Subject: RE: Origins of The Wild Rover
From:
GUEST,Bruce O.
Date: 09 Mar 01 - 12:43 AM
[Miscounted. Here's what I've got typed up so far.] Old Courtier
[Roxburghe Ballads, from Le Prince d/Amour, 1660.]
An old song made by an old aged pate,
Of an old worshipful gentleman, had a wealthy estate,
That kept an old house at a bountiful rate,
And an old Porter to relieve poor people at his gate,
Like and old courtier of the Queen's,
And the Queen's old courtier.
With an old Lady whose anger one word asswageth,
Who every quarter paid his old servants their wages,
Who never knew what belonged to coachman, footman, nor pages,
But kept two and fifty men in blew caps and badges.
Like an old courtier, &c.
With an old study, stuft full of old learned books,
And an old parson, you may know him by his looks;
And an old butt'ry-hatch worn quite off the old hooks,
And an old kitchin that maintain'd half a doxen old cooks.
Like an old courtier, &c.
With an old hall hung with pikes, guns, and bows,
AAnd old blades and bucklers, had borne many shrowd blows,
With an old freezadoe coat to cover his trunck hose,
With an old cup of sherry to comfort his old nose.
Like an old courtier, &c.
When an old fashion, when Christmas was come,
To call in all his old neighbours with a bagpipe or a drum,
And good cheer enough to furnish out every old room,
And beer and ale would make a cat to speak, and a wise man dumb.
Like an old courtier, &c.
With an old faulkner, a huntsman, and a kennel of hounds,
That never hauked nor hunted but in his grand-father's old grounds,
Who like a wise man kept himself in his own old bounds,
And when he died gave each child a thousand old pounds.
Like an old courtier, &c.
But to his son and heir his lands he assign'd,
With an old will to charge him to keep the same bountiful minde,
To be good to his old tenants, and to his old neighbours kinde,
But in the next ditty you shall hear how he was inclin'de.
Like a new courtier of the King's,
And the King's new courtier. The New Courtier
With a flourishing gallant, who is newly come to his land,
Who keeps a brace of painted creatures at his own command,
And can take up readily a thousand pounds on his bond,
And drink in a new tavern, till he can neither go nor stand,
Like a new courtier, &c. With a new lady whose face is beautiful and fair,
Who never knew what belong'd to house-keeping nor care,
But purchas'd seven colour'd fans to play the wanton ayr,
And seventeen new dressings of other women's hair,
Like a new, &c.
With a new study full of pamphlets and playes,
With a new Chaplin, that drinks oftener than he prays,
With a new butt'ry-hatch opens once in five or six days,
With a new French cook to devise cickshaws and toys,
For the new, &c.
With a new hall builded where an old hall stood,
Hung round with new pictures, does the poore little good,
With a new shouel-board whereon never stood food,
With 22 fair chimnies never burnt coals nor wood.
For the new, &c.
With a new fashion when Christmas was drawing on,
Upon a new journey they must all to London be gon,
And leave none to keep house in the country, but their new man John,
Who relieves all his neighbours with a great thump on the back with a cold stone,
For the new, &c.
With a new gentleman-usher whose carriage is compleat,
With a new coachman, and two footmen to carry the meat,
With a new waiting geltlewoman whose dressing is very neat,
Who when he lady hath dined gives her fellow very little meat,
Like a new, &c.
When new titles of honor bought with his grand-faather's old gold,
For which most of his father's mannors were all sold,
And that's one cause housekeeping is grown so cold,
Yet this is the new course most of our new gallants hold.
Like new courtiers of the King's, and the King's new courtiers.
Thus have you heard of the old courtiers and the new,
And for the last I could wish never a word were true,
With these rude lines which I dedicate to you,
And these rude verrses I present to your view.
By the poor courtier of the King's, and the King's poor courtier.
The Old English Gentleman [nominally Hudson's, 1821, but I neglected to copy his text. In the interim here's that given by Ebsworth, 1876. I neglected to copy a version in a songbook of c 1800.]
I'll sing you a good old song, made by a good old pate,
Of a fine old English gentleman, who had an old estate,
And who kept up his old mansion, at a bountiful old rate;
With a good old porter to relieve the poor at his gate.
Like a fine old English gentleman, all of the olden time.
His hall so old was hung around with pikes, and guns and bows,
And swords, and good old bucklers, that had stood against old foes;
'Twas there "his worship" held his state in doublet and trunk hose,
And quaff'd his cup of good old sack, to warm his good old nose:
Like a fine old English gentleman, &c.
When winter's cold brought frost and snow, he open'd house to all;
And though three-score and ten his years, he featly led the ball;
Nor was the houseless wanderer e'er driven from his hall,
For, while he feasted all the great, he ne'er forgot the small:
Like a fine old English gentleman, &c.
But time, though sweet, is strong in flight, and years roll swiftly by;
And autumn's falling leaves proclaim'd, the old man - he must die!
He laid him down right tranquilly, gave up life's latest sigh;
While a heavy stillness reign'd around, and tears dimm'd every eye.
For this good old English gentlman &c.
Now surely this is better far than all the new parade
Or theatres and fancy balls, "At home," and masquerade;
And much more economical, when all the bills are paid:
Then leave your new vagaries off, and take up the old trade
Of a fine old English gentleman, &c.
The Fine Ould Irish Gentleman [Howe's Songs of Ireland, 1864]
I'll sing you a dacent song, that was made by a Paddy's pate,
Of a real old Irish gentleman who had a fine estate,
Whose mansion it was made of mud, with thatch and all complete, With a hole at the top thro' which the smoke graceful did retrate;
Hurrah for the Irish gentleman, the boy of the oulden time.
His walls so cold werre covered wid the devil a thing for show,
Except an ould shillelah, which had knocked down many a foe,
And there ould Barney sits at ease without a shoe or hose,
And quaffs his noggin of poteen to warm his big red nose,
Like a fine ould Irishman, the boy of the oulden time.
To Donnybrook his custom was, to go to ev'ry fair,
And tho' he'd seen a few score years, he still was young when there,
And while the rich they feasted him, he still among the poor
Would sing, and dance, and hurl, and fight, and make the spaleens roar,
Like a real ould Irish gentleman, the boy of the oulden time.
But och! mavrone! once at a row, ould Barney got a knock,
And one thaat kilt him, 'cause he could'nt -- overget the shock;
They laid him out so beautiful, and then set up a groan,
Och! Barney darlint, jewel, dear-- why did ye die? och hone!
Then they waked the Irish gentleman, the boy of the oulden time.
Tho' all things in their course must change, and seasons pass away,
Yet Irish hearts, of oulden time, were just as at this day.
Each Irish boy he took a pride to prove himself a man--
To serve a friend, and bate a foe, it always was the plan
Of a raal ould Irish gentleman, the boy of the oulden time.
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