Author Topic: Add: Adam and Eve


Posted - 23 Feb 08 - 03:17 pm

Adam and Eve could never believe
That Peter the miller was dead;    
Shut up in the tower for stealing of flour,
And never could get a reprieve,   
And never could get a reprieve.
They bored a hole in Oliver's nose,
And put therein a string,
And drew him round about the town
For murdering Charles our king,
For murdering Charles our king.

Broadwood, L, 1893, English County Songs, London, Leadenhall Press

Sung to the Stratton Church Chimes, Cornwall.

Lucy Broadwood's notes follow:

[Referring to the line "And never could get a reprieve"]
Possibly in the original this ran "And forced to lose his head."

Mr Kidson writes: This is evidently originally a nursery or nonsense rhyme, with what appears to be an addition or alteration as early as Cromwell's time. See Hone's Every Day Book, vol i, p 718, for a custom connected with with the subject of this song kept up as late as 1831 at Tiverton, Devon, on Restoration Day, May 29.  In Peter Buchan's Ancient Ballads of the North of Scotland (1828), is a nonsense song, one verse of which is:

I bought a wife in Edinburgh
For ae bawbie,
I got a farthing in again
To buy tobacco wi'.
We'll bore in Aaron's nose a hole
And put therein a ring,
And straight we'll lead him to and fro;
Yea, lead him in a string.

As Hone's book may not be too readily available, see Steve Roud's The English Year (ISBN 0-140-51554-2) for an account of other activities on Restoration Day (May 29th).  Tiverton is not explicitly named in his lists.

Jon Freeman

Posted - 24 Feb 08 - 09:24 am

I bought a wife in Edinburgh
For ae bawbie,
I got a farthing in again
To buy tobacco wi'.

I know those words as "My Johnny Lad". Here is a version Contemplator.

masato sakurai

Posted - 24 Feb 08 - 12:57 pm

From The Every-day Book and Table Book, vol. 1 (1830 ed.), pp. 718-19:
Another correspondent, "Amicus," who writes to the editor under his real name, favours the readers of this work with an account of a usage still preserved, on " Royal Oak day," in the west of England.

To the Editor of the Every-day Book.
At Tiverton Devon, on the 29th of May, it is customary for a number of young men, dressed in the style of the 17th century, and armed with swords, to parade the streets, and gather contributions from the inhabitants. At the head of the procession walks a man called " Oliver," dressed in black, with his face and hands smeared over with soot and grease, and his body bound by a strong cord, the end of which is held by one of the men to prevent his running too far. After these come another troop, dressed in the same style, each man bearing a large branch of oak: four others, carrying a kind of throne made of oaken boughs on which a child is seated, bring up the rear. A great deal of merriment is excited among the boys, at the pranks of master " Oliver," who capers about in a most ludicrous manner. Some of them amuse themselves by casting dirt, whilst others, more mischievously inclined, throw stones at him; but woe betide the young urchin who is caught; his face assumes a most awful appearance from the soot and grease with which "Oliver" begrimes it, whilst his companions, who have been lucky enough to escape his clutches, testify their pleasure by loud shouts and acclamations. In the evening the whole party have a feast, the expenses of which are defray ed by the collection made in the morning.
I am, sir, yours, most obediently,

masato sakurai

Posted - 24 Feb 08 - 01:17 pm

From Peter Buchan's Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland (1828, pp. 153-54):
Johnny, Lad.

I bought a wife in Edinburgh,
For ae bawbie;
I gat a farthing in again,
To buy tobacco wi'.

We'll bore in Aaron's nose a hole,
And put therein a ring;
And straight we'll lead him to and fro,
Yea, lead him in a string.
Chorus.-- And wi' you, and wi' you,
And wi' you, my Johnny, lad;
I'll drink the buckles o' my sheen,
Wi' you, my Johnny, lad.

When auld Prince Arthur ruled this land,
He was a thievish king;
He stole three bolls o' barley meal,
To make a white pudding.
And wi' you, &c.

The pudding it was sweet and good,
And stored well wi' plums;
The lumps o' suet into it,
Were big as baith my thumbs.
And wi' you, &c.

There was a man in Ninevah,
And he was wondrous wise;
He jumped into a hawthorn hedge,
And scratched out baith his eyes.
And wi' you, &c.

And when he saw his eyes were out,
He was sair vexed then;
He jump'd intill anither hedge,
And scratch'd them in again.
And wi' you, &c.

O Johnny's nae a gentleman,
Nor yet is he a laird;
But I would follow Johnny, lad,
Altho' he were a caird.
And wi 1 you, &c.

Johnny is a bonny lad,
He was ance a lad o' mine;
I never had a better lad,
And I've had twenty-nine.
And wi' you, &c.

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