%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Banishment of Poverty, by His Royal Highness University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1703-1703 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 07/14/2014 34162

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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

T188980 POx fa that pultron Poverty, / wa worth the time that I him saw, Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 32 The Banishment of Poverty, by His Royal Highness The Banishment of Poverty, by His Royal Highness 1703-1703

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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 Featured 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 7/14/2014 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America class economics/ commerce nobility/ court servitude Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 7/14/2014 1:42:51 PM XBallad Chow, Jeremy Created XML Version of Ballad 7/14/2014 1:42:51 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/14/2014 1:42:51 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/14/2014 1:42:51 PM Transcriptionist Two McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/14/2014 1:42:51 PM Transcriptionist One Adams, Savannah J.L. Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/14/2014 Checker Kristen McCants Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 12/3/2012 Bibliographer Olivia Miller Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 1/17/2014 Checker Jeremy Chow Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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POx sa that pultron Poverty, wa worth the time that I him saw, Sen first he laid his fang on me, My self from him I dought ne're draw. His wink to me has been a Law, He haunts me like a Penny-dog, Of him I stand far greater aw Than Pupil does of Pedagogue. The first time that he met with me, Was at a Clachan in the West, Its name I trow Kilbarchan be, Where Habbies drons blew many a blast. There we shook hands, cald be his cast, An ill deed may that Custron die, For there he gripped me full fast, Where first I fell in Cautionry. Yet I had hopes to be reliev'd And fred from that full laidly Lown, Fernzier when Whigs were ill mischiev'd And forc'd to fling their weapons down. When we chas'd them fra Glasgow Town, I with that Swinzer thought to graple, But when Indemnity came down, The ladron pow'd me by the thraple. And yet in hopes of some Relief A Rade I made to Arinfrew, Where they did bravely buff my beeff, And made my Body black and blew: At Justice Court I them pursue, Expecting help by their Reproof, Indemnity brought nothing due, The D--- a farthing for my Loof. But wishing that I would ride East, To trot on foot I soon would tyre, My page allow'd me not a beast, I wanted guilt to pay the hyre. He and I lap o're many a fire, He hooked me at Calder Cult, But lang or I wan to Snyps-myre The Ragged Rogue took me a whilt. By Holin-bush and Bridge of Bony, We bicker down towards Bankier, We fear'd no Reavers for our money, Nor Whilly-wha's to grip our gear. My tattred Tutor took no fear, Tho we did travail in the mirk, He thought it fit when we drew near To filsh a Forage at Falkirk. No man would open me the door Because my Commorad stood by, They dread full ill I was right poor By my forcasten Company. Then Cunningham did me espy, By hue and hair he brought me in. He swore we should not part so dry, Though we were naked to the skin.
We baid all Night, but lang e're day My curst Companion bade me rise, I start up soon and took my way, He needed not to bid me twice. But what to do we did advise, In Lithgow we might not sit down, On a Scots Groat we baited thrice, And in at Night to Edinburgh Town. We held the Lang-gate to Leith-wynd, Where poorest purses use to be, And in the Caltoun lodged fyne, Fit quarters for sik Companie. Yet the High-Town I fain would see, But that my Man did me discharge. He will'd me Blackburns Ale to prie, And muff't my baird it was right large. The morn I ventur'd up the wynd, And slung'd in at the Nether-bow, Thinking that Truiker for to tyne, Who does me damage what he dow. His Company he doth bestow On me to my great grief and pain: E're I the thrang could wrestle throw, The Lown was at my heels again. I grein'd to gang on the plain stanes, To see if Comerades wad me ken, We twa gade paceing there our lanes, The hungry hour 'twixt twelve and ane, When I kend no way for to fen, My guts rumbl'd like a Hurle barrow I din'd with Saints and Noblemen, Ev'n sweet St. Giles & Earl of Murray, Tykes Testment take him for his treat, I needed not my teeth to pike, Though I was in a cruel sweat, He set not by, say what I like: I call'd him Turk and traked Tyke, And wearied him with manie a curse; My bones were hard like a stone dyke, No Rig Marie was in my purse, Kind widow Caddel sent for me, To dine as she did oft forsooth, But ah! alas, that might not be, Her house was o're near the Tolbooth Yet God reward her for her love And kindness, which I had full found, Most readie still for my behove, Ere this Hells hound took her in hand I slipt my page and stour'd to Leith, To try my credit at the wine, But foul a drible fil'd my teeth, He gript me at the coffee sign. I sta down through the Nether wynd, My Lady Semples house was near! To enter there was my design, Where Povertie durst ne're appear,
I din'd there, but I bade not long, My Lady fain would shelter me, But ah! alas I needs must gang, And leave that comelie companie: Her Lad convey'd me with a key, Out through the Garden to the fields Ere I the Links could graithlie see, My governour was at my heels, I dought not dance to pi[pe] or harp, I had no stock for cards and dice; But I suir to Sir William Sharp; Who never made his council nice: That little man he is Right wise, And sharp as any Brier can be, He bravelie gave me his advice, How I might poyson povertie. Quoth he, there grows hard by the Dyal In Hattons Garden bright and sheen, A soveraign herb call'd penny Royal, Whilk all the year grows fresh & green Could you but gatther fair and clean, Your business would not go backward, But let account of it be seen, From the physicians of Exchequer, Or if that Ticket ye bring with you, Come back to me you need not fear, For I some of that herb can give you, Whilk I have planted this same year, Your page it will cause disappear, Who waits on you against your will; To gather it I shall you lear, In my own Yard of Stonny hill, But when I dread that would not work I underthought me of a wile, How I might at my leasure lurk, My graceless Guardian to beguile: It's but my galloping a mile; Through Cannongate with little loss. Till I have Sanctuarie a while, Within the Girth of Abbey closs: There I wan in and blyth was I, When to the inner court I drew, My governour I did defy. For joy I clapt my wings and crew. There Messengers dare not pursue, Nor with their wands mens shoulders steer There dwells distressed Lairds enew In peace though they have little gear, There twa hours I did not tarie, Till my blest fortune was to see A sight sure by the mights of Mary, Of that brave Duke of Albanie. Where one blink of his princely eye, Put that foul foundling to the flight. Fra me he banisht povertie, And gart him take his last goodnight.
FINIS.