First up jumped old Mother Crewe, Which she could easily reach with her tongue And she never was heard to lie, For she had been dumb from her birth; For honour of Arthur O'Bradley. O! rare Arthur O'Bradley! wonderful Arthur [O'Bradley! Then the parson led off at the top, And hopped home to his own fire-side: O! rare Arthur O'Bradley! wonderful Arthur [O'Bradley! THE PAINFUL PLOUGH. [THIS is one of our oldest agricultural ditties, and maintains its popularity to the present hour. It is called for at merry-makings and feasts in every part of the country. The tune is in the minor key, and of a pleasing character.] 'COME, all you jolly ploughmen, of courage stout and bold, That labour all the winter in stormy winds, and cold; To clothe the fields with plenty, your farm-yards to re new, [plough!' To crown them with contentment, behold the painful 'Hold! ploughman,' said the gardener, 'don't count your trade with ours, Walk through the garden, and view the early flowers; Also the curious border and pleasant walks go view,— There's none such peace and plenty performed by the plough!' 'Hold! gardener,' said the ploughman, 'my calling don't Each man for his living upon his trade relies; [despise, Were it not for the ploughman, both rich and poor would rue, For we are all dependent upon the painful plough. 'Adam in the garden was sent to keep it right, But the length of time he stayed there, I believe it was one night; Yet of his own labour, I call it not his due, Soon he lost his garden, and went to hold the plough. 'For Adam was a ploughman when ploughing first begun, The next that did succeed him was Cain, the eldest son; Some of the generation this calling now pursue; That bread may not be wanting, remains the painful plough. 'Samson was the strongest man, and Solomon was wise, Alexander for to conquer 'twas all his daily prise; King David was valiant, and many thousands slew, Yet none of these brave heroes could live without the plough! seas, 'Behold the wealthy merchant, that trades in foreign [at ease; And brings home gold and treasure for those who live With fine silks and spices, and fruits also, too, They are brought from the Indies by virtue of the plough. For they must have bread, biscuit, rice pudding, flour and peas, To feed the jolly sailors as they sail o'er the seas; 'I hope there's none offended at me for singing this, For it is not intended for anything amiss; If you consider rightly, you'll find what I say is true, For all that you can mention depends upon the plough.' THE USEFUL PLOW; OR, THE PLOWMAN'S PRAISE. [THE common editions of this popular song inform us that it is taken from an Old Ballad,' alluding probably to the dialogue given at page 264. This song is quoted by Farquhar.] A COUNTRY life is sweet! In moderate cold and heat, To walk in the air, how pleasant and fair! In every field of wheat, The fairest of flowers adorning the bowers, And every meadow's brow; To that I say, no courtier may Compare with they who clothe in grey, And follow the useful plow. They rise with the morning lark, And labour till almost dark; Then folding their sheep, they hasten to sleep; While every pleasant park [ing, Next morning is ringing with birds that are sing On each green, tender bough. With what content, and merriment, Their days are spent, whose minds are hent To follow the useful plow. The gallant that dresses fine, And drinks his bottles of wine, Were he to be tried, his feathers of pride, Which deck and adorn his back, Are tailors' and mercers', and other men dressers, For which they do dun them now. But Ralph and Will no compters fill For tailor's bill, or garments still, But follow the useful plow. Their hundreds, without remorse, Some spend to keep dogs and horse, Who never would give, as long as they live, Not two-pence to help the poor; Their wives are neglected, and harlots respected; This grieves the nation now; But 'tis not so with us that go Where pleasures flow, to reap and mow, And follow the useful plow. THE FARMER'S SON. [THIS Song, familiar to the dwellers in the dales of Yorkshire, was published in 1729, in the Vocal Miscellany; a collection of about four hundred celebrated songs. As the Miscellany was merely an anthology of songs already well known, the date of this song must have been some time anterior to 1729. It was republished in the British Musical Miscellany, or the Delightful Grove, 1796, and in a few other old song books. It was evidently founded on an old black-letter dialogue preserved in the Roxburgh collection, called A Mad Kinde of Wooing; or, a Dialogue between Will the Simple and Nan the Subtill, with their loving argument. To the tune of the New Dance at the Red Bull Playhouse. Printed by the assignees of Thomas Symcock.] 'S WEET Nelly! my heart's delight! For love, I profess, I can do no less, Though I'm but a farmer's son.' "No! I am a lady gay, 'Tis very well known I may Have men of renown, in country or town; Court Bridget or Sue, Kate, Nancy, or Prue, Their loves will soon be won; To marry a farmer's son.' 'My father has riches' store, Two hundred a year, and more; Beside sheep and cows, carts, harrows, and ploughs; is above threescore. His age And when he does die, then merrily I Shall have what he has won; Both land and kine, all shall be thine, 'A fig for your cattle and corn! 'Tis known very well, my name is Nell, 'Be not in such haste,' quoth she, Perhaps we may still agree; For, man, I protest I was but in jest! Come, prythee sit down by me; |
