, fal, etc.
Says the lunatic, “He is so mad, perhaps he'll
form a plan, sir,
And when this morning we do come, he'll swear
I am the man, sir;
For he is so obstreporous, that no one can en-
dure him ;
And when he says that I'm the man, that instant
you secure him.”
Right fal, etc.
266 BAZZA D.S & 9 SO/WGS
He went straight back to th’ public-house, and
loudly he did say, sir,
“Why, overseer, do you intend to lie in bed all
day, sir!” -
The overseer was so alarm'd with fear beyond re-
lation,
To see the lunatic awake and free, yet full of con-
versation.
Right fal, etc.
Says the overseer, “I will get up ; we’ll have a
little meat, sir;
And after that we'll take a walk, and look at my
estate, sir.”
After they had breakfasted, they kindly did em-
brace, sir : -
Says the overseer, “Yonder is a most elegant place
SII.
Right fal, etc.
Then the overseer his pockets groped, and
- straight began a-crying:
His receipt was gone, he knew not how ; it set
him near a-dying.
OF ZAAVCASA/NA’A. 267
Says the overseer, “I must form a plan, all for
to get him in, sir.” -
Says the lunatic unto himself, “I wish you would
begin, sir.” -
Right fal, etc.
Then the overseer he rang the bell, without any
further thought, sir : •
Says the madman to the turnkey, “This is the
man I’ve brought, sir.”
They got hold of the overseer, and hauled him
into the place, sir;
Pull'd off his clothes, and shaved his head, and
then they wash’d his face, sir.
Right fal, etc.
Then he was so ungovernable, and kicked up
such a racket,
That quick they bound him hand and foot, put
on him a strait-jacket :
When the operation did commence, his mind was
filled with stitches,
And the overseer looked in their face like one
with dirty breeches.
Right fal, etc.
268 BALLADS & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE.
Says the lunatic, “I will go home, my sorrows
are all over;
I'm as happy now as ever cow was in a field
of clover.” .
“Where have you left the overseer?” “Where
they will make him civil :
I've left him in Lancaster 'sylum, as mad as any
devil " - -
Right fal, etc.
A note was sent immediately by the coach, the
“Volunteer,” sir,
To get to Lancaster with speed, to release the
overseer, sir;
And now, poor man, at home again, his mind's
full of reflection,
He'll remember Lancaster mad-house to the day
of resurrection.
Right fal, etc.
-j-
MARY MELVIN OF THE MERSEY SIDE.
THIS is a favourite song, on the broadsides printed
and sold in Liverpool and the neighbourhood.
Give ear with patience to my relation,
All you that ever felt Cupid's dart,
I’m captivated and ruinated
By a young female that made me smart.
My mind's tormented, I can't prevent it,
Her glancing beauty has me destroy'd,
I speak sincerely, I suffered dearly—
For Mary Melvin of the Mersey side.
In the month of May, when the lambkins play,
By the river-side as I chanc'd to rove,
There I spied Mary, both light and airy,
And singing sweetly as she did rove.
I got enchanted, I throbb’d and panted,
Like one delirious I stood and cried,
“Ah lovely creature, the boast of nature,
Did Cupid send you to the Mersey side l’”

27o AA LLA D.S & 9 SOAVGS
She made this answer, “It’s all romancing
For you to flatter a simple dame;
I’m not so stupid, or dup’d by Cupid,
So I defy you on me to scheme.
My habitation is near this plantation,
I feed my flocks by the riverside;
Therefore don't tease me, and you will please me,” tº
Said Mary Melvin of the Mersey side.
I said, “My charmer, my soul's alarmer,
Your glancing beauty did me ensnare ;
If I’ve offended, I never intended
To hurt your feelings, I do declare.
You sang so sweetly, and so discreetly,
You cheer'd the woods and valleys wide,
That fam'd Apollo your voice would follow,
Should he but hear you near the Mersey side.”
“Young man you’re dreaming, or you are scheming,
You're like the serpent that tempted Eve;
Your oily speeches do sting like leeches,
But all your flattery shan’t me deceive.
Your vain delusion is an intrusion;
For your misconduct I must you chide;
Therefore retire, it is my desire,”
Said Mary Melvin of the Mersey side.
OF LAMCASHIRE, - 27 I
“Don’t be so cruel, my dearest jewel,
I’m captivated, I really vow ;
To show I’m loyal, make no denial,
Here is my hand, and I’ll wed you now.
I want no sporting, nor tedious courting,
But instantly I’ll make you my bride;
Therefore surrender, I’m no pretender,
Sweet Mary Melvin of the Mersey side.”
She then consented, and quite contented
Unto the church we went straightway,
And quickly hurried, and both got married,
And join'd our hearts on that very day.
Her parents bless'd us, and then caress'd us ;
A handsome portion they did provide ;
We bless the day that we chanc'd to stray
By the lonely banks on the Mersey side.

GRIMSHAW'S FACTORY FIRE. {}
IN 1790 Mr. Robert Grimshaw, of Gorton House,
Gorton, near Manchester (having contracted with
the Rev. Dr. Cartwright, the inventor of the
power-loom, for the privilege of using 5oo of his
looms), erected, for their reception, a weaving
factory at Knott Mill, with steam-power. The
mill was finished, and the machinery, including 30
power-looms, had not been many weeks at work
before the whole building was burned to the
ground. As the proprietor had previously re-
ceived several anonymous letters threatening de-
struction to the mill if he persisted to work it,
there is every reason to conclude that the fire did
not happen without design, but was the work of
an incendiary. Mr. Grimshaw was about erecting
another mill in Gorton, but this fire not only de-
terred him, but others, from bringing the invention
into use ; and the next attempt to introduce

