Chapter XXVI: Part IV

His absence and her serpent-shape,
The King had long deplored;
He now rejoiced to see them both
Again to him restored.

The Queen they wanted, whom they found
All pale and sore afraid,
Because she knew her power must yield
To Childy Wynd’s, who said:--

“Woe be to thee, thou wicked Witch,
An ill death mayest thou dee;
As thou my sister hast likened,
So likened shalt thou be.

“I will turn you into a Toad,
That on the ground doth wend;
And won, won, shalt thou never be,
Till this world hath an end.”

* * * * *

Now on the sand near Ida’s tower,
She crawls a loathsome Toad,
And venom spits on every maid
She meets upon her road.

The virgins all of Bambrough town,
Will swear that they have seen
This spiteful Toad, of monstrous size,
Whilst walking they have been.

All folks believe within the shire,
This story to be true;
And they all run to Spindleston,
The cave and trough to view.

This fact now Duncan Frasier,
Of Cheviot, sings in rhyme,
Lest Bambroughshire men should forget
Some part of it in time.

MERRY GESTES

A TRAGIC STORY

_There lived a sage in days of yore,
And he a handsome pigtail wore;
But wondered much, and sorrowed more,
Because it hung behind him._

_He mused upon this curious case,
And swore he’d change the pigtail’s place,
And have it hanging at his face.
Not dangling there behind him._

_Says he, “The mystery I’ve found,--
I’ll turn me round,”--he turned him round;
But still it hung behind him._

_Then round and round, and out and in,
All day the puzzled sage did spin;
In vain--it mattered not a pin--
The pigtail hung behind him._

_And right, and left, and round about,
And up, and down, and in, and out
He turned; but still the pigtail stout
Hung steadily behind him._

_And though his efforts never slack,
And though he twist, and twirl, and tack,
Alas! still faithful to his back,
The pigtail hangs behind him._

_William Makepeace Thackeray
From Chamisso_

LITTLE BILLEE

There were three sailors of Bristol city,
Who took a boat and went to sea.
But first with beef and captain’s biscuits
And pickled pork they loaded she.

There was gorging Jack and guzzling Jimmy,
And the youngest he was little Billee.
Now when they got as far as the Equator
They’d nothing left but one split pea.

Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy,
“I am extremely hungaree.”
To gorging Jack says guzzling Jimmy,
“We’ve nothing left, us must eat we.”

Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy,
“With one another we shouldn’t agree!
There’s little Bill, he’s young and tender,
We’re old and tough, so let’s eat he.

“Oh! Billy, we’re going to kill and eat you,
So undo the button of your chemie.”
When Bill received this information,
He used his pocket handkerchie.

“First let me say my catechism,
Which my poor mammy taught to me.”
“Make haste, make haste,” says guzzling Jimmy,
While Jack pulled out his snickersnee.

So Billy went up to the main top-gallant mast,
And down he fell on his bended knee.
He scarce had come to the twelfth commandment
When up he jumps. “There’s land I see:

“Jerusalem and Madagascar,
And North and South Amerikee:
There’s the British flag a-riding at anchor,
With Admiral Napier, K. C. B.”

So when they got aboard of the Admiral’s,
He hanged fat Jack and flogged Jimmee;
But as for little Bill he made him
The Captain of a Seventy-three.

_William Makepeace Thackeray_

BRIAN O’LINN

Brian O’Linn was a gentleman born,
His hair it was long and his beard unshorn,
His teeth were out and his eyes far in,--
“I’m a wonderful beauty,” says Brian O’Linn!

Brian O’Linn was hard up for a coat,
He borrowed the skin of a neighbouring goat,
He buckled the horns right under his chin,--
“They’ll answer for pistols,” says Brian O’Linn!

Brian O’Linn had no breeches to wear,
He got him a sheepskin to make him a pair,
With the fleshy side out and the woolly side in,--
“They are pleasant and cool,” says Brian O’Linn!

Brian O’Linn had no hat to his head,
He stuck on a pot that was under the shed,
He murdered a cod for the sake of his fin,--
“’T will pass for a feather,” says Brian O’Linn!

Brian O’Linn had no shirt to his back,
He went to a neighbour and borrowed a sack,
He puckered a meal-bag under his chin,--
“They’ll take it for ruffles,” says Brian O’Linn!

