Chapter L: Q. A. "The king sent me three letters, I never read them all,

Text size

So pray, Miss ----, deliver the ball."

Should she have guessed correctly, all the party curtsey, and say--

"The ball is yours and not ours,
You must go to the garden and gather the flowers."

And the child who had the ball takes the queen's seat, whilst she retires with the others; but should she have made a mistake, the same party go out again, saying as they curtsey--

"The ball is yours and not ours,
(Repeat) We," etc.

Mr. Halliwell Phillips, in his book before quoted, has shorter versions of this, with different rhymes.

Another game which has descended from generation to generation is--

OLD WITCH.

The children chose from their party an old witch (who is supposed to hide herself) and a mother. The other players are the daughters, and are called by the names of the week. The mother says that she is going to market, and will bring home for each the thing that she most wishes for. Upon this they all name something. Then, after telling them upon no account to allow anyone to come into the house, she gives her children in charge of her eldest daughter Sunday, and goes away. In a moment, the witch makes her appearance, and asks to borrow some trifle.

Sunday at first refuses, but, after a short parley, goes into the next room to fetch the required article. In her absence the witch steals the youngest of the children (Saturday), and runs off with her. Sunday, on her return, seeing that the witch has left, thinks there must be something wrong, and counts the children, saying, "Monday, Tuesday," etc., until she comes to Saturday, who is missing. She then pretends to cry, wrings her hands, and sobs out--"Mother will beat me when she comes home."

On the mother's return, she, too, counts the children, and, finding Saturday gone, asks Sunday where she is. Sunday answers, "Oh, mother! an old witch called, and asked to borrow ----, and, whilst I was fetching it, she ran off with Saturday." The mother scolds and beats her, tells her to be more careful in the future, and again sets off for the market. This is repeated until all the children but Sunday have been stolen. Then the mother and Sunday, hand in hand, go off to search for them. They meet the old witch, who has them all crouching down in a line behind her.

Mother. Have you seen my children?

O. W. Yes! I think, by Eastgate.

The mother and Sunday retire, as if to go there, but, not finding them, again return to the witch, who this time sends them to Westgate, then to Southgate and Northgate. At last one of the children pops her head up over the witch's shoulder, and cries out, "Here we are, mother." Then follows this dialogue:--

M. I see my children, may I go in?

O. W. No! your boots are too dirty.

M. I will take them off.

O. W. Your stockings are too dirty.

M. I will take them off.

O. W. Your feet are too dirty.

M. I will cut them off.

O. W. Then the blood will stream over the floor.

The mother at this loses patience, and pushes her way in, the witch trying in vain to keep her out. She, with all her children, then chase the witch until they catch her; when they pretend to bind her hand and foot, put her on a pile, and burn her, the children fanning the imaginary flames with their pinafores. Sometimes the dialogue after "Here we are, mother," is omitted, and the witch is at once chased.

Mr. Halliwell Phillips calls this the "Game of the Gipsy," and gives some rhymes to which it is played, but I have never heard them in this county.

The next, a game quite unknown to me, I took down from the lips of a little girl in West Cornwall, in 1882, who told me it was a great favourite with her and her playmates.

GHOST AT THE WELL.

One of the party is chosen for ghost (if dressed in white so much the better); she hides in a corner; the other children are a mother and daughters. The eldest daughter says:

"Mother, mother, please give me a piece of bread and butter."

M. Let me (or "leave me") look at your hands, child. Why, they are very dirty.

E. D. I will go to the well and wash them.

She goes to the corner, the ghost peeps up, and she rushes back, crying out--

"Mother! mother! I have seen a ghost."

M. Nonsense, child! it was only your father's nightshirt I have washed and hung out to dry. Go again.

The child goes, and the same thing happens. She returns, saying--

"Yes, mother! I have seen a ghost."

M. Nonsense, child! we will take a candle, and all go together to search for it. The mother picks up a twig for a candle, and they set off. When they come near to the ghost, she appears from her hiding-place, mother and children rush away in different directions; the ghost chases them until she has caught one, who in her turn becomes ghost.

MOTHER, MOTHER, MAY I GO OUT TO PLAY?

