'Thou art my boy!' the old man said, 'For thou hast right well learned thy trade;This mill to thee I give,' he cried, -
And then he turned up his toes and died.
Ballad: JACK AND TOM. AN OULD BORDER DITTIE. (TRADITIONAL.)[THE following song was taken down from recitation in 1847. Of its history nothing is known; but we are strongly inclined to believe that it may be assigned to the early part of the seventeenth century, and that it relates to the visit of Prince Charles and Buckingham, under the assumed names of Jack and Tom, to Spain, in 1623. Some curious references to the adventures of the Prince and his companion, on their masquerading tour, will be found in Halliwell's LETTERS OF THE KINGS OF ENGLAND, vol. ii.]
I'M a north countrie-man, in Redesdale born, Where our land lies lea, and grows ne corn, -And such two lads to my house never com, As them two lads called Jack and Tom!
Now, Jack and Tom, they're going to the sea;I wish them both in good companie!
They're going to seek their fortunes ayont the wide sea, Far, far away frae their oan countrie!
They mounted their horses, and rode over the moor, Till they came to a house, when they rapped at the door;And out came Jockey, the hostler-man.
'D'ye brew ony ale? D'ye sell ony beer?
Or have ye ony lodgings for strangers here?'
'Ne, we brew ne ale, nor we sell ne beer, Nor we have ne lodgings for strangers here.'
So he bolted the door, and bade them begone, For there was ne lodgings there for poor Jack and Tom.
They mounted their horses, and rode over the plain; -Dark was the night, and down fell the rain;Till a twinkling light they happened to spy, And a castle and a house they were close by.
They rode up to the house, and they rapped at the door, And out came Jockey, the hosteler.
'D'ye brew ony ale? D'ye sell ony beer?
Or have ye ony lodgings for strangers here?'
'Yes, we have brewed ale this fifty lang year, And we have got lodgings for strangers here.'
So the roast to the fire, and the pot hung on, 'Twas all to accommodate poor Jack and Tom.
When supper was over, and all was SIDED DOWN, The glasses of wine did go merrily roun'.
'Here is to thee, Jack, and here is to thee, And all the bonny lasses in our countrie!'
'Here is to thee, Tom, and here is to thee, And look they may LEUK for thee and me!'
'Twas early next morning, before the break of day, They mounted their horses, and so they rode away.
Poor Jack, he died upon a far foreign shore, And Tom, he was never, never heard of more!
Ballad: JOAN'S ALE WAS NEW.
[OURS is the common version of this popular song; it varies considerably from the one given by D'Urfey, in the PILLS TO PURGEMELANCHOLY. From the names of Nolly and Joan and the allusion to ale, we are inclined to consider the song as a lampoon levelled at Cromwell, and his wife, whom the Royalist party nick-named 'Joan.'
The Protector's acquaintances (depicted as low and vulgar tradesmen) are here humorously represented paying him a congratulatory visit on his change of fortune, and regaling themselves with the 'Brewer's' ale. The song is mentioned in Thackeray's Catalogue, under the title of JOAN'S ALE'S NEW; which may be regarded as circumstantial evidence in favour of our hypothesis. The air is published in POPULAR MUSIC, accompanying three stanzas of a version copied from the Douce collection. The first verse in Mr. Chappell's book runs as follows:-There was a jovial tinker, Who was a good ale drinker, He never was a shrinker, Believe me this is true;And he came from the Weald of Kent, When all his money was gone and spent, Which made him look like a Jack a-lent.
And Joan's ale is new, my boys, And Joan's ale is new.]
THERE were six jovial tradesmen, And they all sat down to drinking, For they were a jovial crew;They sat themselves down to be merry;
And they called for a bottle of sherry, You're welcome as the hills, says Nolly, While Joan's ale is new, brave boys, While Joan's ale is new.
The first that came in was a soldier, With his firelock over his shoulder, Sure no one could be bolder, And a long broad-sword he drew:
He swore he would fight for England's ground, Before the nation should be run down;He boldly drank their healths all round, While Joan's ale was new.
The next that came in was a hatter, Sure no one could be blacker, And he began to chatter, Among the jovial crew:
He threw his hat upon the ground, And swore every man should spend his pound, And boldly drank their hearths all round, While Joan's ale was new.
The next that came in was a dyer, And he sat himself down by the fire, For it was his heart's desire To drink with the jovial crew:
He told the landlord to his face, The chimney-corner should be his place, And there he'd sit and dye his face, While Joan's ale was new.
The next that came in was a tinker, And he was no small beer drinker, And he was no strong ale shrinker, Among the jovial crew:
For his brass nails were made of metal, And he swore he'd go and mend a kettle, Good heart, how his hammer and nails did rattle, When Joan's ale was new!
The next that came in was a tailor, With his bodkin, shears, and thimble, He swore he would be nimble Among the jovial crew:
They sat and they called for ale so stout, Till the poor tailor was almost broke, And was forced to go and pawn his coat, While Joan's ale was new.
The next that came in was a ragman, With his rag-bag over his shoulder, Sure no one could be bolder Among the jovial crew.
They sat and called for pots and glasses, Till they were all drunk as asses, And burnt the old ragman's bag to ashes, While Joan's ale was new.
Ballad: GEORGE RIDLER'S OVEN.
[THIS ancient Gloucestershire song has been sung at the annual dinners of the Gloucestershire Society, from the earliest period of the existence of that institution; and in 1776 there was an Harmonic Society at Cirencester, which always opened its meetings with GEORGE RIDLER'S OVEN in full chorus.