Brian O’Linn had no shoes at all,
He bought an old pair at a cobbler’s stall,
The uppers were broken and the soles were thin,--
“They’ll do me for dancing,” says Brian O’Linn!

Brian O’Linn had no watch for to wear,
He bought a fine turnip, and scooped it out fair,
He slipped a live cricket right under the skin,--
“They’ll think it is ticking,” says Brian O’Linn!

Brian O’Linn was in want of a brooch,
He stuck a brass pin in a big coackroach,
The breast of his shirt he fixed it straight in,--
“They’ll think it’s a diamond,” says Brian O’Linn!

Brian O’Linn went a-courting one night,
He set both the mother and daughter to fight,--
“Stop! stop!” he exclaimed, “if you have but the tin,
I’ll marry you both,” says Brian O’Linn!

Brian O’Linn went to bring his wife home,
He had but one horse, that was all skin and bone,
“I’ll put her behind me, as nate as a pin,
And her mother before me,” says Brian O’Linn.

Brian O’Linn and his wife and wife’s mother,
They all crossed over the bridge together,
The bridge broke down and they all tumbled in,--
“We’ll go home by water,” says Brian O’Linn!

DICKY OF BALLYMAN

On New Year’s Day, as I heard say,
Dicky he saddled his dapple grey;
He put on his Sunday clothes,
His scarlet vest, and his new made hose.
_Diddle dum di, diddle dum do,
Diddle dum di, diddle dum do!_

He rode till he came to Wilson Hall,
There he rapped, and loud did call;
Mistress Ann came down straightway,
And asked him what he had to say.

“Don’t you know me, Mistress Ann?
I am Dicky of Ballyman;
An honest lad, though I am poor,--
I never was in love before.

“I have an uncle, the best of friends,
Sometimes to me a fat rabbit he sends;
And many other dainty fowl,
To please my life, my joy, my soul.

“Sometimes I reap, sometimes I mow,
And to the market I do go,
To sell my father’s corn and hay,--
I earn my sixpence every day!”

“Oh, Dicky! you go beneath your mark,--
You only wander in the dark;
Sixpence a day will never do,
I must have silks, and satins, too!

“Besides, Dicky, I must have tea
For my breakfast, every day;
And after dinner a bottle of wine,--
For without it I cannot dine.”

“If on fine clothes our money is spent,
Pray how shall my lord be paid his rent?
He’ll expect it when ’tis due,--
Believe me, what I say is true.

“As for tea, good stirabout
Will do far better, I make no doubt;
And spring water, when you dine,
Is far wholesomer than wine.

“Potatoes, too, are very nice food,--
I don’t know any half so good:
You may have them boiled or roast,
Whichever way you like them most.”

This gave the company much delight,
And made them all to laugh outright;
So Dicky had no more to say,
But saddled his dapple and rode away.
_Diddle dum di, diddle dum do,
Diddle dum di, diddle dum do!_

THE BALLAD OF THE OYSTERMAN

It was a tall young Oysterman lived by the riverside,
His shop was just upon the bank, his boat was on the tide;
The daughter of a Fisherman, that was so straight and slim,
Lived over on the other bank, right opposite to him.

It was the pensive Oysterman that saw a lovely maid,
Upon a moonlight evening, a-sitting in the shade;
He saw her wave her handkerchief, as much as if to say,
“I’m wide awake, young Oysterman, and all the folks away.”

Then up arose the Oysterman, and to himself said he,
“I guess I’ll leave the skiff at home, for fear that folks should
see;
I read it in the story-book, that, for to kiss his dear,
Leander swam the Hellespont,--and I will swim this here.”

And he has leaped into the waves, and crossed the shining stream,
And he has clambered up the bank, all in the moonlight gleam;
Oh! there were kisses sweet as dew, and words as soft as rain,--
But they have heard her father’s step, and in he leaps again!

Out spoke the ancient Fisherman,--“Oh! what as that, my daughter?”
“’T was nothing but a pebble, sir, I threw into the water.”
“And what is that, pray tell me, love, that paddles off so fast?”
“It’s nothing but a porpoise, sir, that’s been a swimming past.”

Out spoke the ancient Fisherman,--“Now bring me my harpoon!
I’ll get into my fishing-boat, and fix the fellow soon.”
Down fell that pretty innocent, as falls a snow-white lamb,
Her hair drooped round her pallid cheeks, like seaweed on a clam.