I thought this game was a thing of the past, but I came on some children playing it in the streets of Penzance, in 1883. It may be played by any number, and, as in the two former games, one is chosen for mother. This is the dialogue:

C. Mother, mother, may I (or we) go out to play?

M. No, child! no, child! not for the day.

C. Why, mother? why, mother? I won't stay long.

M. Make three pretty courtesies, and away! begone!

C. One for mammy, one for daddy, one for Uncle John.

The child, as she mentions the names, spreads out the skirts of her dress and courtesies, after which she retires to a little distance, and then returns.

M. Where, child! where, child! have you been all the day?

C. Up to granny's.

M. What have you been doing there?

The answer to this is often "Washing dolls' clothes," but anything may be mentioned.

M. What did she give you?

The reply is again left to the child's fancy.

M. Where's my share?

C. The cat ate it. What's in that box, mother?

M. Twopence, my child.

C. What for, mother?

M. To buy a stick to beat you, and a rope to hang you, my child.

The child at this tries to snatch at the box, the mother chases her until she has caught her (when there are several children, until she has caught one), she then pretends to beat her, and puts her hands around her neck as if she were going to hang her.

HERE I SIT ON A COLD GREEN BANK.

The children form a ring around one of the party, who sits in the middle, and says:

"Here I sit on a cold green bank,
On a cold and frosty morning."

Then those in the circle dance round her, singing:

"We'll send a young man (or woman) to take you away,
To take you away, to take you away;
We'll send a young man to take you away,
On a cold and frosty morning."

Child. "Pray tell me what his name shall be?"

Or,

"Pray, whom will you send to take me away?"

Circle. "We'll send Mr. ---- to take you away."

This is repeated three times with the refrain, "On a cold," etc. after which the dancing and singing cease, and the child is asked, "Sugar, sweet, or vinegar, sour?" Her answer is always taken in a contrary sense, and sung, as before, three times, whilst the children circle round. The one in the middle then rises to her feet. The boy (or girl) named advances and kisses her, they change places, and the game begins again.

JOGGLE ALONG.

This is a very favourite open-air game. To play it there must be an uneven number. He (or she) stands in the middle, whilst the others, arm in arm, circle around him singing:--

"Come all ye young men, with your wicked ways,
Sow all your wild oats in your youthful days,
That we may live happy, that we may live happy,
That we may live happy when we grow old.
The day is far spent, the night's coming on,
Give us your arm, and we'll 'joggle along.'"
That we may live happy, etc., etc.

At the words "joggle along," they all drop the arm of the person they are leading, and try to catch the arm of the player in front of them, whilst the middle man tries at the same time to get a partner. Should he succeed, the player left without one takes his place. (Repeat.)

I am indebted to the Rev. S. Rundle, vicar of Godolphin, for another set of words to this game, which he calls--

THE JOLLY MILLER,

And, under this title, a lady, two years since, saw some children playing it at St. Ives, in Cornwall.

"There was a jolly miller, lived by himself,
By grinding corn he got his wealth;
One hand in the upper, the other in the bag,
As the wheel went round, they all called 'Grab.'"

In this county "Tom Tiddler's Ground" is known as "Mollish's Land," "Cat and Mouse" as "The Duffan Ring," and "Blind Man's Buff" as "Blind Buck-a-Davy." To this last the following words are repeated, which I have never seen in print. One of the players takes the blind person by the shoulders, and says:

"How many horses has your father got in his stables?"

A. Three.

"What colour are they?"

A. Red, white, and grey.

(Whirling him round.) "Then turn about, and twist about, and catch whom you may."

To make barley bread (in other districts, "Cockley bread") this rhyme is used in West Cornwall:--

"Mother has called, mother has said,
'Make haste home, and make barley bread.'
Up with your heels, down with your head,
That is the way to make barley bread."

BOBBY BINGO.

Of this, which is a very common game at school-treats in some parts of West Cornwall, I have only lately, through the kindness of the Rev. S. Rundle, succeeded in getting a description. He saw some children, in 1884, playing it in his parish (Godolphin, Helston). A ring is formed, into the middle of which goes a child holding a stick, the others with joined hands run round in a circle, singing--

"There was a farmer had a dog,
His name was Bobby Bingo;
B. I. N. G. O.,
His name was Bobby Bingo."

