Part 1

MODERN STREET BALLADS

BY JOHN ASHTON AUTHOR OF “SOCIAL LIFE IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE,” ETC.

_WITH FIFTY-SIX ILLUSTRATIONS_

London CHATTO & WINDUS PICCADILLY 1888

[_The right of translation is reserved_]

INTRODUCTION.

Over Street Ballads may be raised the wail of “Ichabod, Ichabod, their glory is departed.” They held their own for many centuries, bravely and well, but have succumbed to a changed order of things, and a new generation has arisen, who will not stop in the streets to listen to these ballads being sung, but prefer to have their music served up to them “piping hot,” with the accompaniment of warmth, light, beer, and tobacco (for which they duly have to pay) at the Music Halls; but whether the change be for the better, or not, may be a moot question.

These Street Ballads were produced within a very few hours of the publication of any event of the slightest public interest; and, failing that, the singers had always an unlimited store to fall back upon, on domestic, or humorous subjects, love, the sea, etc., etc. Of their variety we may learn something, not only from this book, but from the ballad of “Chaunting Benny” of which the following is a portion:--

..........

“My songs have had a tidy run, I’ve plenty in my fist, Sirs, And if you wish to pick one out, I’ll just run through my list, Sirs.

Have you seen “My daughter Fan,” “She wore a wreath of roses,” And here you see “My son Tom,” “The Sun that lights the roses,” “Green grow the rushes O,” “On the Banks of Allan Water,” “Such a getting out of bed,” with “Brave Lord Ullin’s daughter.”

“Poor Bessie was a Sailor’s bride,” “Sitting on a rail,” Sirs, “Is there a heart that never loved?” “The Rose of Allandale,” Sirs, “The Maid of Judah,” “Out of Place,” with “Plenty to be sad at,” “I say, my rum un, who are you?” with “What a shocking bad hat,” etc., etc.

Rough though some of these Street Ballads may be, very few of them were coarse, and, on reading them, we must ever bear in mind the class for whom they were produced, who listened to them, and--practical proof of interest--bought them. In this collection I have introduced nothing which can offend anybody except an absolute prude; in fact, “My bear dances only to the genteelest of tunes.”

There are plenty of my readers old enough to remember many of these Ballads, and they will come none the worse because they bring with them the reminiscence of their youth. _Forsan et hæc olim meminisse juvabit._ They owe a great deal of their charm to the fact that they were absolutely contemporary with the events they describe, and, though sometimes rather faulty in their history, owing to the pressure under which they were composed and issued, yet those very inaccuracies prove their freshness.

The majority were illustrated--if, indeed, any can be called illustrated--for the woodcuts were generally served out with a charming impartiality, and without the slightest regard to the subject of the ballad. What previous work these blocks had served, goodness only knows; they were probably bought at trade sales, and had illustrated books that were out of date or unsaleable. They vary from the sixteenth century to Bewick, some of whose works are occasionally met with; but, taking them as a whole, we must fain confess that art as applied to these Ballads was at its very lowest. Their literary merit is not great--but what can you expect for half-a-crown? which was the price which Jemmy Catnach,[1] of Monmouth Court, Seven Dials, used to pay for their production. Catnach issued a large number from his press (in fact, his successor, Fortey, advertised that he had four thousand different sorts for sale), and his name is used as a “household word” to designate this class of Ballad. But, in fact, he only enjoyed the largest share of the London trade, whilst the Provinces were practically independent--Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, Newcastle, Preston, Hull, Sheffield, Durham, etc., had their own ballad-mongers, who wrote somewhat after the manner of the author of “The Bard of Seven Dials.”

“And it’s my plan, that some great man Dies with a broken head, Sirs, Vith a bewail, I does detail His death ’afore e’s dead, Sirs. And while his friends and foes contends, They all my papers buy, Sirs, Yes, vithout doubt, I sells ’em out, ’Cos there my talent lies, Sirs.”

The Ballad singers and vendors made money rapidly over any event which took the popular fancy--a good blood-curdling murder being very profitable; and the business required very little capital, even that being speedily turned over. Generally, the singers worked singlehanded, but sometimes two would join, and then the Ballad took an antiphonal form, which must have relieved them very much, and the crowd which gathered round them was the surest proof that their vocal efforts were appreciated.