Alas, for those two loving ones! she waked not from her swound,
And he was taken with the cramp, and in the waves was drowned;
But Fate has metamorphosed them, in pity of their woe,
And now they keep an oyster-shop for Mermaids down below.

_Oliver Wendell Holmes_

THE CINDER KING

Who is it that sits in the kitchen and weeps,
While tick goes the clock, and the tabby-cat sleeps,--
That watches the grate, without ceasing to spy
Whether purses or coffins will out of it fly?

’Tis Betty; who saw the false tailor, Bob Scott,
Lead a bride to the altar, which bride she was not.
’Tis Betty, determined love from her to fling,
And woo, for his riches, the dark Cinder-King.

Now spent tallow-candle-grease fattened the soil,
And the blue-burning lamp had half wasted its oil,
And the black-beetle boldly came crawling from far,
And the red coals were sinking beneath the third bar;

When _“one!”_ struck the clock--and instead of the bird
Who used to sing cuckoo whene’er the clock stirred,
Out burst a grim raven, and uttered _“caw! caw!”_
While Puss, though she woke, durst not put forth a claw.

Then the jack fell a-going as if one should sup,
Then the earth rocked as though it would swallow one up;
With fuel from Hell, a strange coal-scuttle came,
And a self-handled poker made fearful the flame.

A cinder shot from it, of size to amaze,
With a bounce, such as Betty ne’er heard in her days,
Thrice, serpent-like, hissed as its heat fled away,
And, lo! something dark in a vast coffin lay!

“Come, Betty,” quoth croaking that nondescript thing,
“Come, bless the fond arms of your true Cinder-King!
Three more Kings, my brothers, are waiting to greet ye,
Who--don’t take it ill--must at four o’clock eat ye.

“My darling! it must be, do make up your mind;
We element brothers, united, and kind,
Have a feast and a wedding, each night of our lives,
So constantly sup on each other’s new wives.”

In vain squalled the cook-maid, and prayed not to wed;
Cinder crunched in her mouth, cinder rained on her head.
She sank in the coffin with cinders strewn o’er,
And coffin nor Betty saw man any more.

_Modern, anon._

THE FROLICKSOME DUKE; OR, THE TINKER’S GOOD FORTUNE

Now, as fame does report, a young Duke keeps a Court,
One that pleases his fancy with frolicksome sport:
But amongst all the rest, here is one, I protest,
Which will make you to smile when you hear the true jest:
A poor Tinker he found, lying drunk on the ground,
As secure in a sleep as if laid in a swound.

The Duke said to his men, “William, Richard, and Ben,
Take him home to my palace; we’ll sport with him then.”
O’er a horse he was laid, and with care soon conveyed
To the palace, altho’ he was poorly arrai’d:
Then they stript off his cloaths, both his shirt, shoes, and hose,
And they put him to bed for to take his repose.

Having pulled off his shirt, which was all over durt,
They did give him clean holland, this was no great hurt:
On a bed of soft down, like a lord of renown,
They did lay him to sleep the drink out of his crown.
In the morning, when day, then admiring he lay,
For to see the rich chamber, both gaudy and gay.

Now he lay something late, in his rich bed of state,
Till at last Knights and Squires they on him did wait;
And the chamberling bare, then did likewise declare,
He desired to know what apparel he’d ware:
The poor Tinker amazed, on the gentleman gazed,
And admired how he to this honour was raised.

Tho’ he seemed something mute, yet he chose a rich suit,
Which he straitways put on without longer dispute;
With a star on his side, which the Tinker off’t eyed,
And it seemed for to swell him no little with pride;
For he said to himself, “Where is Joan my sweet wife?
Sure she never did see me so fine in her life.”

From a convenient place, the right Duke, his good grace,
Did observe his behaviour in every case.
To a garden of state, on the Tinker they wait,
Trumpets sounding before him: thought he, “This is great!”
Where an hour or two, pleasant walks he did view,
With Commanders and Squires in scarlet and blew.

A fine dinner was drest, both for him and his guests,
He was placed at the table above all the rest,
In a rich chair or bed lined with fine crimson red,
With a rich golden canopy over his head:
As he sat at his meat, the musick played sweet,
With the choicest of singing his joys to compleat.

While the Tinker did dine, he had plenty of wine,
Rich canary, with sherry and tent superfine.
Like a right honest soul, faith, he took off his bowl.
Till at last he began for to tumble and roul
From his chair to the floor, where he sleeping did snore,
Being seven times drunker than ever before.

