Part 8

Her cheeks with anger flush,

She bade young Johnny lead the way

Nor loiter in a bush....

And 'twas down in yonder valley, love,

Where the water glideth by:

Then angers flame enkindled love,

And changed its kind of show,

As Johnny laughed out and said,

"I'll lead the way below;

I'll lead you to the meadows green

Where we the lambs may spy/'

And 'twas down in yonder valley, love,

Where the water glideth by.

He held her hand, he whispered love;

He swore his heart was true;

He kissed her lips; the lambs did skip

About them on the dew,

About them in the morning dew,

Beneath a summer sky,

And 'twas down in yonder valley, love,

Where the water glideth by.

So married were the happy pair,

And joined in wedlock's band,

No more they go to seek the lambs

Together hand in hand;

They go no more a searching for

Her sheep with tearful eye,

All adown in yonder valley, love,

Where the water glideth by.

THE BROWN GIRL

|I am as brown, as brown can be,

And my eyes are as black as sloe;

I am as brisk as a nightingale,

And wild as a forest doe.

My love he was so high and proud,

His fortune too so high;

He, for another fair pretty maid,

Did scorn and passed me by.

Me did he send a love letter,

And he sent it from the town,

Saying, no more he loved me,

For that I was so brown.

I sent his letter back again,

For his love I valued not;

Whether that he would fancy me,

Whether that he would not.

When that six months were over passed,

Were over passed and gone,

Then did my lover, once so bold,

Alie on his bed and groan.

When that six months were over passed,

Were over gone and passed,

My lover, then, so bold and proud,

With love was sick at last.

First sent he for the doctor's man,

"You, doctor, must me cure;

The cruel pains that torture me,

I never can long endure."

Next did he send from out the town,

O next did send for me;

He sent for me, the brown, brown girl,

Who once his wife should be.

O never a bit the doctor man

His sufferings could relieve;

O never an one but the brown, brown girl,

Who could his life reprieve.

O now you shall hear what was she had

For this poor love-sick man,

All of the day, and a summers day,

She walked, but never ran.

When that she came to his bedside,

Where he lay sick and weak,

O then for laughing she scarce could stand

Upright upon her feet.

"You flouted me, you scouted me,

And many another one,

And now the reward has come at last

For all that you have done."

She took the rings from off her hand,

The rings, by two and three;

"O take, and O take these golden rings,

By them remember me."

She had a white wand in her hand,

She strake him on the breast;

"My faith and troth I give back to thee,

So may thy soul have rest."

"Prithee," said he, "forgive, forget;

Prithee, forget, forgive;

Grant to me yet a little space,

That I may longer live."

"O never will I forget, forgive,

So long as I have breath,

I'll dance above your green, green grave,

Where you do lie beneath."

THE ROVING JOURNEY-MAN

|Young Jack he was a journey-man

That roved from town to town;

And when he'd done a job of work

He lightly sat him down.

With his kit upon his shoulder, and

A grafting knife in hand,

He roved the country round about,

A merry journey-man.

And when he came to Exeter

The maidens leaped for joy;

Said one and all, both short and tall,

"Here comes a gallant boy."

The lady dropt her needle, and

The maid her frying-pan;

Each plainly told her mother that

She loved the journey-man.

He had not been in Exeter

The days were barely three,

Before the Mayor, his sweet daughter

She loved him desperately;

She bid him to her mother's house,

She took him by the hand,

Said she, "My dearest mother, see,

I love the journey-man!"

"Now out on thee, thou silly maid!

Such folly speak no more:

How can'st thou love a roving man

Thou ne'er hast seen before?"

"O mother sweet, I do entreat,

I love him all I can;

Around the country glad I'll rove

With this young journey-man.

"He need no more to trudge afoot,

He'll travel coach and pair;

My wealth with me--or poverty

With him, content I'll share."

Now fill the horn with barleycorn,

And flowing fill the can,

Here let us toast the Mayor's daughter

And the roving journey-man.

THYME AND RUE

|O once I had plenty of thyme,

I could flourish by night and by day.

Till a saucy lad he

Returned from sea,

And stole my thyme away.

O and I was a damsel so fair,

But fairer I wished to appear;

So I wash'd me in milk,

And I dressed me in silk,

And put the.sweet thyme in my hair.

With June is the red rose in bud,

But that's not the flower for me;

So I plucked the bud,

And it pricked me to blood,

And I gazed on the willow tree.

Othe willow tree it will twist,

And the willow tree, it will turn;

I would I were clasped

In my lover's arms fast,

For 'tis he that has stolen my thyme.

O it's very good drinking of ale,

But it's far better drinking of wine;

I would I were clasped

In my lover's arms fast,

For 'tis he that has stolen my thyme.

THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON

|There was a youth, and a well-beloved youth,

And he was a squire's son:

He loved the bailifFs daughter dear,

That lived in Islington.

