 OLD
SONGS
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THE
TRAVELLER
I
TARRIED all night until the next day;
I
thought it high time to be jogging away;
I
asked the landlady what was to pay.
"Come,
kiss me, kind sir and go your way."
Sing
bug o' the
Dutch,
Li fal de
ding day,
I' in my
pocket but
one pennay.
I
saw some gentlemen throwing at dice,
I
see them throw them once or twice.
As
I stood by a-lookin' on,
They
took me to be some gentlemon.
Sing
bug o' the
Dutch,
Li fal de
ding day,
I' in my
pocket but
one pennay.
They
had a mind I should throw it again,
I
had the good fortune for to win.
If
they had a-won and I had lost
I
should had to pull out an empty puss.
Sing
bug o' the
Dutch,
Li fal de
ding day,
I' in my
pocket but
one pennay.
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The
story here told is fragmentary, and there were undoubtedly more
verses in the original poem.
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THE
COURTIN'
On
Thanksgivin' Day,
I've
heard them say,
I
mounted on my dapple gray,
And
away I rode to Stanton Green,
To
court one farmer's-daughter Jane.
Rarefala,
rarefala,
Whack for la
for
larry for la.
When
I arrived unto the hall,
Aloud
for my true love I did call;
And
I trust the servant led me in
That
I my courtship might begin.
Rarefala,
rarefala,
Whack for la
for
larry for la.
"My
mammy sent me here to woo,
And
I can fancy none but you.
If
you'll consent and marry me now,
I'll
treat you as well as I know how."
Rarefala,
rarefala,
Whack for la
for
larry for la.
"'Tis
I can reap and I can mow,
And
I can plough and I can sow;
And
away to market to sell my hay,
And
that'll bring me twopence a day."
Rarefala,
rarefala,
Whack for la
for
larry for la.
"Twopence
a day will never do,
For
I wear silks and satins too,
Besides
a coach to take the air" —
Oh,
curse the lady, she makes me stare!"
Rarefala,
rarefala,
Whack for la
for
larry for la.
"'Tis
silks and satins you shall wear,
Besides
a coach to take the air;
And
if you won't consent to marry me to-day,
I'll
take my Dobbin and ride away."
Rarefala,
rarefala,
Whack for la
for
larry for la.
"Pray,
young Johnny, take me now,
For
I can spin and milk your cow;
And
away to church on the Sabbath Day,
Johnny
and I and the dapple gray."
Rarefala,
rarefala,
Whack for la
for
Larry for la.
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This
song was sung at evening gatherings by a single voice. The parts
where the lady spoke were sung in a higher key than the rest.
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THE
BALLAD OF LORD LOVELL
As
sung in New England in 1830
Lord
Lovell he stood at his castle gate,
A-combing
his milk-white steed,
When
along came Lady Nancy Bell
To
wish her fond lover good speed.
"Oh,
where are you going, Lord Lovell?" she said,
"Oh,
where are you going?" said she.
"I'm
a-going, my Lady Nancy Bell,
Strange
countries for to see."
"Oh,
when will you be back?"
Lady
Nancy she said,
"Oh,
when will you be back?" said she.
"In
a year or two, or three at the most,
I
return to your fair bodee."
He
hadn't been gone but a year and a day
Strange
countries for to see,
When
languishing thoughts came into his mind,
Lady
Nancy Bell he would go see.
He
rode and he rode his milk-white steed,
Till
he came to fair London town,
And
there he heard St. Varney's bell,
And
the people mourning round.
"Is
there any one dead?" Lord Lovell he said;
"Is
there any one dead?" said he.
"The
Lord's daughter is dead," the lady replied;
"And
some call her the Lady Nancee."
He
ordered the grave to be opened forthwith,
And
the shroud to be folded down;
And
then he kissed her clay-cold cheeks
Till
the tears came trickling down.
Lady
Nancy she died, as it might be to-day,
Lord
Lovell he died to-morrow;
And
out of her grave there grew a red rose,
And
out of Lord Lovell's a brier.
They
grew and they grew, till they reached the church top,
And
so they could grow no higher;
And
there they twined in a true-lover's knot,
Which
true lovers always admire.
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THE
HUNTERS OF KENTUCKY
Ye've
heard of New Orleans,
Its
fame for wealth and beauty;
There's
girls of every hue, it seems,
From
snowy white to sooty.
We
made a little bank of cotton bags,
Not
that we were afraid of dying,
But
because we choose to rest
Unless
the game be flying.