Then the Duke did ordain, they should strip him amain,
And restore him his old leather garments again:
’T was a point next the worst, yet perform it they must,
And they carryed him strait where they found him at first:
Then he slept all the night, as indeed well he might;
But when he did waken, his joys took their flight.

For his glory to him so pleasant did seem,
That he thought it to be but a meer golden dream;
Till at length he was brought to the Duke, where he sought
For a pardon, as fearing he had set him at nought:
But his Highness he said, “Thou’rt a jolly bold blade:
Such a frolick before, I think, never was plaid.”

Then his Highness bespoke him a new suit and cloak,
Which he gave for the sake of this frolicksome joak:
Nay, and five-hundred pound, with ten acres of ground:
“Thou shalt never,” said he, “range the counteries round,
Crying ‘old brass to mend,’ for I’ll be thy good friend,
Nay, and Joan thy sweet wife shall my Duchess attend.”

Then the Tinker replyed; “What! must Joan my sweet bride
Be a Lady in chariots of pleasure to ride?
Must we have gold and land ev’ry day at command?
Then I shall be a Squire, I well understand:
Well I thank your good grace, and your love I embrace;
I was never before in so happy a case!”

KING JAMES THE FIRST AND THE TINKLER

And now, to be brief, let’s pass over the rest,
Who seldom or never were given to jest,
And come to King Jamie, the first of our throne,
A pleasanter Monarch sure never was known.

As he was a-hunting the swift fallow-deer,
He dropped all his nobles; and when he got clear,
In hope of some pastime away he did ride,
Till he came to an alehouse, hard by a wood-side.

And there with a Tinkler he happened to meet,
And him in kind sort he so freely did greet:
“Pray thee, good fellow, what hast in thy jug,
Which under thy arm thou dost lovingly hug?”

“By the mass!” quoth the Tinkler, “it’s nappy brown ale,
And for to drink to thee, friend, I will not fail;
For although thy jacket looks gallant and fine,
I think that my twopence as good is as thine.”

“By my soul! honest fellow, the truth thou hast spoke,”
And straight he sat down with the Tinkler to joke;
They drank to the King, and they pledged to each other;
Who’d seen ’em had thought they were brother and brother.

As they were a-drinking the King pleased to say,
“What news, honest fellow? come tell me, I pray?”
“There’s nothing of news, beyond that I hear
The King’s on the border a-chasing the deer.

“And truly I wish I so happy may be
Whilst he is a-hunting the King I might see;
For although I’ve travelled the land many ways
I never have yet seen a King in my days.”

The King, with a hearty brisk laughter, replied
“I tell thee, good fellow, if thou canst but ride,
Thou shalt get up behind me, and I will thee bring
To the presence of Jamie, thy sovereign King.”

“But he’ll be surrounded with nobles so gay,
And how shall we tell him from them, sir, I pray?”
“Thou’lt easily ken him when once thou art there;
The King will be covered, his nobles all bare.”

He got up behind him and likewise his sack,
His budget of leather, and tools at his back;
They rode till they came to the merry Greenwood,
His nobles came round him, bareheaded they stood.

The Tinkler then seeing so many appear,
He slily did whisper the King in his ear;
Saying, “They’re all clothed so gloriously gay,
But which amongst them is the King, sir, I pray?”

The King did with hearty good laughter, reply,
“By my soul! my good fellow, it’s thou or it’s I!
The rest are bareheaded, uncovered all round”--
With his bag and his budget he fell to the ground,

Like one that was frightened quite out of his wits,
Then on his knees he instantly gets,
Beseeching for mercy; the King to him said,
“Thou art a good fellow, so be not afraid.

“Come, tell thy name.” “I am John of the Dale,
A mender of kettles, a lover of ale.”
“Rise up, Sir John, I will honour thee here,--
I make thee a Knight of three thousand a year!”

This was a good thing for the Tinkler indeed;
Then unto the Court he was sent for with speed,
Where great store of pleasure and pastime was seen,
In the royal presence of King and of Queen.

Sir John of the Dale he has land, he has fee,
At the Court of the King who so happy as he?
Yet still in his hall hangs the Tinkler’s old sack,
And the budget of tools which he bore at his back.

KING ALFRED AND THE SHEPHERD