Yet she was coy, and would not believe

That he did love her so,

No nor at any time would she

Any countenance to him show.

But when his friends did understand

His fond and foolish mind,

They sent him up to fair London,

An apprentice for to bind.

And when he had been seven long years,

And never his love could see,--

"Many a tear have I shed for her sake,

When she little thought of me."

Then all the maids of Islington

Went forth to sport and play,

All but the bailiff's daughter dear;

She secretly stole away.

She pulled off her gown of green,

And put on ragged attire,

And to fair London she would go,

Her true love to enquire.

And as she went along the high road,

The weather being hot and dry,

She sat her down upon a green bank,

And her true love came riding by.

She started up, with a colour so red,

Catching hold of his bridle-rein;

"One penny, one penny, kind sir," she said,

"Will ease me of much pain."

"Before I give you one penny, sweet-heart,

Pray tell me where you were born."

"At Islington, kind sir," said she,

"Where I have had many a scorn."

"I pry thee, sweet-heart, then tell to me,

O tell me, whether you know

The bailiff's daughter of Islington."

"She is dead, sir, long ago."

"If she be dead, then take my horse,

My saddle and bridle also;

For I will into some far country,

Where no man shall me know."

"O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth,

She standeth by thy side;

She is here alive, she is not dead,

And ready to be thy bride."

"O farewell grief, and welcome joy,

Ten thousand times therefore;

For now I have found mine own true love,

Whom I thought I should never see more."

THE SIMPLE PLOUGHBOY

|O the ploughboy was a ploughing

With his horses on the plain,

And was singing of a song as on went he.

"Since that I have fall'n in love,

If the parents disapprove,

'Tis the first thing that will send me to the sea.

When the parents came to know

That their daughter loved him so,

Then they sent a gang, and pressed him for the sea.

And they made of him a tar,

To be slain in cruel war,

Of the simple ploughboy singing on the lea.

The maiden sore did grieve,

And without a word of leave

From her father's house she fled secretly,

In male attire dress'd

With a star upon her breast,

All to seek her simple ploughboy on the sea.

Then she went o'er hill and plain,

And she walked in wind and rain,

Till she came to the brink of the blue sea,

Saying, "I am forced to rove,

For the loss of my true love,

Who is but a simple ploughboy from the lea."

Now the first she did behold,

O it was a sailor bold,

"Have you seen my simple ploughboy?" then said she;

They have press'd him to the fleet,

Sent him tossing on the deep,

Who is but a simple ploughboy from the lea."

Then she went to the captain

And to him she made complain,

O a silly ploughboy's run away from me!

Then the captain smiled and said,

"Why sir! surely you're a maid?

So the ploughboy I will render up to thee."

Then she pulled out a store

Of five hundred crowns and more

And she strewed them on the deck, did she;

Then she took him by the hand,

And she rowed him to the land,

Where she wed the simple ploughboy back

from sea.

ROBBIE TAMSON'S SMIDDIE

|Me mither mend't me auld breeks,

But ay! but they were diddy;

She sent me to get shod the mare

At Robbie Tamson's smiddie.

Now t' smiddie lies ayent the burn

That wamples thro' the claughin',

And ne'er a time I pass that way

But aye I fall a-laughin'.

Singing fol loi de loi de roi,

Ri fol loi de laddy,

Sing fol de duy, duy day,

Sing fol de duy daddy.

Now Robin was a canny lad

Wha had an ainly daughter;

He'd niver let her tak a mon,

Though mony a yan had sought her.

I'll tell you news of my exploits

The time the mare was shoeing,

I steppit in ahint the lass

And quickly fell a-wooing.

It's aye she eyed my auld breeks

The time that they were making;

Says I, "My lass, ne'er mind my breeks,

There's new yans for the making.

Gin yell agree to gang wi' me,

And leave the carle thy father,

Ye'll hae my breeks to keep in trim,

Myself and a together."

The lassie smiled and shook her head,

Says she, "Your offers clever;

I think I'll gang awa' wi' yan,

Well baith gae on the back o't.

For gin I wait my father's time

I'll wait till I bin fifty;

So I think I'll tak ye at your word,

And make a wife sae thrifty."

Now Robbie was an angry man,

For a t' loss of his daughter,

Through all the town baith up and down,

And far and near he sought her.

But when he cam to our gude inn

And found us baith together,

Says I, "My lad, I've tick your bairn,

Tho' ye may tak my mither."

Now Robbie girned and shook his head:

Quo' he, "I think I'll marry;

And so I'll tak ye at your word,

To end the hurry burry."

So Robbie and our ain gudewife

. Agreed to creep together:

So I've ta'en Robbie Tamson's pet,

And Robbie's ta'en my mither.

