%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> THE / Coy COOK-MAID, / Who was Courted importunately by Irish-Welsh Spa- / nish, French and Dutch, but at last was Conquered by a poor / English Taylor. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1703-1703 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 05/06/2011 31380

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

R228932 3 UNKNOWN UNKNOWN There was a Brisk Lass, &c. King James's Jig; The Country Farmer There Was a Brisk Lass, etc. Joan scrub'd up her Rooms, made all things clean, / The Tables, the Chairs and the edge of the Skreen, Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 3: 851 THE / Coy COOK-MAID, / Who was Courted importunately by Irish-Welsh Spa- / nish, French and Dutch, but at last was Conquered by a poor / English Taylor. THE Coy COOK-MAID, Who was Courted importunately by Irish-Welsh Spa-nish, French and Dutch, but at last was Conquered by a poor English Taylor. THE Coy COOK-MAID, Who was Courted importunately by Irish-Welsh Spanish, French and Dutch, but at last was Conquered by a poor English Taylor. 1703-1703 E. Brooksby

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious types & sects royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic The New World travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgarities/ crass humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 5/6/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America country/ nation marriage race/ ethnicity violence vulgarities/ crass humor Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 5/6/2011 12:06:10 PM XBallad Doss, MacKenzie Created XML Version of Ballad 5/6/2011 12:06:10 PM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/6/2011 12:06:10 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Zusky, Catherine Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/6/2011 12:06:10 PM Transcriptionist Two Zusky, Catherine Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/6/2011 12:06:10 PM Transcriptionist One Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/4/2011 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/2/2009 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 2/11/2009 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 12/6/2010 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 12/6/2010 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 12/6/2010 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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JOan scrubd up her Rooms, made all things clean, The Tables, the Chairs, and the edge of the Skreen, [S]he scourd each Piss-pot and Pewter-dish, Made ery thing clean as Heart could wish; The Pewter and Brass was so very clear, [T]hat wanting a Glass, she oft drew near [To d]eck up her Head, and curle her Hair; [No]t one amongst twenty with her could compare;
She made her Plumb-pottage and sweet Mincd pies, The Roast-beef was laid down when she did rise; Dinner was read[y], and likd so well, Nor one amongst twenty could Joan excel; They praisd her so much that Joan grew proud, And then she began to prate aloud, I will have a Husband, oft [s]he cryd, A pretty young Man to lye by my side:
Then out stept a Scot with his blew Bonnet on, He lookt f[u]ll as big as a Spanish Don His Pistol wa[s] under his cheque[r]d plade, His Whinyard was made of a B[il]bo blade. Quoth he, Bread a gad, the Days mine awn, Ise as bonny a fallow as ere was knawn, Ise will ha this Lassee before ise gang heam, Shel mack me gued Langke[a]l to fill my Weam. He came to salute her, but Jo[a]n w[a]s mad: And calld the poor Sco[t]ch-man a sawcy lad, She took up the Ladle and broke his Pate, And told him he profferd hi[s] Love too late [Deel bli]nd you, quoth Sawny, you nasty Slut, The muckle De'll stop Hemp in your Gut, [Ise naw seek] Joan to be my Wife, [She'l e'ne] mack me weary of my Life[,] [Then a fine] French-man took his Place, His Cr[a]vat and Ruffles were all of Lace, Said he, Begar me come to dis Place, [Me] be much in love v[i]d your sweet face, [Me no like] no Lady vid in dis [T]own, Begarr me no like dem, dey ver much frown; Me have seen all, me tink dere's none Dat may be compar'd vid Missis Joan. Me be resolvd to lose my Life; But me will have Joan to be my Wife. Joan lo[o]kt about her, and then replyd. The Devil shall be the French-mans Bride; March to your Portage, you sinical Knave, Ill ner go to France to be your Slave; Get you out of the Kitchin, or else by Mars, This swinging Spit shall run through your A--- Poor Mounsier lookt blank, and sneakd away, For his Wife nor his Life he durst not stay. Then enter'd an Irish-man, and swore, The noise of her Beauty brought him o're; My naam ish Teague, and by my Shalvaashon, I prize dy Faash 'bove all in de Naashon; Den predee, dear Joy, come kiss my sweet Faash, By Shaint Phaatrick I never will leave dish Plash.
I have a Pot[a]to-plat of my own, [An a shneeshing-boxh,] 'tish very well known; [I have a schullogue to run] by my Shide, [I fait and trote thou shalt] be my Bride. Be go[ne bogg-trotter, then Joan did cry,] Or [the] broom-stick shall on your shoulders lie, Pack up your Awle, and make short of your [story,] Or I'le make you pay dear [for your vain-glory.] A Seaman from Holland then enter'd the list, As drunken a Rascal as ever Pist [He brought in his hand a Bottle of] Nans, And swore 'twas the famousest liquor in France; 'Twill make you Dutch Spraagen before it be Noon: Be gone (said [s]he) you drunken Clown, I'le pull the blew Rug from off your Pate If you offer to [stay] with Joan to prate. And then Jack Spaniard began to vapour, With a mighty short Cloak and a very long Rapier He offer'd his Service, and proudly did strut; But Joan went and gave him a Kick with her Foot; Ye [insolent] Dog (quoth she) be gone, There's none I hate more than a Spanish Don; I mean not to wait upon such a proud Sinner, Whilst he is a pampering his Guts at Dinner. The Welch-man hearing the rest was gone, Resolv'd that he would be with her anon, With Leek in his Hat, on St. Taffys Day, He came to Joan, and thus he did say: Her was a brave Shentleman in Wales, Her has a cood Land, cots-plutter-a-nails, Her has a fine Goat, and her makes Sheese, Was her make her a Lady if now her please, But Joan protested she hated them all, And swore to be at an English-mans Call; She knew their Humours, and did not doubt But some o[f] other would chuse her out: At last she married a Taylor, good Lord, And he the greazy Frigat did board; They both were well pleas'd, and kindly agreed, And she from the rest of her [s]uitors was freed.
London: Printed for E. Brooksby, at the sign of the Golden-ball, in Pye-corner.