We'll drink it out of the pint, my brave boys, Here's a health to the barley-mow!

The pint, the half-a-pint, &c.

Cho. Here's a health, &c.

We'll drink it out of the quart, my brave boys, Here's a health to the barley-mow!

The quart, the pint, &c.

Cho. Here's a health, &c.

We'll drink it out of the pottle, my boys,
Here's a health to the barley-mow!

The pottle, the quart, &c.

Cho. Here's a health, &c.

We'll drink it out of the gallon, my boys,

Here's a health to the barley-mow!

The gallon, the pottle, &c.

We'll drink it out of the half-anker, boys,

Here's a health to the barley-mow!

The half-anker, gallon, &c.

Cho. Here's a health, &c.

We'll drink it out of the anker, my boys,

Here's a health to the barley mow!

The anker, the half-anker, &c..

We'll drink it out of the half-hogshead, boys,

Here's a health to the barley-mow!

The half-hogshead, anker, &c.

Cho.

Here's a health, &c.

We'll drink it out of the hogshead, my boys,

Here's a health to the barley-mow! The hogshead, the half-hogshead, &c.

We'll drink it out of the pipe, my brave boys,
Here's a health to the barley-mow!

The pipe, the hogshead, &c.

Cho. Here's a health, &c.

We'll drink it out of the well, my brave boys,

Here's a health to the barley mow!

The well, the pipe, &c.

We'll drink it out of the river, my boys,
Here's a health to the barley-mow!

The river, the well, &c.

Cho. Here's a health, &c.

We'll drink it out of the ocean, my boys,
Here's a health to the barley-mow!

The ocean, the river, the well, the pipe, the hogshead,

the half-hogshead, the anker, the half-anker, the gallon, the pottle, the quart, the pint, the half-a-pint, the quarter-pint, the nipperkin, and the jolly brown bowl!

Cho. Here's a health to the barley-mow, my brave boys! Here's a health to the barley-mow!

The above verses are very much ad libitum, but always in the third line repeating the whole of the previously named measures; and, as the last verse is sometimes the ocean, we have concluded with it at length.

X.

The Craven Churn-Supper Song.

In some of the more remote dales of Craven it is customary at the close of the hay-harvest for the farmers to give an entertainment to their men; this is called the churn supper; a name which Eugene Aram says has its origin because it "has been from immemorial times, customary to produce at such suppers a great quantity of cream in a churn, and to circulate it in cups to each of the rustic company, to be eaten with bread." At these churnsuppers the masters and their families attend the entertainment, and share in the general mirth. The men on these occasions mask themselves, and dress in a grotesque manner, and are allowed the privilege of playing harmless practical jokes on their employers, &c. The churn-supper song varies in different dales, but the following used to be the most popular version. In the third verse there seems to be an allusion to the clergyman's taking tythe in kind, on which occasions it is customary for him to be accompanied by two or three men, and the parish clerk. The song has never before been printed.

God rest you, merry gentlemen!
Be not moved at my strain,
For nothing study shall my brain,
But for to make you laugh.

For I came here to this feast,

For to laugh, carouse, and jest,

And welcome shall be every guest, To drink his cup and can. Chorus. Be frolicksome, every one, Melancholy none;

This ale it is a gallant thing,

It cheers the spirits of a king;
It makes a dumb man strive to sing,
Aye, and a beggar play!

A cripple that is lame and halt,
And scarce a mile a day can walk,
When he feels the juice of malt,

Will throw his crutch away.

Cho. Be frolick some, &c.

"Twill make the parson forget his men,—
"Twill make his clerk forget his pen ;
"Twill turn a tailor's giddy brain,

And make him break his wand.

The blacksmith loves it as his life,-
It make the tinkler bang his wife,-
Aye, and the butcher seek his knife,

When he has it in his hand!

Cho. Be frolick some, &c.

So now to conclude, my merry boys, all,
Let's with strong liquor take a fall,

Although the weakest goes to the wall,

The best is but a play!

For water it concludes in noise,

Good ale will chear our hearts, brave boys,

Then put it round with a cheerful voice,
We meet not every day.

Cho. Be frolick some, &c.

XI.

The Rural Dance about the May-Pole.

THE most correct copy of this song is the one in The Westminster Drollery, Part II. p. 80. It is there called The Rural Dance about the May-pole, the tune, the first-figure dance at Mr. Young's ball, May 1671. The tune may be found in Chappell's National English Airs. The last verse in our copy is modern, and, we believe, was written by a comic song-writer, who, a few years ago, had the impudence to palm the whole song off, on those who knew no better, as his own composition.

COME, lasses and lads,

Take leave of your dads,

And away to the may-pole hie;

For every he

Has got him a she,

And the minstrel 's standing by.

For Willie has gotten his Jill,

And Johnny has got his Joan,

To jig it, jig it, jig it,

Jig it up and down.