Life and Remains of John Clare Part 31

"I commenced sometime ago with an intention of making a collection of Old Ballads, but when I had sought after them in places where I expected to find them, namely, the hayfield and the shepherd's hut on the pasture, I found that nearly all those old and beautiful recollections had vanished as so many old fas.h.i.+ons, and those who knew fragments seemed ashamed to acknowledge it, as old people who sung old songs only sung to be laughed at; and those who were proud of their knowledge in such things knew nothing but the senseless balderdash that is bawled over and sung at country feasts, statutes and fairs, where the most senseless jargon pa.s.ses for the greatest excellence, and rudest indecency for the finest wit. So the matter was thrown by, and forgotten, until last winter, when I used to spend the long evenings with my father and mother, and heard them by accident hum over sc.r.a.ps of the following old melodies, which I have collected and put into their present form."

Two of the collection are omitted from this volume: the well-known ballad of "Lord Randall," and a second the subject of which appeared to render its inclusion inexpedient.

ADIEU TO MY FALSE LOVE FOREVER

The week before Easter, the days long and clear, So bright shone the sun and so cool blew the air, I went in the meadow some flowers to find there, But the meadow would yield me no posies.

The weather, like love, did deceitful appear, And I wandered alone when my sorrow was near, For the thorn that wounds deeply doth bide the whole year, When the bush it is naked of roses.

I courted a girl that was handsome and gay, I thought her as constant and true as the day, Till she married for riches and said my love "Nay,"

And so my poor heart got requited.

I was bid to the bridal; I could not say "No:"

The bridemen and maidens they made a fine show; I smiled like the rest but my heart it was low, To think how its hopes they were blighted.

The bride started gaily, the weather was fine, Her parents looked after, and thought her divine; She smiled in their faces, but looked not in mine, Indeed I'd no heart to regard her.

Though love like the poplar doth lift its head high, The top it may fade and the root it may die, And they may have heart-aches that now live in joy, But Heaven I'll leave to reward her.

When I saw my false love in the merry church stand, With her ring on her finger and her love in her hand, Smiling out in the joy of her houses and land, My sighs I strove vainly to smother.

When my false love for dinner did dainties partake, I sat me down also, but nothing could eat; I thought her sweet company better than meat, Although she was tied to another.

When my false love had gone to her bride bed at night, My eyes filled with water which made double my sight; I thought she was there when she'd bade us "Good night"

And her chair was put by till the morrow.

I drank to her joy with a tear on my face, And the wine gla.s.s as usual I pushed on the s.p.a.ce, Nor knew she was gone till I looked at the place, Such a fool was I made of by sorrow.

Now make me a bed in yon river so deep, Let its waves be my mourners; nought living will weep, And there let me lie and take a long sleep, So adieu to my false love for ever.

O SILLY LOVE! O CUNNING LOVE!

O silly love! O cunning love!

An old maid to trepan: I cannot go about my work For loving of a man.

I cannot bake, I cannot brew, And, do the best I can, I burn the bread and chill the mash, Through loving of a man.

Shrove Tuesday last I tried, and tried, To turn the cakes in pan, And dropt the batter on the floor, Through thinking of a man.

My mistress screamed, my master swore, Boys cursed me in a troop; The cat was all the friends I had, Who helped to clean it up.

Last Christmas eve, from off the spit I took the goose to table, Or should have done, but teasing Love Did make me quite unable; And down slipt dish, and goose, and all With din and c.l.i.tter-clatter; All but the dog fell foul on me; He licked the broken platter.

Although I'm ten years past a score, Too old to play the fool, My mistress says I must give o'er My service for a school.

Good faith! What must I do, and do, To keep my service still; I'll give the winds my thoughts to love, Indeed and so I will.

And if the wind my love should lose, Right foolish were the play, For I should mourn what I had lost, And love another day.

With crosses and with losses Right double were the ill, So I'll e'en bear with love and all, Alack, and so I will.

n.o.bODY COMETH TO WOO

On Martinmas eve the dogs did bark, And I opened the window to see, When every maiden went by with her spark, But ne'er a one came to me.

And O dear what will become of me?

And O dear what shall I do, When n.o.body whispers to marry me-- n.o.body cometh to woo?

None's born for such troubles as I be: If the sun wakens first in the morn, "Lazy hussy" my parents both call me, And I must abide by their scorn, For n.o.body cometh to marry me, n.o.body cometh to woo, So here in distress must I tarry me-- What can a poor maiden do?

If I sigh through the window when Jerry The ploughman goes by, I grow bold; And if I'm disposed to be merry, My parents do nothing but scold; And Jerry the clown, and no other, E'er cometh to marry or woo; They think me the moral of mother, And judge me a terrible shrew.

For mother she hateth all fellows, And spinning's my father's desire, While the old cat growls ba.s.s with the bellows If e'er I hitch up to the fire.

I make the whole house out of humour, I wish nothing else but to please, Would fortune but bring a good comer To marry, and make me at ease!

When I've nothing my leisure to hinder, I scarce get as far as the eaves; Her head's instant out of the window, Calling out like a press after thieves.

The young men all fall to remarking, And laugh till they're weary to see 't, While the dogs at the noise begin barking, And I slink in with shame from the street.

My mother's aye jealous of loving, My father's aye jealous of play, So what with them both there's no moving, I'm in durance for life and a day.

O who shall I get for to marry me?

Who will have pity to woo?

'T is death any longer to tarry me, And what shall a poor maiden do?

FARE THEE WELL

[Clare's note:--"Sc.r.a.ps from my father and mother, completed."]

Here's a sad good bye for thee, my love, To friends and foes a smile: I leave but one regret behind, That's left with thee the while, But hopes that fortune is our friend Already pays the toil.

Force bids me go, your friends to please.

Would they were not so high!

But be my lot on land or seas, It matters not where by, For I shall keep a thought for thee, In my heart's core to lie.

Winter shall lose its frost and snow, The spring its blossomed thorn, The summer all its bloom forego, The autumn hound and horn Ere I will lose that thought of thee, Or ever prove forsworn.

The dove shall change a hawk in kind, The cuckoo change its tune, The nightingale at Christmas sing, The fieldfare come in June-- Ere I do change my love for thee These things shall change as soon.

So keep your heart at ease, my love, Nor waste a joy for me: I'll ne'er prove false to thee, my love, Till fish drown in the sea, And birds forget to fly, my love, And then I'll think of thee.

The red c.o.c.k's wing may turn to grey, The crow's to silver white, The night itself may be for day, And suns.h.i.+ne wake at night: Till then--and then I'll prove more true Than Nature, life, and light.