Lord
Packingham, he made his brags,
If
he in flight was lucky,
He'd
have those girls and cotton bags
In
spite of old Kentucky.
Jackson
led us down to a cypress swamp,
Where
the ground was low and mucky.
There
stood John Bull in marshalled pomp,
Here
stood old Kentucky.
Jackson
he was wide awake,
And
was not scat at trifles;
And
well he knew
What
aim we take with our Kentucky rifles.
They
came so near we could see 'em wink;
We
thought it was time to stop 'em.
Oh,
'twould done you good I think
To
see Kentuckians drop 'em
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The
above is a fragment of a song sung in the time of Jackson's political
campaigns.
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THE
SONG OF THE DARBY RAM
As
I was goin' to Darby On a market's day,
I
saw the biggest ram, sir,
That
was ever fed on hay.
He
had four feet to go on,
And
also for to stand;
And
every foot he had, sir,
Would
cover an acre of land.
The
wool that grew on his belly
Went
dragging to the ground;
The
wool that grew on his back, sir,
Would
weigh ten thousand pound.
Taralal de do,
Taralal de diddledy,
Taralal de day.
The
butcher that butchered this ram, sir,
Was
drownded in his blood;
And
he that held the basin
Was
carried away in the flood.
The
man that owned this ram, sir,
Must
needs be very rich;
And
the man that made this song, sir,
He
died last year with the itch.
Taralal de do,
Taralal de diddledy,
Taralal de day.
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THOSE
YOUNG MEN
Those
young men that trot about the town,
You'd
think they were worth one thousand pound;
Look
in their pockets — not a penny you'll find;
False
and fickle is a young man's mind.
These
young men when they first begin to love,
It's
nothing but "My Honey" and "My Turtle-dove;"
But
once they are married, it's no such a thing;
It's
trouble, trouble, trouble, and it's trouble again.
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MARCHING
TO QUEBEC
The
singers marched, went through several odd manoeuvres, and the
couples, as they were chosen, joined hands, kissed, and went to their
seats.
We're
marching down to old Quebec,
Where
the drums are loudly beating;
We
shall meet with no attack,
For
the British are retreating,
The
war's all over,
So
we'll turn back,
Nevermore
to be parted;
We'll
open the ring, and choose a couple in,
For
we trust you're all true-hearted.
Now
you want a fine companion,
Want
to soothe the cares of life;
Now
you have a mind to marry,
Choose
you one and handsome wife;
Now
you're joined in love and friendship,
Love
and serve him while he's here;
Kiss,
and swear that you'll prove constant
So
long as he remains your dear.
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BILLY
BOY
Oh,
where have you been, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
Oh,
where have you been, charming Billy?
I
have been to seek a wife,
She's
the joy of my life;
But
she's a young thing, and cannot leave her ma.
Can
she sweep up the house, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
Can
she sweep up the house, charming Billy?
Yes;
she can sweep up the house,
Quick's
a cat can catch a mouse;
But
she's a young thing, and cannot leave her ma.
Can
she make mince-pies, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
Can
she make mince-pies, charming Billy?
Yes;
she can make mince-pies
With
a very few flies;
But
she's a young thing, and cannot leave her ma.
Second
Version.
Can
she make a pumpkin-pie, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
Can
she make a pumpkin-pie, charming Billy?
Yes;
she can make a pumpkin-pie,
Quick's
a cat can wink its eye;
And
she's a young thing, and cannot leave her mither.
Does
she light you up to bed, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
Does
she light you up to bed, charming Billy?
Yes;
she lights me up to bed
With
a nightcap on her head;
And
she's a young thing, and cannot leave her mither.
Oh,
how old is she, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
Oh,
how old is she, charming Billy?
Twice
six, twice seven,
Twice
twenty and eleven;
Isn't
she the young thing that cannot leave her mither!
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Neither
of these versions is Iike those given in the song collections. In old
times, after the usual verses had been sung, the singers, if they
were clever, would make up new ones.
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THE
BATTLE OF THE NILE
When
an old-time party wished to amuse itself, it would sometimes be
proposed that they all join in singing this battle-song. The words
were these: —
Where
were you all the while?
Oh,
I was at the battle of the Nile,
I
was there all the while.
Some
one then requests that the company sing the forty-ninth verse of that
song. The words are repeated. Other verses are called for, but the
joke is that every verse is the same as the first.
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