They are gone--probably irrevocably--but a trace of the vendor still lingers amongst us. One or two still remain about Gray’s Inn Road, Farringdon Road, and other neighbourhoods; but I venture to say, as they drop out, they will find no successors. You may know them, if ever lucky enough to meet with one, by their canvas screens, on which are pinned the ballads--identical with that immortal screen of which Mr. Silas Wegg (in Dickens’s “Our Mutual Friend”) was the proud proprietor; but these modern Ballads are mostly reproductions of Music Hall songs, and have very little in common with those about which I write.

I have taken the first fifty years of this century, when this style of Street Ballad was at its best, but I have liberally interpreted my fifty years, by extending its margin by a year or two either way--thus, I include the Mutiny at the Nore in 1798, and the Great Exhibition of 1851, and I have selected those that bear on most, and elucidate best, the social manners and customs of that period.

RIGHT JOHN ASHTON.

CONTENTS.

SOCIAL.

PAGE

SALE OF A WIFE 1

A WOMAN NEVER KNOWS WHEN HER DAY’S WORK’S DONE 5

THE TREATS OF LONDON 9

THE INCOME TAX 12

STRIKING TIMES 17

THE MECHANIC’S APPEAL TO THE PUBLIC 21

WOMEN’S SAYINGS 24

BOB LOGIC’S DESCRIPTION OF THE NEW BRIGHTON DILIGENCE FOR INSIDE PASSENGERS ONLY 31

PAPER’D-UP HAIR 34

I LIKES A DROP OF GOOD BEER 36

THE SNOB AND THE BOTTLE 38

RORY O’MORE TURNED TEETOTAL 42

HURRAH FOR FATHER MATHEW’S MILL 45

HOW FIVE AND TWENTY SHILLINGS WERE EXPENDED IN A WEEK 48

THE WAY TO LIVE 52

THE CRIES OF LONDON 55

THE HONEST POLICEMAN OF MITCHAM 59

COOKEY DARLING 62

I SHOULD LIKE TO BE A POLICEMAN 64

BENDIGO, CHAMPION OF ENGLAND 67

THE BOLD IRISH YANKEY BENICIA BOY 71

I’M A GENT 75

JULLIEN’S GRAND POLKA 77

MARGATE HOY 80

CRYSTAL PALACE 82

HUMOROUS.

SHEEP’S EYES FOR EVER 85

CAB, CAB, CAB 88

THE RUSH LIGHT 91

IF I HAD A DONKEY WOT WOULDN’T GO 94

SHOVEL AND BROOM 96

VILIKINS AND HIS DINAH 98

THE EXCISEMAN OUTWITTED 101

GILES SCROGGIN’S GHOST 103

THE STRANGE MAN 105

A SIGHT FOR A FATHER 108

HUMOURS OF BARTLEMY FAIR 111

GEORGY BARNWELL 116

JONATHAN BROWN 119

WERY PEKOOLIAR, OR THE LISPING LOVERS 121

THE BABES IN THE WOOD 124

KATE’S YOUNG MAN 128

HE WAS SUCH A NICE YOUNG MAN 131

MRS. MONDAY 135

ALL TO ASTONISH THE BROWNS 138

THE RATCATCHER’S DAUGHTER 142

HOT CODLINGS 145

THE WONDERFUL CROCODILE 147

THE THIEF’S ARM 150

CORK LEG 153

THE ONE HORSE CHAY 156

THE LITERARY DUSTMAN 160

THE BILL STICKER 164

THINGS I DON’T LIKE TO SEE 167

THE BARREL OF PORK 170

ALL ROUND MY HAT 173

HERE’S THE MAN A-COMING! 175

THE NOBBY HEAD OF HAIR 177

MISS BAILEY’S GHOST 180

HUMPHREY DUGGINS 182

COUNTRY.

THE HONEST PLOUGHMAN, OR 90 YEARS AGO 184

THE NEW FASHIONED FARMER 188

PRESENT TIMES, OR EIGHT SHILLINGS A WEEK 192

JIG, JIG, TO THE HIRINGS 195

COUNTRY STATUTES 199

THE BOLD POACHER 202

DEATH OF POOR BILL BROWN 204

THE JOLLY ANGLER 206

THE HUMOURS OF THE RACES 209

THE BONNY GREY 212

THE KING AND WEST COUNTRYMAN 213

HODGE IN LONDON 215

SEA.

