1. “The Bonny Hinde”

O may she comes, and may she goes,
Down by yon gardens green,
And there she spied a gallant squire
As squire had ever been.

And may she comes, and may she goes,
Down by yon hollin tree
And there she spied a brisk young squire,
And a brisk young squire was he.

‘Give me your green manteel, fair maid,
Give me your maidenhead:
Gif ye winna gie me your green manteel,
Gi me your maidenhead.’

He has taen her by the milk-white hand,
And softly laid her down,
And when he’s lifted her up again,
Given her a silven kaim.

‘Perhaps there may be bairns, kind sir,
Perhaps there may be nane;
But if you be a courtier,
You’ll tell to me your name.’

‘I am nae courtier, fair maid,
But new come frae the sea;
I am nae courtier, fair maid,
But when I court ‘ith thee.

‘They call me Jack when I’m abroad,
Sometimes they call me John;
But when I am in my father’s bower
Jock Randal is my name.’

‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny lad,
Sae loud ‘s I hear ye lee!
For I’m Lord Randal’s yae daughter,
He has nae mair nor me.’

‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny may,
Sae loud ‘s I hear ye lee!
For I’, Lord Randal’s yae yae son,
Just now come oer the sea.’

She’s putten her hand down by her spare,
And out she’s taen a knife,
And she has putn’t in her heart’s bluid,
And taen away her life.

And he’s taen up his bonny sister,
With the big tear in his een,
And he has buried his bonny sister
Amang the hollins green.

And syne he’s hyed him oer the dale,
His father dear to see:
‘Sing O and O for my bonny hind,
Beneath yon hollin tree!’

‘What needs you care for your bonny hyn?
For it you needna care;
There’s aught score hyns in yonder park,
And five score hyns to spare.

‘Four score of them are siller-shod,
Of thae you may get three;’
‘But O and O for my bonny hyn,
Beneath yon hollin tree!’

‘What needs you care for your bonny hyn?
For it you need na care;
Take the best, gi me the wars
Since plenty is to spare.’

‘I care na for your hyns, my lord,
I care na for your fee;
But O and O for my bonny hyn,
Beneath the hollin tree!’

‘O were ye at your sister’s bower
Your sister fair to see,
Ye’ll think na mair o your bonny hyn
Beneath the hollin tree.’

 

2. “Two Little Babes”

Oh don’t you remember a long time ago
Of two littles babes, their names I don’t know,
Who were stolen away one bright summer’s day
And lost in the woods,
I heard people say.

And the moon went down and the stars gave no light,
So the poor little babes laid down and died,
Then the robin so red brought strawberry leaves and over them spread.
Then sang them a song the whole night long,
Two babes were lost in the wood.

3. Two songs from Charnwood Opera

I. “When Popish Jemmy” (Sung by Frank Farmer, Charnwood Opera ll. 15-30. Melody: “Vicar of Bray” Quoted by E.P. Thompson in Customs in Common.

When Popish Jemmy ruled this Land,
He ruled it like a King, [Sir;]
And bloody Jeffreys went about
Hanging and jibbetíng, [Sir];
The Warreners pricked up their ears;
That was the Time of Grace, [Sir].
Game Laws and Justices were made,
And Rabbits bred apace, [Sir]!

They covered all our common Ground
Or soon would do, no doubt, [Sir]:
But now, whilst George the Second reigns,
We’ll pull the Vermin out, [Sir].
If little Squires should spoil our Sport,
We’ll make the Mar-plots fly, [Sir],
The Warrener and all his Gang,
Rabbíts and Poperý, [Sir].

 

II. “The Coney Warren, its uses” (Charnwood Opera ll.204-52, 300-8) Melody: “King John and the Abbot” This song closes the opera. The one Irish word, “ochone” means “alas”, which is frequent in eighteenth-century song.

I’ll tell ye a Tale that is merry and new –
You’ll like it the better, because it is true –
Of a comical country Squire become
A Keeper of Coneys for Pleasure at Home.
Derry down down, down derry down.

A strange greedy Creature, with horrible Maw,
For she will eat nothing but Flesh that is raw,
And gobbles it up without Reason or Sense,
Which put the poor Squire to [a] grievous expense,
Derry down etc.

But being long-headed, he trumped up a Claim
To Land on the Common that’s royal by Name,
Where he nursed up a Warren, by little and little,
Till the wild Coneys found the tame Coney Vittle,
Derry down etc.

So the Squire saved his money. The wife out of order,
Sick or sullen, this tame took her place in a corner.
But ochone and alas! These sweet doings are done;
For the warren’s destroyed and the coneys are gone.
Derry down etc.

[Squire speaks:]“A Pox on the Poachers! The Diggers! The Devil!
The Justice’s slow, and the Neighbourhood evil.
Our Pockets must pay, but our Pleasures are flown.
What shall Gentlemen do, now the Coneys are gone?”
Derry down etc.

