%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> THE / Countryman's GARLAND; / In Two PARTS. / To a Merry New TUNE. / PART I. Country JOHN's unfortunate Ramble to / London; Or, The Tricks of a Town Jilt. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1779-1779 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 05/07/2012 32446

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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

T195369 YOU young men that down in the country dwell, / Come listen a while to my song, sir, ONE Day as I was begging in Bishopsgate Street, / It being sad rainy weather, Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 289723 THE / Countryman's GARLAND; / In Two PARTS. / To a Merry New TUNE. / PART I. Country JOHN's unfortunate Ramble to / London; Or, The Tricks of a Town Jilt. THE Countryman's GARLAND; In Two PARTS. To a Merry New TUNE. PART I. Country JOHN's unfortunate Ramble to London; Or, The Tricks of a Town Jilt. THE Countryman's GARLAND; In Two PARTS. To a Merry New TUNE. PART I. Country JOHN's unfortunate Ramble to London; Or, The Tricks of a Town Jilt. 1779-1779

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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 5/7/2012 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America children crime law London punishment rural life trickery/ deceit urban life Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 5/7/2012 1:10:31 PM XBallad Mendoza, Aaron Created XML Version of Ballad 5/7/2012 1:10:31 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/7/2012 1:10:31 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/7/2012 1:10:31 PM Transcriptionist Two Wong, Bethany Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/7/2012 1:10:31 PM Transcriptionist One Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/20/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 5/11/2011 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
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<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">THE</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Countryman<hi rend="bold">s GARLAND;</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">In Two PARTS.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">To a Merry New TUNE.</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">PART I. Country JOHNs unfortunate Ramble to</hi></seg> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">London; Or, The Tricks of a Town Jilt.</hi></seg>
YOU young men that down in the country dwell, Come listen a while to my song, sir, While my sad misfortunes to you I do tell, Pray do not think the time long, sir. I livd in the country as sweet as a rose, One day in a hurry I packd up my cloaths, My best fine doublet, my hat and my hose, And away came trudging to London. When I came to London, that famous fine place, I viewd the steeple so high, sir, Such I neer saw before in all my days, Lord how they did hallow and cry, sir Here are fine snuff-boxes fit for your nose, Some crying artichoaks, others old cloaths, I thought at first theyd been calling their cows, They made such a racket in London. But as I stood staring with the trunk at my back, Being both cold, wet, and weary. One came up to me, and askd what I lackd,
She was drest up as fine as a lady. I turnd me round, and lookd her in the face, Dear madam, said I, I do want a place, She smild upon me with a simpering grace, And bid me right welcome to London. She said, In the country I have a good friend, That wants one to wait at the table, If youll stay awhile I for him will send, And do for you what I am able. Strait into a tavern away she did pack, I followd her close with my trunk at my back, She calld her maid Betty, likewise her man Jack, They both bid me welcome to London. Miss Betty cryd Madam, you know I am sickly, Therefore, if John is but willing To carry this basket, hell come again quickly, For his pains I will give him a shilling. My brains being drowned in brandy and sack, She hoisted the basket upon my poor back, And both together thro the city did pack, I thought it rare living in London.
She went by my side as demure as a mouse, Did ever man see such a whore, sir, She carryd me down to the Constables house, And bid me knock at the door, sir, I rapt at the door, and the Constable came, And the child in the basket began to mourn, I lookd over my shoulder, but Betty was gone, Then I wishd myself safe out of London. Said I, Heres a present, he said, Who sent it! At that I began to look blue, sir; Its no matter, said I, with my pains Im content, But he cryd out, That will not do, sir. He pulled a painted staff out of his pocket, And about my ears he did lustily knock it, Besides he calld me saucepate and blockhead, And this I got by coming to London. The basket was tyd up as fast as might be, Which added much to my vexation; And in it indeed was a pretty young babe, Which put the man into a passion. A pot full of pottage he threw in my Eyes, The People did hollow, the Bastard did cry, And I wishd myself safe in my own country, I was weary of living in London. I went to the Tavern, the Place where I drank, But Neighbours, if you will believe me, The Lady was gone, and so was my Trunk, Thought I, the Devil go with thee. This put me into a passionate Rage, I lost all my Cloaths and seven Years wage, This I got by coming to London. The very next morning, without any dodging, My troubles came thicker and faster, I to Bridewell was sent to beat Hemp for my Lodg-ing To maintain Myself and my Bastard. And then for a twelvemonth I daily did beg, Till I had neither stocking or shoe to my Leg, With the Brat at my Back I was forced to beg, And this I got by coming to London.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">PART II. The Jilt paid in her own Coin: Or</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Country JOHNs Revenge for the Trick she</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">had played him.</hi></seg>
ONE Day as I was begging in Bishopsgate Street, It being sad rainy weather, There with Mrs. Betty I happend to meet, And the old Whore both together. Now Ill be revenged on these old Whores, For this was the time to pay off their Scores, So followd them Home unto their own Doors, For then I was acquainted with London. Thought I, my Purpose they shall not prevent, If they do, the Devil must be in it; Without more delay for the Constable I sent, And he came with his staff in a minute. I calld for Assistance, and seized them strait, And then to the People my tale did relate: They laughd at my Frolick and pityd my Fate, And said, Id hard Fortune in London. As the Constable he was securing those Punks, Dear Neighbours, as I am a Sinner, I stepd in the Chamber, and there stood my Trunk. It was placed just under the Window; My Cloaths was gone and my Money likewise, But believe me, I met with a much better Prize It was full of good Linnen, Pinners, and Coifs, I thought it good Booty in London. A Pair of Silk Breeches lay on the Shelf, With a gold Watch and Rings in the Pocket; Said I, These are like to fit none but myself,, So put them strait under my jacket. Both Top-knots and Laces I pillagd good store, My Breeches were filld, I could cram in no more While the Whores were scolding I slipt out of Door And away I went jogging from London. I scamperd away as fast as I was able, To be going I was very willing, The Brat I left lying under the Table, Who cryd like a Pig that was killing. The Constable served his Warrants on them, And unto New Bridewell he did carry them, And they may beat Hemp till the Devil fetches them For Ill never come more to London. You young Men that live in the Country sweet, Id have you to please your old Masters, And never go up to the City, for fear You meet with such like disasters: For Londons as sharp as the Edge of a Knife, The City is filld with Faction and Strife, Boys, nothing so sweet as a Country Life. Let those that want Wit go to London.
Printed and sold at No. 4, Aldermary churchyard.