BALLA DS & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE. 273
power-looms into Manchester was not made till
sixteen years afterwards. About the time of the
fire there lived up the Ginnel, near the Chapel.
Houses, Gorton, a man named Lucas, a hand-
loom weaver and croſter or bleacher. Though
very illiterate, not able to write, and scarcely to
read, he enjoyed considerable local fame as a
rhymester. He composed a ditty on the destruc-
tion of Grimshaw's mill, which was regularly set
to music, printed, and sold by the ballad-dealers
of Manchester. The entire song cannot now be
recovered, but the following fragment has been
orally gleaned from five old men, each of whom
well recollects singing it at the time of its cur-
rency. It reveals the feelings of the working-
classes of that day on the introduction of
ñāchinery and steam-power. For the above
partićulars we are indebted to Mr. John Higson,
of Droylsden —
Come all ye country gentlemen
Come listen to my story;
It's of a country gallant
Who was cropp'd in his glory,
All by a new invention,
As all things come by natur',
T
274 AA/L/A D.S & 9 SOAVG.S
Concerning looms from Doncaster'
And weyvin' done by wayter.
Chorus.-Then, eh, the looms from Doncaster
That lately have come down—
That they never had been carried
Into Manchester town.
For coal to work his factory
He sent unto the Duke,” sir;
He thought that all the town
Should be stifled with the smoke, sir;
But the Duke sent him an answer,
Which came so speedily, .
That the poor should have the coal,
If the Devil took th’ machinery.
Then, eh, etc.
He got all kinds of people
To work at his invention,
Both English, Scotch, and Irish,
And more than I could mention.
He kept such order over them,
Much more than they did choose, sir,
* Dr. Cartwright had erected a mill for power-looms at
IDoncaster, but with so little success that it was abandoned.
* The Duke of Bridgewater, the great coal owner.
OF AAAWCA SHIRE. 275
They left him land for liberty;
Please God to spare their shoes, sir.
Then, eh, etc.
The floor was over shavings,
Took fire in the night, sir;
But now he's sick in bed ;
Some say it's with affright, sir.
[The rest wanting.]

THE BONNY GRAY.
THIS Song celebrated a famous cock-fight in th:
days of “the old Lord Derby”—Edward, the 12th
earl—who was very fond of the sport, and who
died in 1834. He was grandfather of the present
earl. The song appears to indicate that the cock-
pit in which the battle was fought was in Liverpool;
and it is clear that the Earl and the Prescot lads
backed the cock named “Charcoal Black,” while
the Liverpool folks supported the “Bonny Gray,”
which proved the victor. We take this song from
3. printed ballad-sheet:-
Come all you cock-merchants far and near,
Did you hear of a cock-fight happening here
Those Liverpool lads, I’ve heard them say,
'Tween the Charcoal Black and the Bonny Gray.
We went to Jim Ward's,' and call'd for a pot,
Where this grand cock-battle was fought ;
* The pugilist, who kept an inn in Liverpool.

BALLADS & SONGS OF LANCASHIRE. 277
For twenty guineas a-side these cocks did play,
The Charcoal Black and the Bonny Gray.
Then Lord Derby came swaggering down :
“I’ll bet ten guineas to a crown,
If this Charcoal Black he gets fair play,
He'll clip the wings of your Bonny Gray.”
Now when these cocks came to the sod,
Cry the Liverpool lads, “How now what odds?”
The odds, the Prescot lads did say,
'Tween the Charcoal Black and the Bonny Gray.
This cock-fight was fought hard and fast,
Till Black Charcoal he lay dead at last.
The Liverpool lads gave a loud huzza,
And carried away the Bonny Gray !

LANCASHIRE WITCHES.
WE print this from a street ballad-sheet —
In vain I attempt to describe
The charms of my favourite fair;
She's the sweetest of Mother Eve's tribe,
With her there is none to compare.
She's a pride of beauty so bright,
Her image my fancy enriches ;
My charmer's the village delight,
And the pride of the Lancashire witches.
Then hurrah for the Lancashire witches,
Whose smile every bosom enriches;
Oh, dearly I prize
The pretty blue eyes
Of the pride of the Lancashire witches.
They may talk of the dark eyes of Spain—
'Tis useless to boast as they do—
They attempt to compare them in vain
With the Lancashire ladies of blue.

BALLADS & SONGS OF LAWCASHIRE 279
Only view the dear heavenly belles,
You're soon seized with love's sudden
- twitches,
Which none could create but the spells
From the eyes of the Lancashire witches.
Then hurrah, etc.
The Lancashire witches, believe me,
Are beautiful every one ;
But mine, or my fancy deceives me,
Is the prettiest under the sun.
If the wealth of the Indies, I swear,
Were mine, and I wallow'd in riches,
How gladly my fortune I'd share
With the pride of the Lancashire witches.
Then hurrah, etc.
• iſ ºf Ihº at . . .
* Tºjº

THE LAN CASHIRE BAGPIPER.
IN Mr. Halliwell's curious collection of broad-
sides, ballads, etc., in Chetham's Library (vol.
xix. No. 1878), is an engraved two-part song
or duet, words and music, entitled, “The Italian
song called Pastorella made into an English dia-
logue, by Mr. Thomas d'Urfey.” Some one has
furnished another title in MS.—“The Lancashire
Bagpiper, and the Pedlar Woman, his Wife.” The
first verses of this will suffice. The names given
are Colin and Blowzabella :—
HE.
Blowzabella, my bouncing doxy,
Come, let's trudge it to Kirkham Fair;
There's stout liquor enough to fox me,
And young cullies to buy thy ware.

BAZZA D.S & SOAVGS OF LA WC.A.S.H.I.R.E. 281
SHE.
Mind your matters, you sot, without meddling,
How I manage the sale of my toys;
Get by piping, as I do by peddling;
You need never want me for supplies.
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