The Land upon B[rand]hill, ‘tis very well known,
Where he planted his Warren, was none of his own.
He craftily stocked it with very small Labour
With Coneys the Poachers had stole from his Neighbour.
Derry down etc.

Good Lord, what a difference! I sigh when I’m told
Of oúr modern Squires, and the Gentry of old.
Generosity then distinguishd the Man;
But find common Honesty now if you can.
Derry down etc.

The Turf is short-bitten by Rabbits, and now
No Milk can be stroakd from the old Woman’s Cow.
Tom Thresher’s poor Children look sadly, and say
They must eat Water-porridge three times in a day,
Derry down etc.

If our greedy old Squire can escape without Blame,
Other Lords, Knights and Squires will soon do the Same.
All the Commons in England shall Warrens become.
The Coneys on Commons keep Coneys at Home.
Derry down etc.

This ís not the worst. Great Example’s a Mover,
And each sorry Swain is a criminal Lover.
Who will wed a poor Wife, that can have his Desire
Of a Wench that is Servant, and do as the Squire?
Derry down etc.

So, God Bless King George! And defend us from Evil
And send all Encroachers on Commons to th‘ Devil.
Let him flee the sharp Squire, who worries the Poor,
Like ours, to wax Wealthy, and live with an Whore,
Derry down etc.

If Gentlemen venture Damnation at last,
Let all honest Fellows be modest and chaste.
Let us kiss our Wives, and let Wenches alone,
And every Man be content with his own.
Derry down etc.

4. “The Stonecutters’ Song”

Tune, a cobbler there was and he lived in his stall

A young stonecutter once did in Westminster dwell
Who for mirth and good humour did many excell
No lad more expert wielded chizel and mallet
He could sing a good song and eke make a good ballet
… Dery Down

He honesty prized, what an oldfashioned whim,
The Bon Ton, the Bon Devil, ’twas all French to him
Content with his station as great as a king
And Liberty always inspired him to sing

His countenance always was cheerful and gay
If he frowned ’twas for fun to fright fribbles away
Thus the sweet little Jenny’s in ridicule clad
Let’s fly from that fellow the Devil’s his Dad

But the polish of Bliss sad misfortune will fret
Like plaister of Paris exposed to the wet
And the [joys] that we boast in one moment of pain
Will moulder like Ryegate when frost follows rain

This young Flamer one day would unluckily roam
And left careless the square of his reason at home
He met a smart doxy ’twas Celia the fair
And he bounded her in to the breadth of a hair

Her skin like Carara so white and so sleek
The blush of the Jasper enamel’d her cheek
And now for her eyes they were fine to be sure
Than Agate more Glossy more black than Namure

Her outlines had ease and her finishing good
Like Venus that goddess who sprung from the flood
Her beauties did all with astonishment strike
Not Phidias or Wilton e’er Moulded the like.

She had fine relieved Bubbies and Marble [……]
Her […] Corinthian […………]
The […] of Pygmalion had not half the grace
A charm in her person, a bloom in her face.

He longed for a kiss on her tender form’d lip
He swore he’d prefer it to punch or strong flip
That lip which outrival’d [……….]’s soft hint
But her heart was alas […] as hard as a flint.

He [……………] as dumb as a rock
Thus fix’d to the ground [like] the huge Portland block
He gaped and he started and looked sheepish dull
Alas he poor soul had [a fent?] in his skull

At length he took Courage he thought twould be best
Well handled his point and the Fair thus addressed:
You have shot from your eyes such a piercing dart
Like the stroke of a Ca[…] it fell on my heart

Thou Venus Medici, oh pitty my doom
Nor send [me, your] true love, Stone dead to the Tomb
I should care not a Gallet for [wi]nd nor for [weather]
If we both dearest Celia were Bonded together

But she swore she would [never] be pierced by his Drill
No no said the Nymph, I’ll be hanged if I will
Twill be Poxing the Jobb and I’m none of that stamp
But marry and then you may let in your Cramp

To the Church then they went the next morning contented
And were by the old parson together Cemented
He Banker’d her quickly the Lad was no fool
And he Work’d her by Jove with a well-tempered Tool.

 

5. “Land o’ the Leal [loyal]”

I’m wear’ awa’, John,
Like snaw-wreaths in the thaw, John,
I’m wearin’ awa’ to the land o’ the leal,
There’s no sorrow there, John
There’s neither cauld nor care John,
The day aye is fair in the land o’ the leal.

Our bonnie bairn’s there, John,
She was baith gude and fair, John,
And, oh! we grudged her sair to the land o’ the leal
But sorrow’s sel’ wears past, John,
And joy is comin’ fast, John
The joy that’s sure to last in the land o’ the leal.

Sae dear that joy was bought, John
Sae free the battle fought, John,
That sinfu’ man e’er brought to the land o’ the leal
Oh! dry your glistenin’ e’ee, John
My soul langs to be free, John
And angels beckon me to the land o’ the leal.

