%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> ELEGY on the murnful Banishment of James / Campbel of Burnbank to the West-Indies. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1721-1721 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 05/21/2012 32423

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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

T202545 NOw let Salt-Tears run down our Cheeks, / The only Son of Mungo Cleeks, Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 180194 ELEGY on the murnful Banishment of James / Campbel of Burnbank to the West-Indies. ELEGY on the murnful Banishment of James Campbel of Burnbank to the West-Indies. ELEGY on the mournful Banishment of James Campbell of Burnbank to the West Indies. 1721-1721

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas 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 groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 5/21/2012 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Americas crime death punishment Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 5/21/2012 11:13:43 AM XBallad Kroeze, Kathryn Created XML Version of Ballad 5/21/2012 11:13:43 AM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/21/2012 11:13:43 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/21/2012 11:13:43 AM Transcriptionist Two Hong, Sue Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/21/2012 11:13:43 AM Transcriptionist One Lester, Hillary Transcription of ballad manuscript 8/9/2011 Checker Percy Ross Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 5/16/2012 Transcriber Lester, Hillary Created Ballad XML 5/16/2012 Transcriber Hong, Sue Created Ballad XML 5/16/2012 Double-Key Transcription Merger Meyer, Shannon Created Ballad XML 5/16/2012 Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Created Ballad XML 5/16/2012 XBallad Mendoza, Aaron Created Ballad XML 5/11/2011 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">ELEGY on the murnful Banishment of <hi rend="bold">James</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">Campbel</hi> of <hi rend="bold">Burnbank</hi> to the <hi rend="bold">West-Indies.</hi></hi></seg>
NOw let Salt-Tears run down our Cheeks, The only Son of Mungo Cleeks, Is to be banishd in few Weeks ore to Virginie, Id rather gin a in my Breeks and thats a Guinea. Fiend cut the Coots that takes him there, Im sure its far from being fair, For very ill can we him spare, well lead sad Lives, Alas! hell Counsel us no mair to Guide ill Wives. They had better led him down the Bow, To take a Dance in Harys Tow, Then many Hearts would Merry grow, nane would complain, Theyd say, when they drest his black Pow, hes fair ore seen. But now thats unco kind of Law, To send poor Bankie clean awa, To Pagan Folk he never saw theyve wrangd him, Theyd better usd him like Bogha, and fairly hangd him. Why should they persecute With Rigour, Poor Bankie in his Prime and Vigour, The Spark that made so fine a Figure, through all his Life; Cause he gard Highland John McGregor Debauch a Wife. Tho Bankies Head contrivd the Plot, And John for some few Crowns he got, Crap in into her wanton Spot with Higland Graith; That never would have wrangd her Throat Ill give my Aith. What will be Bankies Occupation, When he is banishd frae this Nation, Into a far farast Plantation Come and Ill Ventur Cheatry, Adultry and Furnication, Makes a rare Planter. And if that he be spared Alive To see his bra Plantation thrive, Rogues and Limmers, all will Strive for to gae there, A wally Trade with him theyll drive, but here theyre bare. O! but my Heart it fairly grieves, To think that he with Whores and Thieves; Man Drudge among, Tobacca Leaves dreeping with Sweet, While a the Wages he receives, is heal Folks Meat. Blae will he look to think hes lost His creditable Castle Post. Ands banisht to an Indian Coast for being a Knave, Of Bankie now well nae mair boast for hes a Slave. Dreep Burial Guns ye warlike Folk That lives upon the Castle-Rock, Because that your Store-keepers broke and like to beg, Yed better Shot him through the Dock wi great Muns-Meg. Tho daft Ginks said he was a Rouk, Telling what Stands of Arms he took, And put them in his ain Pock nook twas very fair, Theyre Fools and speak without the Book he kept them there. Im sure before he want his Bread, For, O he has a witty Head, With Mercury hll be their Dead or in a Stank, Hell gar them sink like as much Lead its like Burnbank, Poor Jamie Mushet, Grizie Bell, Twa Folk thats very like him sell Were they wi him theyd a sae fell wi little clamour
Theyd send some Souls to Heaven or Hell, had they a Hammer. Him on the Street well nae mair see, Running like a bussie Bee, Contriving ay the other Plea he was a Jewel, But now hes Banisht ore the Sea O thats Crewel. When Messengers lift up their Hands To touch his Shoulders wi their Wands, Soon did he give them the long Sands and drew his Raper He reckoned Captions, Bills and Bands but useless Paper O but he had a cunning way When Creditors refused Delay And Feind a Plack he had to pay within his Spung He payed there Skins, and some Folk say halfe Stickd George Young Tho he was Poor he was right Sprush With Scarlet Hose and Coat of Plush; He into Ladys Rooms would rush flew round their waste Syn took them by the Cutty Mush in a P---k hast Hes left you now to Chase the Black, As he did you upon their Backs, Hell coup them till their Curpons crack, at the auld Sport, There is nae Kirk Thesaurer there that taks, any Thing fort. Alas poor Emelie Marine, The Days are gane that yeve seen, Aft hae ye with him wanton been, at hough me Gandy, Hes gin you mony Gown of Green, and Gluts of Brandy. I pity you poor Glasgow Kate, Wha I ha kend both Air and Late, Sit trembling at the Castle Gate, in Frost and Hail, Just for to get your common Fate, a well paid Tail. Im feard three Ghosts will haunt his Walls, Mushets, Blairs and Peggie Halls, And when he sees such grim Cabals, hell droop his Head, The LORD have Mercy on his Saul, theyll be his dead. And when Cow Death shuts up his Een, And hes laid where hell nere be seen, Least he wear out of Memory clean, upon his Grave, That a my ken what Blade hes been, these Lines Ingrave. Epitaph. HEre lies the Head that Mischief plotted, and Feet that Satans Erands trotted, For greed of Gear, but when he got it, O filthy Varlet, He quickly ran thro every Grot o it, wi some vile Harlot. Banisht by Old Reikies Law, For Rape and Murders twa, The first was sent here awa, and now hes dead. He was the worst Sight ere we saw, else Mony leed. Since he was one of Satans Brood, And never did the Thing was Good, But often dyd his Hands in Blood, for want of Grace, Now he is gone as we conclude, to a black Place.