When they have finished singing they cease running, whilst the one in the centre pointing with his stick asks them in turn to spell Bingo. If they all spell it correctly they again move round singing; but, should either of them make a mistake, he or she has to take the place of the middle man.

WEIGH THE BUTTER, WEIGH THE CHEESE,

is rather dangerous, and now but rarely played. Two children stand back to back with their arms locked. One stoops as low as he can, supporting the other on his back, and says, "Weigh the butter;" he rises, and the second stoops in his turn with "Weigh the cheese." The first repeats with "Weigh the old woman;" and it ends by the second, with "Down to her knees."

LIBBETY, LIBBETY, LIBBETY-LAT.

A game of a very different character, which pleases young children. The child stands before a hassock, and as if he were going up-stairs puts on it first his right and then his left foot, gradually quickening his steps, keeping time to the words:--

"Libbety, libbety, libbety-lat,
Who can do this? and who can do that?
And who can do anything better than that?"

This ends the games in which children of both sexes join. I must next give those exclusively for boys. I will begin by a very old one:

SHIP SAIL

is a game usually played with marbles; one boy puts his hand into his trousers pocket and takes out as many marbles as he feels inclined; he closes his fingers over them, and holds out his hand with the palm down to the opposite player, saying, "Ship sail, sail fast. How many men on board?" A guess is made by his opponent; if less, he has to give as many marbles as will make up the true number; if more, as many as he said over. But should the guess be correct he takes them, and then in his turn says "Ship sail," etc.

BUCK SHEE, BUCK,

is another game of chance, and is generally played by three boys in the following way. One stands with his back to a wall, the second stoops down with his head against the stomach of the first boy, "forming a back," the third jumps on it, and holds up his hand with the fingers distended, saying--

"Buck shee, buck, shee buck,
How many fingers do I hold up?"

Should the stooper guess correctly, they all change places and the jumper forms the back. Another and not such a rough way of playing this game is for the guesser to stand with his face towards a wall, keeping his eyes shut.

Leap-frog is known in Cornwall as "Leap the long-mare," and there is a curious variation of it called--

ACCROSHAY.

A cap or small article is placed on the back of the stooping boy by each in turn as he jumps over him. The first as he jumps says "Accroshay," the second "Ashotay," the third "Assheflay," and the last "Lament, lament, Leleeman's (or Leleena's) war." The boy who in jumping knocks off either of the things has to take the place of the stooper.

BUCKEY-HOW.

For this the boys divide into sides; one "stops at home," the other goes off to a certain distance agreed on beforehand and shouts "Buckey-how." The boys "at home" then give chase, and, when they succeed in catching an adversary, they bring him home and there he stays until all on his side are caught, when they in turn become the chasers.

CUTTERS AND TRUCKLERS (SMUGGLERS).

A remembrance of the old smuggling days. The boys divide into two parties; the "trucklers" try to reach some given point before the cutter catches them.

MARBLE PLAYING

is a favourite recreation with the young fishermen in West Cornwall; "Pits" and "Towns" are the common games. Boys who hit their nails are looked on with great contempt, and are said "to fire Kibby." When two are partners and one in playing accidentally hits the other's marble, he cries out "no custance," meaning that he has a right to put back the marble struck; should he fail to do so, it would be considered out of the game. To steal marbles is "to strakey."

To make ducks and drakes with a stone on the water is in Cornwall called "Tic-Tac-Mollard."

COCK-HAW.

This game is, I believe, known in other counties as "Cob-nut," but in Cornwall the boys give the name of "Victor-nut" to the fruit of the common hazel, and play it to the words:

"Cock-haw! First blaw! Up hat! Down cap! Victor!"

The nut that cracks another is called a "cock battler."

Children under the title of "Cock battler" often in country walks play a variation of Cock-haw with the "Hoary plantain," which they hold by the tough stem about two inches from the head; each in turn tries to knock off the head of his opponent's flower.

WINKY-EYE.

A rural game, played in the spring. An egg taken from a bird's nest is placed on the ground, at some distance off--the number of paces having been previously fixed. Blindfolded, one after the other, the players attempt with a stick to hit and break it.

