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EBBA 21157

Magdalene College - Pepys
Ballad XSLT Template
The Fryer Well-fitted:
OR,
A pretty Jest that once befel,
How a Maid put a Fryer to cool in the Well.
To a Merry Tune.

A S I lay musing all alone,
fa, la, la. la, la,
A pretty jest I thought upon,
fa, la, la, la, la,
Then listen a while, and I will you tell.
Of a Fryer that lov'd a bonny Lass well
fa, la, la, la, la,
fa, la, la, lang-tre-down-dilly.
He came to the Maid when she went to bed
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Desiring to have her Maiden-head,
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But she denyed his desire
And told him, that she feared Hell fire.
fa, la, etc.
Tush (quod the Fryer) thou needst not doubt
fa, la, etc.
If thou wert in hell, I could sing thee out
fa, la, etc.
Then (quod the Maid) thou shalt have thy request
The Fryer was glad as a Fox in his nest
fa, la, etc.

But one thing (quoth she) I do desire
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Before you have what you require,
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Before that you shall do the thing
An Angel of money thou shalt me bring,
fa, la, etc.
Tush, (quoth the Fryer) we shall agree
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No money shall part my Love and me;
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Before that I will see thee lack;
I'le pawn my grey Gown from my back
fa, la, etc.
The Maid bethought her of a wile,
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How she the Fryer might beguile,
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While she was gone the truth to tell,
She hung a cloath before the well;
fa, la, la, la, la,
fa, la, la, lang-tre-down dilly.

T He Fryer came as his covenant was
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With money to his bonny Lass,
fa, la, etc.
Good morrow fair Maid, good morrow, quod he
Here is the money I promised thee.
fa, la, la, la, la,
fa, la, la, lang-tre-down-dilly.
she thankt the man, & she took his money
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Now let us go too't, (quod he) sweet honey
fa, la, etc.
Oh stay (quod she) some respite make,
My Father comes he will me take
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Alas (quod the Fryer) where shall I run,
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To hide me till that he be gone,
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Behind the cloth run thou (quod she)
And there my Father cannot thee see,
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Behind the cloth the Fryer crept,
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And into the well on sudden he leapt,
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Alas (quoth he) I am in the Well,
No matter (quod she) if thou wert in Hell;
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Thou say'st thou couldst sing me out of Hell
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Now prethee sing thy self out of the well
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The Fryer sung on with a pittiful sound
Oh help me out, or I shall be drown'd;
fa, la, etc.

I trow (quoth she) your courage is coll'd
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(Quoth the Fryer) I never was so fool'd
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I never was served so before,
then take heed (quod she) thou com'st there no more,
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(Quoth he) for sweet Saint Francis sake
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On his Disciple some pitty take,
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(Quoth she) Saint Francis never taught
His Scholars, to tempt young Maids to naught;
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The Fryer did intreat her still,
fa, la; etc.
That she would help him out of the well
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she heard him make such pitious moan,
She help'd him out and bid him be gone;
fa la, etc.
(Quoth he) shall I have my money again
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Which thou from me hast before-hand tane
fa, la,
good sir (said she) there's no such matter
I'le make you pay for fouling my water
fa la, etc.
The Fryer went all along the street
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Dropping wet, like a new-wash d sheep,
fa, la, etc.
Both old and young commended the Maid
That such a witty prank had plaid,
fa, la, la, la, la,
fa la, la, lang-tre-down-dilly.

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