[An old and very favourite ditty sung in many parts of England at merry-makings, especially at those which occur during the hay- harvest. It is not in any collection.]

In the merry month of June, In the prime time of the year; Down in yonder meadows There runs a river clear: And many a little fish Doth in that river play; And many a lad, and many a la.s.s, Go abroad a-making hay.

In come the jolly mowers, To mow the meadows down; With budget and with bottle Of ale, both stout and brown, All labouring men of courage bold Come here their strength to try; They sweat and blow, and cut and mow, For the gra.s.s cuts very dry.

Here's nimble Ben and Tom, With pitchfork, and with rake; Here's Molly, Liz, and Susan, Come here their hay to make.

While sweet, jug, jug, jug!

The nightingale doth sing, From morning unto even-song, As they are hay-making.

And when that bright day faded, And the sun was going down, There was a merry piper Approached from the town: He pulled out his pipe and tabor, So sweetly he did play, Which made all lay down their rakes, And leave off making hay.

Then joining in a dance, They jig it o'er the green; Though tired with their labour, No one less was seen.

But sporting like some fairies, Their dance they did pursue, In leading up, and casting off, Till morning was in view.

And when that bright daylight, The morning it was come, They lay down and rested Till the rising of the sun: Till the rising of the sun, When the merry larks do sing, And each lad did rise and take his la.s.s, And away to hay-making.

Ballad: THE SWORD-DANCERS' SONG.

[Sword-dancing is not so common in the North of England as it was a few years ago; but a troop of rustic pract.i.tioners of the art may still be occasionally met with at Christmas time, in some of the most secluded of the Yorkshire dales. The following is a copy of the introductory song, as it used to be sung by the Wharfdale sword-dancers. It has been transcribed from a MS. in the possession of Mr. Holmes, surgeon, at Gra.s.sington, in Craven. At the conclusion of the song a dance ensues, and sometimes a rustic drama is performed. See post, p. 175. Jumping Joan, alluded to in the last verse, is a well-known old country dance tune.]

The spectators being a.s.sembled, the CLOWN enters, and after drawing a circle with his sword, walks round it, and calls in the actors in the following lines, which are sung to the accompaniment of a violin played outside, or behind the door.

The first that enters on the floor, His name is Captain Brown; I think he is as smart a youth As any in this town: In courting of the ladies gay, He fixes his delight; He will not stay from them all day, And is with them all the night.

The next's a tailor by his trade, Called Obadiah Trim; You may quickly guess, by his plain dress, And hat of broadest brim, That he is of the Quaking sect, Who would seem to act by merit Of yeas and nays, and hums and hahs, And motions of the spirit.

The next that enters on the floor, He is a foppish knight; The first to be in modish dress, He studies day and night.

Observe his habit round about, - Even from top to toe; The fashion late from France was brought, - He's finer than a beau!

Next I present unto your view A very worthy man; He is a vintner, by his trade, And Love-ale is his name.

If gentlemen propose a gla.s.s, He seldom says 'em nay, But does always think it's right to drink, While other people pay.

The next that enters on the floor, It is my beauteous dame; Most dearly I do her adore, And Bridget is her name.

At needlework she does excel All that e'er learnt to sew, And when I choose, she'll ne'er refuse, What I command her do.

And I myself am come long since, And Thomas is my name; Though some are pleased to call me Tom, I think they're much to blame: Folks should not use their betters thus, But I value it not a groat, Though the tailors, too, that botching crew, Have patched it on my coat.

I pray who's this we've met with here, That tickles his trunk wame? {39} We've picked him up as here we came, And cannot learn his name: But sooner than he's go without, I'll call him my son Tom; And if he'll play, be it night or day, We'll dance you JUMPING JOAN.

Ballad: THE SWORD-DANCERS' SONG AND INTERLUDE. AS NOW PERFORMED AT CHRISTMAS, IN THE COUNTY OF DURHAM.

[The late Sir Cuthbert Sharp remarks, that 'It is still the practice during the Christmas holidays for companies of fifteen to perform a sort of play or dance, accompanied by song or music.'

The following version of the song, or interlude, has been transcribed from Sir C. Sharp's Bishop.r.i.c.k Garland, corrected by collation with a MS. copy recently remitted to the editor by a countryman of Durham. The Devonshire peasants have a version almost identical with this, but laths are used instead of swords, and a few different characters are introduced to suit the locality.

The pageant called The Fool Plough, which consists of a number of sword-dancers dragging a plough with music, was anciently observed in the North of England, not only at Christmas time, but also in the beginning of Lent. Wallis thinks that the Sword Dance is the antic dance, or chorus armatus of the Romans. Brand supposes that it is a composition made up of the gleaning of several obsolete customs anciently followed in England and other countries. The Germans still practise the Sword Dance at Christmas and Easter. We once witnessed a Sword Dance in the Eifel mountains, which closely resembled our own, but no interlude, or drama, was performed.]

Enter Dancers, decorated with swords and ribbons; the CAPTAIN of the band wearing a c.o.c.ked hat and a peac.o.c.k's feather in it by way of c.o.c.kade, and the CLOWN, or 'BESSY,' who acts as treasurer, being decorated with a hairy cap and a fox's brush dependent.

The CAPTAIN forms with his sword a circle, around which walks.

The BESSY opens the proceedings by singing -

Good gentlemen all, to our captain take heed, And hear what he's got for to sing; He's lived among music these forty long year, And drunk of the elegant {40} spring.

The CAPTAIN then proceeds as follows, his song being accompanied by a violin, generally played by the BESSY -

Six actors I have brought Who were ne'er on a stage before; But they will do their best, And they can do no more.

The first that I call in He is a squire's son; He's like to lose his sweetheart Because he is too young.

But though he is too young, He has money for to rove, And he will spend it all Before he'll lose his love.

Chorus. Fal lal de ral, lal de dal, fal lal de ra ral da.

Followed by a symphony on the fiddle, during which the introduced actor walks round the circle.

The CAPTAIN proceeds -

The next that I call in He is a tailor fine; What think you of his work?

He made this coat of mine!

Here the CAPTAIN turns round and exhibits his coat, which, of course, is ragged, and full of holes.

So comes good master Snip, His best respects to pay: He joins us in our trip To drive dull care away.

Chorus and symphony as above.

Here the TAILOR walks round, accompanied by the SQUIRE'S SON. This form is observed after each subsequent introduction, all the new comers taking apart.

The next I do call in, The prodigal son is he; By spending of his gold He's come to poverty.

But though he all has spent, Again he'll wield the plow, And sing right merrily As any of us now. {41}

Next comes a skipper bold, He'll do his part right weel - A clever blade I'm told As ever pozed a keel.

He is a bonny lad, As you must understand; It's he can dance on deck, And you'll see him dance on land.

To join us in this play Here comes a jolly dog, Who's sober all the day - If he can get no grog.

But though he likes his grog, As all his friends do say, He always likes it best When other people pay.