DEATH OF PARKER 218

THE BATTLE OF BOULOGNE 221

VICTORY 223

THE BATTLE OF NAVARINO 225

DUKE WILLIAM’S FROLIC 228

THE KING AND THE SAILOR 232

JACK BINNACLE AND QUEEN VICTORIA 234

SWEET WILLIAM 238

THE POOR SMUGGLER’S BOY 240

THE SMUGGLER’S BRIDE 242

THE FEMALE SMUGGLER 245

JACK RETURNED FROM SEA 248

THE JOLLY ROVING TAR 251

YOUNG HENRY OF THE RAGING MAIN 253

JACK ROBINSON 256

BOLD WILLIAM TAYLOR 259

RATCLIFFE HIGHWAY IN 1842 262

THE GREENLAND WHALE FISHERY 265

THE NEW YORK TRADER 268

THE QUEEN.

VIVA VICTORIA 271

QUEEN VICTORIA 273

THE QUEEN’S MARRIAGE 276

A NEW SONG ON THE BIRTH OF THE PRINCE OF WALES 279

THE QUEEN AND THE COAL EXCHANGE 281

CRYSTAL PALACE 284

QUEEN’S VISIT TO FRANCE 287

THE QUEEN’S DREAM 290

LOVELY ALBERT 294

HISTORICAL.

BRAVE NELSON 298

LORD NELSON 300

BATTLE OF WATERLOO 303

KING GEORGE IV.’S WELCOME TO SCOTLAND 305

THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR ROBERT PEEL, BART., M.P. 308

DEATH OF WELLINGTON 311

POLITICAL.

THE CHRONICLES OF THE POPE 313

THE HAPPY REFORM 318

THE OPERATIVES’ MARCH 321

A NEW ALPHABETICAL SONG ON THE CORN LAW BILL 322

A NEW SONG ON THE CORN BILL 327

THE CRISIS 331

CHARTISTS ARE COMING 335

THE SONG OF THE LOWER CLASSES 338

A NEW HUNTING SONG 340

MISCELLANEOUS.

THE WONDERFUL WONDERS OF TOWN 343

LAW 346

JIM CROW 349

THE WORKHOUSE BOY 351

THE WILD ROVER 353

THE DIGGINS, O! 355

BOTANY BAY 359

VAN DIEMAN’S LAND 361

FAREWELL TO JUDGES AND JURIES 364

MY BONNY BLACK BESS 366

LIFE OF THE MANNINGS 368

THE LIFE AND TRIAL OF PALMER 371

MARY ARNOLD, THE FEMALE MONSTER 374

THE UNDERTAKER’S CLUB 377

A TIDY SUIT FOR ALL THAT 379

THE RAGGED COAT 382

THE COLLIER SWELL 385

THE LONDON MERCHANT 388

RILEY’S FAREWELL 390

YOUNG WILLIAM 392

THE BROKEN HEARTED GARDENER 394

BOXING DAY IN 1847 396

ST. JAMES’S AND ST. GILES’S 399

THE THREE BUTCHERS 403

_SALE OF A WIFE._

Whenever a foreigner used to write that Englishmen sold their wives in open market, with halters round their necks, they were not believed in England; but it was nevertheless a fact, and even as lately as last year a man sold his wife. In two of my books (“Old Times” and “The Dawn of the Nineteenth Century”) I have given numerous instances. The halter round the neck was used when the wife was sold at market, it being considered that, being thus accoutred, she was on a level with the cattle, and thus could legally be sold.

ATTEND to my ditty, you frolicsome folk, I’ll tell you a story--a comical joke; ’Tis a positive fact, what I’m going to unfold, Concerning a woman, who by auction was sold.

_Chorus._

Then long may he flourish, and prosper through life, The Sailor that purchased the Carpenter’s wife.

A carpenter lived not a mile off from here, Being a little, or rather too, fond of his beer; Being hard up for brass--it is true, on my life, For ten shillings, by auction, he sold off his wife.

The husband and wife they could never agree, For he was too fond of going out on the spree; They settled the matter, without more delay, So, tied in a halter, he took her away.

He sent round the bellman announcing the sale, All in the hay-market, and that without fail; The auctioneer came, with his hammer, so smart, And the Carpenter’s wife stood up in a Cart.

Now she was put up without grumble or frown, The first bid was a tailor, that bid half a crown; Says he, I will make her a lady so spruce, And fatten her well upon Cabbage and goose.[2]

Five and sixpence three farthings, a butcher then said, Six and ten said a barber, with his curly head; Then up jump’d a cobbler, said he, in three cracks, I’ll give you nine shillings, and two balls of wax.