UPPA, UPPA HOLYE (pronounced oopa, oopa holly).

When the writer was a boy, the following were the words used in the boys' game of fox-hunting. When the hounds (the boys) were "at fault" the leader cried--

"Uppa, uppa holye,
If you don't speak
My dogs shan't folly."

(East Cornwall. F. W. P. Jago, M.B., Plymouth.)

Boys here, as probably elsewhere, are very fond of hitting each other and then running away, shouting--

"Last blaw, never graw,
For seven years to come."

The old Cornish game of "Hurling" I have already described under the head of "Feasten Customs." Cricket, football, and lawn tennis are of course played in Cornwall.

TOM TODDY,

an old drinking game, now I expect known to but few. Each person in succession has to drink a glass of beer or spirits, on the top of which a piece of lighted candle has been put, whilst the others sing--

"Tom Toddy es come hoam, come hoam,
Tom Toddy es come hoam,
Weth es eyes burnt, and his nawse burnt,
And es eye-lids burnt also.
Tom Toddy es," etc.

Specimens of Cornish Provincial Dialect.--Uncle Jan Trenoodle.

Of the old dance "Letterpooch," the name only is remembered.

BALLADS, Etc.

There are a few well-known old Cornish ballads, which have already been printed and reprinted; my apology for again introducing them here, must be, that a work of this kind would not be complete without them. "John Dory," "An old ballad on a Duke of Cornwall's Daughter," "The Stout Cripple of Cornwall," and "The Baarley Mow," may all be found in Specimens of Cornish Provincial Dialect, by Uncle Jan Trenoodle (Sandys); "Tweedily, Tweedily, Twee,"--Through Rev. S. Rundle, in Transactions Penzance Natural History and Antiquarian Society, 1887-88; "Ye sexes give ear to my fancy," T. Q. Couch, Polperro, Cornwall; and "A fox went forth one moonshining night," Edward Pole, in Notes and Queries, 1854; "The Long Hundred," a song of Numbers, W. Pengelly, Notes and Queries, 1873; "When shall we be married?" which I heard many years ago in Scilly, and of which I only remember three verses, I have never seen in print.

The Rev. S. Baring Gould, M.A., is now making a collection of the "Traditional Ballads and Songs of the West of England." Part I. has been published; it contains "Sweet Nightingale," said to be a favourite with the miners of Cornwall and Devon; this must be in North Cornwall, as the nightingale is unknown in the western part of the county, scared away, according to the country-folk, "by the sweet singing of its men and women." And "The Hunting of Arscott of Tetcot," of which as it has been recast, I will only transcribe the first four lines.

"In the month of November, in the year fifty-two (1652),
Three jolly fox-hunters, all sons of the blue,
Came o'er from Pencarrow, not fearing a wet coat,
To have some diversion, with Arscott of Tetcot," etc.

"Trelawny" was for many years supposed to be a genuine old Cornish ballad, and as such was accepted and admired by several well-known literary men; but it was written by the late Rev. R. Hawker, Vicar of Morwenstowe; only the lines--

"And shall Trelawny die?
Here's twenty thousand Cornishmen,
Will know the reason why!"--

being ancient.

JOHN DORY.

As it fell on a holy day,
And upon a holytide a:
John Dory brought him an ambling nag,
To Paris for to ride a.

And when John Dory to Paris was come,
A little before the gate a;
John Dory was fitted, the porter was witted,
To let him in thereat a.

The first man that John Dory did meet,
Was good King John of France a;
John Dory could well of his courtesie,
But fell down in a trance a.

A pardon, a pardon, my liege and my king,
For my merry men and for me a:
And all the churls in merry England
I'll bring them bound to thee a.

And Nichol was then a Cornish man
A little beside Bohyde a;
He manned him forth a goodly bark,
With fifty good oars of a side a.

Run up, my boy, into the main top,
And look what thou can'st spy a;
Who, ho! who, ho! a good ship do I see,
I trow it be John Dory a.

They hoist their sails both top and top,
The mizen and all was tried a,
And every man stood to his lot,
Whatever should betide a.