Oh! haud ye leal an’ true, John
Your day it’s wearin’ through, John
And I’ll welcome you to the land o’ the leal
Now fare ye weel, my ain John,
This warld’s cares are vain, John,
We’ll meet, and we’ll be fain, in the land o’ the leal.

 

6. “Caller Herrin’” [“Caller” means fresh]

CH: Buy my caller herrin’
They’re bonny fish and halesome (wholesome) farin’
Buy my caller herrin’
Fresh ta’en frae the Forth.

And when ye’r sleeping on ye’r pillow
Think ye oot of oor brave fellows
Darklin’ on the stormy billows
A’ tae fill oor woven willows

And when the bonny creel it passes
Ladies dressed in silks and laces
Gather up their fine pelisses
Turn their heads and screw their faces

Noo neighbors’ wives come tent me tellin’
When the bonny fish ye’r sellin’
At ye’r wad be a’ ye’r dealin’
Truth will stand, when a’ things fallin’

Last CH: Buy my caller herrin’
They’re no brocht here wi’oot great darin’
Buy my caller herrin’
Ye little ken their worth.

 

7. “Will Ye No Come Back Again”

Bonnie Charlie’s now awa;
Safely owre the friendly main;
Mony heart will break in twa,
Should he ne’er come back again.

Chorus. Will ye no come back again?
Will ye no come back again?
Better lo’ed ye canna be
Will ye no come back again?

Ye trusted in your Hieland men,
They trusted you, dear Charlie!
They kent your hiding in the glen,
Death or exile braving.

Chorus

English bribes were a’ in vain,
Tho’ puir, and puirer, we maun be;
Siller canna buy the heart
That beats aye for thine and thee.

Chorus

We watched thee in the gloaming hour,
We watched thee in the morning grey;
Tho’ thirty thousand pound they gie,
Oh there in nane that wad betray!

Chorus

Sweet’s the Laverock’s note and lang,
Lilting wildy up the glen;
But aye to me he sings ae sang,
Will ye no come back again?

Chorus

8. “Sheath and Knife”

It is talked it is talked the whole world o’er
And the broom blooms bonny and they say it is fair
That the king’s only dochter goes wi’ child by her brother
And we’ll never go down to the broom ony mair.

He has taen his sister down to their father’s deer park
And the broom blooms bonny and they say it is fair
Wi’ his yew tree bow and arrows slung fast across his back
And we’ll never go down to the broom ony mair.

Now when that ye hear me gie a loud cry
And the broom blooms bonny and they say it is fair
Shoot frae thy bow an arrow and there let me lie
And we’ll never go down to the broom ony mair.

And when that ye see that I am lying dead
And the broom blooms bonny and they say it is fair
Then put me in a grave wi’ a turf at my head
And we’ll never go down to the broom ony mair.

When that he heard her gie a loud cry
And the broom blooms bonny and they say it is fair
A silver arrow from his bow he suddenly let fly
And we’ll never go down to the broom ony mair.

He has made a grave both wide and deep
And the broom blooms bonny and they say it is fair
And he’s put his sister in it, wi’ her babe at her feet
And we’ll never go down to the broom ony mair.

And when that he came to his father’s court hall
And the broom blooms bonny and they say it is fair
There was music and minstrels and dancing everywhere
And we’ll never go down to the broom ony mair.

O Willie O Willie what makes then in pain
And the broom blooms bonny and they say it is fair
I have lost a sheath and knife that I’ll never see again
And we’ll never go down to the broom ony mair.

There is ships o’ your father’s a-sailing on the sea
And the broom blooms bonny and they say it is fair
That will bring as good a sheath and knife unto thee
And we’ll never go down to the broom ony mair.

There is ships o’ my father’s that sail upon the sea
And the broom blooms bonny and they say it is fair
But such a sheath and knife they will never bring to me.
And we’ll never go down to the broom ony mair.

 

 

9. “The Cruel Mother”

There was a lady lived in the North
Oh the rose and the linsey-o
And she fell in love with her father’s clerk
Down by the greenwood sidey-o.

He courted her for a year and a day
Oh the rose…
’til her the young man did betray
down by the greenwood side-ee-oh.

She leaned her back up against a thorn
Oh the rose…
She has had two pretty babies born
Down by the green…

She took her her penknife keen and sharp
Oh the rose…
She has stabbed it to their heart
Down by the green…

As she was walking her father’s hall
Oh the rose…
She saw two babes a playing ball
Down by the green…

She said O babes if you were mine
Oh the rose…
I’d dress you up in silks so fine
Down by the green…

Mother mother when we were thine
Oh the rose…
You did not treat us then so kind
Down by the green…

There was a lady lived in the North
Oh the rose…
She feel in love with her father’s clerk
Down by the green…