Just look at her beauty, the auctioneer cries, She’s mighty good-tempered, and sober likewise; Damme, said a sailor, she’s three out of four, Ten shillings I bid for her, not a screw more.

Thank you, sir, thank you, said the bold auctioneer, Going for ten--is there nobody here Will bid any more? Is not this a bad job? Going! Going! I say--she is gone for ten bob.

The hammer was struck--that concluded the sale, The sailor he paid down the brass on the nail; He shook hands with Betsy, and gave her a smack, And she jump’d straddle-legs on to his back.

The people all relished the joke, it appears, And gave the young Sailor three hearty good cheers; He never cried stop, with his darling so sweet, Until he was landed in Denison Street.

They sent for a fiddler, and piper to play, They danced and they sung, untill the break of day, Then Jack to his hammock with Betsy did go, While the fiddler and the piper played “Rosin, the beau.”

* * * * * *

Wives at the market did not fetch good prices; the highest I know of, is recorded in _The Times_, September 19, 1797: “An hostler’s wife, in the country, lately fetched twenty-five guineas.” But this was extravagance, as, with the exception of a man who exchanged his wife for an ox, which he sold for six guineas, the next highest quotation is three and a half guineas; but this rapidly dwindled down to shillings, and even pence. In 1881, a wife was sold at Sheffield for a quart of beer; in 1862, another was purchased at Selby Market Cross for a pint; and the _South Wales Daily News_, May 2, 1882, tells us that one was parted with for a glass of ale. Sometimes they were unsaleable, as we learn by the following ballad:--

JOHN HOBBS.

A jolly shoemaker, John Hobbs, John Hobbs; A jolly shoemaker, John Hobbs! He married Jane Carter, No damsel look’d smarter; But he caught a tartar, John Hobbs, John Hobbs; Yes, he caught a tartar, John Hobbs.

He tied a rope to her, John Hobbs, John Hobbs; He tied a rope to her, John Hobbs! To ’scape from hot water, To Smithfield he brought her; But nobody bought her, Jane Hobbs, Jane Hobbs, They all were afraid of Jane Hobbs.

Oh, who’ll buy a wife? says Hobbs, John Hobbs; A sweet pretty wife, says Hobbs. But, somehow, they tell us The wife-dealing fellows Were all of them sellers, John Hobbs, John Hobbs. And none of them wanted Jane Hobbs.

The rope it was ready, John Hobbs, John Hobbs. Come, give me the rope, says Hobbs; I won’t stand to wrangle, Myself I will strangle, And hang dingle dangle, John Hobbs, John Hobbs; He hung dingle dangle, John Hobbs.

But down his wife cut him, John Hobbs, John Hobbs; But down his wife cut him, John Hobbs; With a few hubble-bubbles, They settled their troubles, Like most married couples, John Hobbs, John Hobbs, Oh, happy shoemaker, John Hobbs!

_A WOMAN NEVER KNOWS WHEN HER DAY’S WORK’S DONE._

NOW just attend to me, Married men of all degree, While I tell you the vicissitudes of life, There’s nothing, understand, Half so pleasing to a man, As a good temper’d, kind, and loving wife. She is always at her work, Tho’ sometimes used like a Turk; Here and everywhere compelled she has to run; While a man can banish care, Drown sorrow and dull care, A woman never knows when her day’s work’s done.

_Chorus._

Then just attend to me, To your wives be kind and free, And never mind the clatter of her tongue, If you the truth will speak, You know the live-long week, A woman never knows when her day’s work’s done.

That man must be a fool, Who will strive his wife to rule, Or drive her, like an elephant, about, You will find ’ere you begin, You may knock nine devils in, But never can you knock one devil out. We nothing ought to hear, But “my darling” and “my dear,” And to please his wife a man should miles run, Her all indulgence give, Then happy will he live, For a woman never knows when her day’s work’s done.

Every married man should know They now have made a law, That if any man should dare ill-use his wife, Six months he will bewail In a dark and dismal jail, With heavy irons on him day and night. Men, be advised by me, Use the women tenderly, And to please her you must always cheerful run, For you all must know full well, If the truth you will but tell, That a woman never knows when her day’s work’s done.

Married women take advice, Get you every thing that’s nice, A little drop of brandy, rum, or gin, And if your husband should complain, Give the compliment again, And whack him with the wooden rolling-pin. When some women well behaves, They’re oft used worse than slaves, And must not dare to use their pretty tongue, Let the world say what it will, I will say, and prove it still, That a woman never knows when her day’s work’s done.