The roaring cannons then were plied,
And dub-a-dub went the drum a:
The braying trumpets loud they cried,
To courage both all and some a.

The grappling hooks were brought at length,
The brown bill and the sword a;
John Dory at length, for all his strength,
Was clapt fast under board a.

This song is mentioned by Carew in his Survey of Cornwall; in it he says--"the prowesse of one Nicholas, sonne to a widdow neere Foy is deskanted upon." (He was one of the "Fowey gallants.")

AN OLD BALLAD,

ON A DUKE OF CORNWALL'S DAUGHTER;

WHO AFTER HER MARRIAGE TO A KING OF ALBION, WAS DIVORCED FOR THE SAKE OF A FAVOURITE MISTRESS; AND HER EXEMPLARY REVENGE ON THEM BOTH.

When Humber in his wrathful rage
King Albanact in field had slain,
Whose bloody broils for to assuage,
King Locrin then applied his pain;
And with a host of Britons stout,
At length he found king Humber out:

At vantage great he met him then,
And with his host beset him so,
That he destroyed his warlike men,
And Humber's power did overthrow;
And Humber, which for fear did fly,
Leapt into a river desp'rately;

And being drowned in the deep,
He left a lady there alive,
Which sadly did lament and weep,
For fear they should her life deprive.
But by her face that was so fair,
The king was caught in Cupid's snare:

He took this lady to his love,
Who secretly did keep it still;
So that the queen did quickly prove,
The king did bear her most good will:
Which though by wedlock late begun,
He had by her a gallant son.

Queen Guendolin was griev'd in mind,
To see the king was alter'd so:
At length the cause she chanc'd to find,
Which brought her to much bitter woe.
For Estrild was his joy (God wot),
By whom a daughter he begot.

The Duke of Cornwall being dead,
The father of that gallant queen:
The king with lust being overlaid,
His lawful wife he cast off clean:
Who with her dear and tender son,
For succour did to Cornwall run.

Then Locrin crowned Estrild bright,
And made of her his lawful wife:
With her which was his heart's delight,
He sweetly thought to lead his life.
Thus Guendolin, as one forlorn,
Did hold her wretched life in scorn.

But when the Cornish men did know
The great abuse she did endure,
With her a number great did go,
Which she by prayer did procure.
In battle then they march'd along,
For to redress this grievous wrong.

And near a river called Store,
The king with all his host she met;
Where both the armies fought full sore,
But yet the queen the field did get:
Yet ere they did the conquest gain,
The king was with an arrow slain.

Then Guendolin did take in hand,
Until her son was come to age,
The government of all the land;
But first her fury to assuage,
She did command her soldiers wild,
To drown both Estrild and her child.

Incontinent then they did bring
Fair Estrild to the river-side,
And Sabrine, daughter to a king,
Whom Guendolin could not abide;
Who being bound together fast,
Into the river they were cast:

And ever since that running stream
Wherein the ladies drowned were,
Is called Severn through the realm,
Because that Sabrine died there.
Thus those that did to lewdness bend,
Were brought unto a woful end.

YE SEXES GIVE EAR.

Ye sexes give ear to my fancy;
In the praise of good women I sing.
It is not of Doll, Kate, nor Nancy,
The mate of a clown nor a king.

Old Adam when he was created,
Was lord of the universe round;
But his happiness was not completed,
Until that a helpmate was found.

He had all things for food that was wanting,
Which give us content in this life;
He had horses and foxes for hunting,
Which many love more than a wife.

He'd a garden so planted by nature,
As man can't produce in this life;
But yet the all-wise great Creator
Saw still that he wanted a wife.

Old Adam was laid in a slumber,
And there he lost part of his side;
And when he awoke, in great wonder
He beheld his most beautiful bride.

With transport he gazed all on her,
His happiness then was complete;
And he blessed the bountiful Donor,
Who on him bestowed a mate.

She was not took out of his head,
To reign or to triumph o'er man:
She was not took out of his feet,
By man to be trampled upon.

But she was took out of his side,
His equal and partner to be:
Though they are united in one,
Still the man is the top of the tree.

Then let not the fair be despised
By man, as she's part of himself;
For a woman by Adam was prized
More than the whole world with its pelf.

