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Read Ebook: Musa Pedestris - Three Centuries of Canting Songs and Slang Rhymes [1536 - 1896] by Farmer John Stephen
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Ebook has 702 lines and 41198 words, and 15 pages
Index to Titles
Index to Authors
Forewords
Notes
Appendix
FOREWORDS
As regards the Vulgar Tongue itself--though exhaustive disquisition obviously lies outside the scope of necessarily brief forewords--it may be pointed out that its origin in England is confessedly obscure. Prior to the second half of the 16th century, there was little trace of that flood of unorthodox speech which, in this year of grace eighteen hundred and ninety-six, requires six quarto double-columned volumes duly to chronicle--verily a vast and motley crowd!
As to the distinction to be drawn between Cant and Slang it is somewhat difficult to speak. Cant we know; its limits and place in the world of philology are well defined. In Slang, however, we have a veritable Proteus, ever shifting, and for the most part defying exact definition and orderly derivation. Few, save scholars and such-like folk, even distinguish between the two, though the line of demarcation is sharply enough defined.
In the first place, Slang is universal, whilst Cant is restricted in usage to certain classes of the community: thieves, vagrom men, and-- well, their associates. One thing, indeed, both have in common; each are derived from a correct normal use of language. There, however, all similarity ends.
Slang boasts a quasi-respectability denied to Cant, though Cant is frequently more enduring, its use continuing without variation of meaning for many generations. With Slang this is the exception; present in force to-day, it is either altogether forgotten to-morrow, or has shaded off into some new meaning--a creation of chance and circumstance. Both Cant and Slang, but Slang to a more determinate degree, are mirrors in which those who look may see reflected a picture of the age, with its failings, foibles, and idiosyncrasies. They reflect the social life of the people, the mirror rarely being held to truth so faithfully--hence the present interest, and may be future value, of these songs and rhymes. For the rest the book will speak for itself.
MUSA PEDESTRIS
RHYMES OF THE CANTING CREW.
THE BEGGAR'S CURSE
The Ruffin cly the nab of the Harmanbeck, If we mawnd Pannam, lap, or Ruff-peck, Or poplars of yarum: he cuts, bing to the Ruffmans, Or els he sweares by the light-mans, To put our stamps in the Harmans, The ruffian cly the ghost of the Harmanbeck If we heaue a booth we cly the lerk.
If we niggle, or mill a bowzing Ken, Or nip a boung that has but a win, Or dup the giger of a Gentry cores ken, To the quier cuffing we bing; And then to the quier Ken, to scowre the Cramp-ring, And then to the Trin'de on the chates, in the light-mans, The Bube &. Ruffian cly the Harmanbeck & harmans.
"OWRE OUT BEN MORTS"
Towre out ben morts & towre, Looke out ben morts & towre, For all the Rome coues are budgd a beake, And the quire coves tippe the lowre.
The quire coues are budgd to the bowsing ken, As Romely as a ball, But if we be spid we shall be clyd, And carried to the quirken hall.
Out budgd the Coue of the ken, With a ben filtch in his quarr'me That did the prigg good that bingd in the kisome, To towre the Coue budge alar'me.
THE MAUNDER'S WOOING
O Ben mort wilt thou pad with me, One ben slate shall serue both thee and me, My Caster and Commission shall serue vs both to maund, My bong, my lowre & fambling cheates Shall be at thy command.
O Ben Coue that may not be, For thou hast an Autem mort who euer that is she, If that she were dead & bingd to his long tibb, Then would I pad and maund with thee, And wap and fon the fibb.
But O ben Coue what if we be clyd, Long we cannot foist & nip at last we shall be spyed, If that we be spied, O then begins our woe, With the Harman beake out and alas, To Wittington we goe.
Stow your whids & plant, and whid no more of that Budg a beak the crackmas & tip lowr with thy prat If treyning thou dost feare, thou ner wilt foist a Ian, Then mill, and wap and treine for me, A gere peck in thy gan.
As they were thus after a strange maner a wooing, in comes by chance a clapper-dudgeon for a pinte of Ale, who as soone as he was spied, they left off their roguish poetry, and fell to mocke of the poor maunder thus.
The clapper dugeon lies in the skipper, He dares not come out for shame, But when he binges out he dus budg to the gigger, Tip in my skew good dame.
"A GAGE OF BEN ROM-BOUSE"
A gage of ben Rom-bouse, In a bousing-ken of Rom-vile
"BING OUT, BIEN MORTS"
Bing out, bien Morts, and toure, and toure, bing out, bien Morts, and toure; For all your Duds are bingd awaste, the bien coue hath the loure.
I met a Dell, I viewde her well, she was benship to my watch; So she and I, did stall and cloy, whateuer we could catch.
This Doxie dell, can cut bien whids, and wap well for a win; And prig and cloy so benshiply, all the dewsea-vile within.
The boyle was vp, wee had good lucke, in frost, for and in snow; When they did seeke, then we did creepe, and plant in ruffe-mans low.
To Stawling Kenne the Mort bings then, to fetch loure for her cheates; Duds and Ruff-pecke, ruinboild by Harmanbecke, and won by Mawnder's feates.
You Mawnders all, stow what you stall, to Rome coues watch so quire; And wapping Dell that niggles well, and takes loure for her hire.
And Jvbe well Ierkt, tick rome-comfeck, for backe by glimmar to mawnd, To mill each Ken, let coue bing then, through ruffemans, lague or launde.
Till Cramprings quier, tip Coue his hire, and quier-kens doe them catch; A canniken, mill quier cuffen, so quier to ben coue's watch.
Bein darkmans then, bouse, mort, and ken the bien coue's bingd awast; On chates to trine, by Rome-coues dine for his long lib at last.
Bingd out bien morts, and toure, and toure, bing out of the Rome-vile; And toure the coue, that cloyde your duds, upon the chates to trine.
THE SONG OF THE BEGGAR
I am Rogue and a stout one, A most courageous drinker, I doe excell, 'tis knowne full well, The Ratter, Tom, and Tinker. Still doe I cry, good your Worship good Sir, Bestow one small Denire, Sir And brauely at the bousing Ken He bouse it all in Beere, Sir.
If a Bung be got by the hie Law, Then straight I doe attend them, For if Hue and Crie doe follow, I A wrong way soone doe send them. Still doe I cry, etc.
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