Adelaide Calvert (1836-1921), "Sixty-Eight Years on the Stage" (1911):

"About that time [1845-50] we had a servant, a middle aged woman, who had a peculiar hobby. She had been for years a collector of street ballads. They were printed upon long narrow strips of paper, and sold in the streets by hawkers, who carried them, hoisted on high, affixed to T shaped pieces of wood, from which they fluttered like streamers. They were usually about a yard long, and were sold at the price of one halfpenny. I used to hear her crooning these whilst she was doing her work, and my childlike curiosity was at once aroused. We had several confidential chats about these lyrics, and one day she took me into her room and showed me her collection. There were rolls and rolls of them. Of course, I wanted to read them, and was allowed that privilege, but they were certainly not 'milk for babes.' There were a few nautical ballads, but the majority of them recounted tales of adventure—highway robbery—burglary—coining—and even a case or two of murder. Claude Duval, Gentleman Jack, Dick Turpin, and Jack Sheppard were some of the heroes.

"With my aptitude for quick study, I committed a lot of these to memory, as I found them so extremely fascinating; but with the exception of a few disjointed lines, they have now completely faded from my remembrance. I can only recall one in its entirety, supposed to be written by a young gentleman sentenced to death, in a time when highway robbery was followed by the extreme penalty of the law. This poetic gem is, I think, worth quoting, as a curiosity.

   'At seventeen I took a wife,
    I loved her dearly, as I loved my life,
    And, to maintain her both fine and gay,
    I went a-robbin’ on the 'ighway!

"The gentleman evidently lived a dual life, as a verse later on says—         

    'I robbed much gold, I do declare,
    And got a place round by Grosvenor Square;
    I shut the shutters and bade them good-night,
    And then went home to my heart's delight.'

"After which he proceeds as follows—

   'To Covent Garden I went my way
   ?ll with my bloomin’ to see the play.
   There Fielding's gang did me pursue—
   Took unawares by that cursed crew!'

Fielding, it may be mentioned, was the celebrated Bow Street detective. Some very modest requests are embodied in the last two verses.

   'Oh! when I’m dead and in my grave,
   A decent funeral let me have:
   Six Highwaymen to carry me —
   Give them broadswords and sweet Liberty!

'Six blooming maids to bear my pall —
   Give them white gloves and ribbons all.
   And when I’m dead they’ll speak the truth -
   There's gone a wild and a wicked youth!

"I can remember just a fragment of another ballad entitled 'On the Banks of Sweet Dundee'...."