Then man without woman's a beggar,
Tho' of the whole world he's possessed;
And a beggar that has a good woman,
With more than the world he is blest.

A FOX WENT FORTH.

A fox went forth one moonshining night,
And he prayed to the moon to give him good light,
For he'd many miles to trot that night,
Before he got home to his den O,
His den O, his den O.
For he'd many miles to trot that night,
Before he got home to his den O.

And when he came unto a wood,
As on his hinder legs he stood,
A little bit of goose will do me good,
Before I get home to my den O.
My den O, my den O.

So off he set to a farmer's yard,
The ducks and the geese were all of them scared;
The best of you all shall grease my beard,
Before I get home to my den O.

He seized the great goose by the neck
And flung it all across his back,
The young ones cried out, quack, quack, quack,
And the fox went home to his den O.

Old mother Slipper-slopper jumped out of bed,
She open'd the window and popp'd out her head,--
John! John! John! the great goose is dead.
And the fox has gone home to his den O.

So John went up unto a hill,
And blew his horn both loud and shrill;
Says the fox This is very pretty music, still
I'd rather be safe in my den O.

But when he came unto the den,
Where he had young ones, nine and ten,
Crying out, Daddy Fox, you must go there again,
For we think its a lucky town O.

The fox and his wife they had such a strife,
They never ate a better goose in all their life;
They tore it abroad, without fork or knife,
And the little ones pick'd the bones O.

TWEEDILY, TWEEDILY, TWEE (North Cornwall).

There was an old couple and they were poor;
They lived in a house that had but one door,
Tweedily, tweedily, twee.

Now this old man went far from home,
And left his old wife to stay at home,
Tweedily, tweedily, twee.

Now this old man came home at last,
And found his door and windows fast,
Tweedily, tweedily, twee.

Ah, I've bin sick whilst you've gone,
If you'd bin in the garden you could've heard me groan.
Tweedily, tweedily, twee.

An I'm sorry for that, cries he;
An I'm sorry for that, cries he;
Tweedily, tweedily, twee.

Then pluck me an apple from yonder tree,
That will I willingly do, cries he;
That will I willingly do, cries he;
Tweedily, tweedily, twee.

Pop goes the ladder, and down goes he,
An that's cleverly done, cries she;
An that's cleverly done, cries she;
Tweedily, tweedily, twee.

WHEN SHALL WE BE MARRIED?

When shall we be married, Willy, my pretty lad?
To-morrow if you think it fit.
Not before to-morrow, Willy, my pretty lad?
Would you have me be married to-night?
I should think the girl was mad.

What shall we have for dinner, Willy, my pretty lad?
Roast beef and plum pudding if you think it fit.
Shan't we have anything else, Willy, my pretty lad?
Would you have me to spend all my money?
I should think the girl was mad.

Who shall we have to dinner, Willy, my pretty lad?
Father and mother, if you think it fit.
Shan't we have anyone else, Willy, my pretty lad?
Would you have me ask the king and queen?
I should think the girl was mad.

SWEET NIGHTINGALE.

My sweetheart, come along,
Don't you hear the fond song,
The sweet notes of the nightingale flow?
Don't you hear the fond tale
Of the sweet nightingale,
As she sings in the valley below?

Pretty Betty, don't fail,
For I'll carry your pail
Safe home to your cot as we go;
You shall hear the fond tale
Of a sweet nightingale,
As she sings in the valley below.

Pray let me alone,
I have hands of my own,
Along with you, Sir, I'll not go,
To hear the fond tale
Of the sweet nightingale,
As she sings in the valley below.

Pray sit yourself down
With me on the ground,
On this bank where the primroses grow;
You shall hear the fond tale
Of the sweet nightingale,
As she sings in the valley below.

The couple agreed,
And were married with speed,
And soon to the church did they go;
No more is she afraid
For to walk in the shade,
Nor sit in those valleys below.

THE STOUT CRIPPLE OF CORNWALL.

WHEREIN IS SHEWED HIS DISSOLUTE LIFE AND DESERVED DEATH.

Of a stout cripple that kept the high-way,
And begg'd for his living all time of the day,
A story I'll tell you that pleasant shall be,
The Cripple of Cornwall surnamed was he.