CUPID'S GARDEN

|As I were in Cupid's garden,

Not more nor half-an-hour,

'Twere there I see'd two maidens,

Sitting under Cupid's bower,

A-gathering of sweet jassamine,

The lily and the rose.

These be the fairest flowers

As in the garden grows.

I fondly stepped to one o' them,

These words to her I says,

"Be you engaged to arra young man,

Come tell to me, I prays."

"I bean't engaged to narra young man, '

I solemnly declare,

I aims to live a maiden,

And still the laurel wear."

Says I, "My stars and garters!

This here's a pretty go,

For a fine young maid as never was,

To serve all mankind so."

But t'other young maiden looked sly at me,

And from her seat she risen,

Says she, "Let thee and I go our own way,

And we'll let she go shis'n."

KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT

|An ancient story I'll tell you anon

Of a notable prince, that was called King John;

And he ruled England with main and with

might,

For he did great wrong, and maintain'd little right.

And I'll tell you a story, a story so merry,

Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury;

How for his house-keeping and high renown,

They rode post for him to fair London town.

An hundred men, the king did hear say,

The abbot kept in his house every day;

And fifty gold chains, without any doubt,

In velvet coats waited the abbot about.

"How now, father abbot, I hear it of thee,

Thou keepest a far better house than me;

And for thy house-keeping and high renown,

I fear thou workst treason against my crown."

"My liege," quo' the abbot, "I would it were known

I never spend nothing, but what is my own;

And I trust your grace will do me no deere,

For spending of my own true-gotten gear."

"Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is high,

And now for the same thou needest must die;

For except thou canst answer me questions three,

Thy head shall be smitten from thy body.

"And first," quo' the king, "when I'm in this

stead,

With my crown of gold so fair on my head,

Among all my liege-men so noble of birth,

Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worth.

"Secondly, tell me, without any doubt,

How soon I may ride the whole world about;

And at the third question thou must not shrink,

But tell me here truly what I do think."

"O these are hard questions for my shallow wit,

Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet:

But if you will give me but three weeks' space,

I'll do my endeavour to answer your grace."

(_deere_, harm. _stead_, place.)

"Now three weeks' space to thee will I give,

And that is the longest time thou hast to live;

For if thou dost not answer my questions three,

Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to me."

Away rode the abbot all sad at that word,

And he rode to Cambridge, and Oxenford;

But never a doctor there was so wise,

That could with his learning an answer devise.

Then home rode the abbot of comfort so cold,

And he met his shepherd a going to fold:

"How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome home;

What news do you bring us from good King John?"

"Sad news, sad news, shepherd, I must give,

That I have but three days more to live;

For if I do not answer him questions three

My head will be smitten from my body.

"The first is to tell him there in that stead,

With his crown of gold so fair on his head,

Among all his liege-men so noble of birth,

To within one penny of what he is worth.

"The second, to tell him, without any doubt,

How soon he may ride this whole world about;

And at the third question I must not shrink,

But tell him there truly what he does think."

"Now cheer up, sire abbot, did you never hear yet,

That a fool he may learn a wise man wit?

Lend me horse, and serving men, and your apparel,

And I'll ride to London to answer your quarrel.

"Nay frown not, if it hath been told unto me,

I am like your lordship, as ever may be;

And if you will but lend me your gown,

There is none shall know us at fair London

town."+

"Now horses and serving-men thou shalt have,

With sumptuous array most gallant and brave,

With crozier, and mitre, and rochet, and cope,

Fit to appear Yore our father the pope."

"Now, welcome, sire abbot," the king he did say,

"'Tis well thourt come back to keep thy day:

For and if thou canst answer my questions three,

Thy life and thy living both saved shall be.

"And first, when thou seest me here in this stead,

With my crown of gold so fair on my head,

Among all my liege-men so noble of birth,

Tell me to one penny what I am worth."

"For thirty pence our Saviour was sold

Among the false Jews, as I have been told:

And twenty-nine is the worth of thee,

For I think thou art one penny worser than he."

The king he laughed, and swore by St Bittel,

"I did not think I had been worth so little!

--Now secondly tell me, without any doubt,

How soon I may ride this whole world about."

"You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same

Until the next morning he riseth again;

And then your grace need not make any doubt

But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about."

The king he laughed, and swore by St John,

"I did not think it could be gone so soon!

--Now from the third question thou must not shrink,

But tell me here truly what I do think."

"Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry;

You think I'm the abbot of Canterbury;

But I'm his poor shepherd, as plain you may see,

That am come to beg pardon for him and for me."

The king he laughed, and swore by the mass,

"I'll make thee lord abbot this day in his place!"

"Now nay, my liege, be not in such speed,

For alack I can neither write nor read."

"Four nobles a week, then I will give thee,

For this merry jest thou hast shown unto me;

And tell the old abbot when thou comest home,

Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John."

(_Bittel_, Botolph (?))

THE KING AND THE COUNTRYMAN