The old woman died, and Sir Arthur was free, THERE WAS AN OLD MAN CAME OVER THE LEA. [THIS is a version of the Baillie of Berwick, which will be found in the Local Historian's Table-Book. It was originally obtained from Morpeth, and communicated by W. H. Longstaffe, Esq., of Darlington, who says, 'in many respects the Baillie of Berwick is the better edition-still, mine may furnish an extra stanza or two, and the ha! ha! ha! is better than heigho, though the notes suit either version.'] THERE was an old man came over the Lea, Ha-ha-ha-ha! but I won't have him.* He came over the Lea, A-courting to me, With his grey beard newly-shaven. My mother she bid me open the door: And he fell on the floor. My mother she bid me set him a stool: And he looked like a fool. My mother she bid me give him some beer: And he thought it good cheer. My mother she bid me cut him some bread: And I threw't at his head. * We should, probably, read 'he.' My mother she bid me light him to bed: And wished he were dead. My mother she bid me tell him to rise: And he opened his eyes. My mother she bid me take him to church: And left him in the lurch; With his grey beard newly-shaven. WHY SHOULD WE QUARREL FOR RICHES. [A VERSION of this very favourite song may be found in Ramsay's Tea-Table Miscellany. Though a sailor's song, we question whether it is not a greater favourite with landsmen. The chorus is become proverbial, and its philosophy has often been invoked to mitigate the evils and misfortunes of life.] OW pleasant a sailor's life passes, How Who roams o'er the watery main! But cheerfully spends all his gain. Then why should we quarrel for riches, A light heart, and a thin pair of breeches, The world is a beautiful garden, Enriched with the blessings of life, Which plenty too often breeds strife. When terrible tempests assail us, The courtier's more subject to dangers, No mortals than us can be greater, THE MERRY FELLOWS; OR, HE THAT WILL NOT MERRY, MERRY BE. [THE popularity of this old lyric, of which ours is the balladprinter's version, has been increased by the lively and appropriate music recently adapted to it by Mr. Holderness. The date of this song is about the era of Charles II.] NOW, since we're met, let's merry, merry be, And he that will not merry be, We'll pull him by the nose. Cho. Let him be merry, merry there, To be merry another year. He that will not merry, merry be, With a generous bowl and a toast, May he in Bridewell be shut And fast bound to a post. up, Let him, &c. go, He that will not merry, merry be, He that will not merry, merry be, [He that will not merry, merry be, THE OLD MAN'S SONG. [THIS ditty, still occasionally heard in the country districts, seems to be the original of the very beautiful song, The Downhill of Life. The Old Man's Song may be found in Playford's Theatre of Music, 1685; but we are inclined to refer it to an earlier period. The song is also published by D'Urfey, accompanied by two objectionable parodies.] F I live to grow old, for I find I go down, TF Let this be my fate in a country town:- In a country town, by a murmuring brook, With Horace and Plutarch, and one or two more With a pudding on Sunday, and stout humming liquor, When the days are grown short, and it freezes and snows, A fire (which once stirred up with a prong), With a courage undaunted may I face my last day; And when I am dead may the better sort say— ROBIN HOOD'S HILL. [RITSON speaks of a Robin Hood's Hill near Gloucester, and of a 'foolish song' about it. Whether this is the song to which he alludes we cannot determine. We find it in Notes and Queries, where it is stated to be printed from a MS. of the latter part of the last century, and described as a song well known in the district to which it refers.] YE E bards who extol the gay valleys and glades, The jessamine bowers, and amorous shades, Who prospects so rural can boast at your will, Yet never once mentioned sweet Robin Hood's Hill.' ANCIENT POEMS, ETC. 16 |