He crept on his hands and his knees up and down,
In a torn jacket and a ragged torn gown,
For he had never a leg to the knee;
The Cripple of Cornwall surnamed was he.

He was of a stomach courageous and stout,
For he had no cause to complain of the gout;
To go upon stilts most cunning was he,
With a staff on his neck most gallant to see.

Yea, no good fellowship would he forsake,
Were it in secret a horse for to take;
His stool he kept close in a hollow tree,
That stood from the city a mile, two, or three.

Thus all the day long he begg'd for relief,
And all the night long he played the false thief;
For seven years together this custom kept he,
And no man knew him such a person to be.

There were few graziers went on the way,
But unto the Cripple for passage did pay,
And every brave merchant that he did descry,
He emptied their purses ere they did pass by.

The noble Lord Courtney, both gallant and bold,
Rode forth with great plenty of silver and gold,
At Exeter there a purchase to pay,
But that the false Cripple the journey did stay.

For why, the false Cripple heard tidings of late,
As he sat for alms at the nobleman's gate;
This is, quoth the Cripple, a booty for me,
And I'll follow it closely as closely may be.

Then to his companions the matter he mov'd,
Which their false actions before had prov'd;
They make themselves ready, and deeply they swear
The money's their own before they come there.

Upon his two stilts the Cripple did mount,
To have the best share it was his full account,
All clothed in canvass down to the ground,
He took up his place his mates with him round.

Then came the Lord Courtney with half-a-score men,
Yet little suspecting these thieves in their den,
And they perceiving them come to their hand,
In a dark evening bid them to stand.

Deliver thy purse, quoth the Cripple, with speed,
We be good fellows and therefore have need,
Not so, quoth Lord Courtney, but this I'll tell ye,
Win it and wear it, else get none of me.

With that the Lord Courtney stood in his defence,
And so did his servants, but, ere they went hence,
Two of the true men were slain in this fight,
And four of the thieves were put to the flight.

And while for their safeguard they run thus away,
The jolly bold Cripple did hold them in play,
And with his pike-staff he wounded them so,
As they were unable to run or to go.

With fighting the Lord Courtney was out of breath,
And most of his servants were wounded to death,
Then came other horsemen riding so fast,
The Cripple was forced to fly at the last.

And over a river that run there beside,
Which was very deep, and eighteen foot wide,
With his long staff and his stilts leaped he,
And shifted himself in an old hollow tree;

Then throughout the city was hue and cry made,
To have these thieves apprehended and staid;
The Cripple he creeps on his hands and his knees,
And in the high-way great passing he sees.

And as they came riding he begging doth say,
O give me one penny, good masters, I pray,
And thus unto Exeter creeps he along,
No man suspecting that he had done wrong.

Anon the Lord Courtney he spies in the street,
He comes unto him and kisses his feet,
God save your honor and keep you from ill,
And from the hands of your enemies still.

Amen, quoth Lord Courtney, and therewith threw down
Unto the poor Cripple an English crown,
Away went the Cripple, and thus he did think,
Five hundred pounds more will make me to drink.

In vain that hue and cry it was made,
They found none of them though the country was laid,
But this grieved the Cripple night and day,
That he so unluckily missed of his play.

Nine hundred pounds this Cripple had got
By begging and thieving, so good was his lot;
A thousand pound he would make it, he said,
And then he would give over his trade.

But as he striv'd his mind to fulfil,
In following his actions so lewd and so ill,
At last he was taken the law to suffice,
Condemned and hanged at Exeter 'size.

Which made all men amazed to see
That such an impudent cripple as he
Should venture himself such actions as they,
To rob in such sort upon the high-way.

THE BAARLEY MOW (a harvest song).

Here's a health to the baarley mow, my braave boys,
Here's a health to the baarley mow.
We'll drenk et out of the jolly brown boul,
Here's a health to the baarley mow.

Chorus.

Here's a health to the baarley mow, my braave boys,
Here's a health to the baarley mow.

We'll drenk et out of the nepperkin, [37] boys,
Here's a health to the baarley mow.
The nepperkin, and the jolly brown boul.