%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> THE MEAL MONGERS GARLAND / Containing two excellent new SONGS / Part 1st. The Meal Mongers intreagues and Resolutions. Part: 2d, The Buyers Answer, University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 07/16/2014 34311

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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

T171950 2 Death and the Lady UNKNOWN Death and the Lady The Meal was dear short-sine. UNKNOWN The Meal was dear short sine. COme Willie I'll tell you the News / and they are very good, FIre Brands of Satan are you then resolv'd / To live and die where you are now involv'd Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 79 THE MEAL MONGERS GARLAND / Containing two excellent new SONGS / Part 1st. The Meal Mongers intreagues and Resolutions. Part: 2d, The Buyers Answer, THE MEAL MONGER'S GARLAND Containing two excellent new SONGS Part 1st. The Meal Monger's intrigues and Resolutions. Part: 2d, The Buyer's Answer, ?-?

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<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">THE MEAL MONGERS GARLAND</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">Containing two excellent new SONGS</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">Part 1st.</hi> The Meal Mongers intreagues and Resolutions. <hi rend="bold">Part: 2d,</hi> The Buyers Answer,</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To the Tune of, <hi rend="bold">The Meal was dear short-sine.</hi></hi></seg>
The First Part. COme Willie I'll tell you the News and they are very good, The Frost has hindred the plows And all the Poor wants Food, How mickle Meal hae ye? And where will ye gang we'd? We will not yet supplie, Till they be almost Dead, Will ye be rul'd by me, And I will lead the way, And we will send to see, On every Merkat day. What rates each Market bears, For fear the Price should fall And the Markets we will forestall. In every Market Town, Our orderly Man shall stand And raise the peck to a Crown, So we'll get all free Land, With Masks and Fans and Gloves, Our Daughters shall be bra, Our Lads shall Court their Loves With Whips and Spurs and a. In Heads so finely drest With Ribbons our Wives shall flee, And we among the rest Will Swagger like who but we. We'll a buy famous Hatts With boots and spurs and Wigg Housings and Hulster caps, O wooe but we'll look bigg. And we'll hae pistols too In ye'll believe my Word, Then what will the Countrey do When each of us get's a Sword And each a box of Snuff The best and not the worst, O then! how we will huff! We'll a be finely Horst. The best Cloath can be had We'll all buy for our Cloaths, Then all that can be said There rides the Oatmeal beaus
And we'll buy lusty purses To hold our ill gotten gain, And a Bag for to hold all the Curses And then we will swagger amain.. What dill man art thou mad? Or have you lost your sence? Where's all the wit ye had? Ye'd better hoord up your pence: For this time will not hold The price o' the meil will fall, Alas! it is no jeast, Ah, that's the Devil and all. Make Porrige and Sowens but thin, And tell the lads this Year, The eating of much, is a Sin, For Corn and meal is dear, Tell them that many Poor Men Eat Herbs and drink clear Water Sav't from the Servants if ye can But the poor shall be little better. We'll a hord up the meil As long as ever we can What ever we have conceal'd Confess it to never a Man, Till all of them Cringe and bow And cry dear Sir we want A bushel of meil for a Cow, O then! brave Boys we'll rant. Take care my dearest honey Take care of money ill gotten. Pish, Woman, if I get the Money I value not Conscience a Butten; Let all the poor folk Curse And all the Curses fall, If I get a pondrous purse, I care not a fig for them all. I'll raise my family, And none shall me controul, And when I come to Die, If I have lost my Soul, For giving so little a Peck, And taking so mickle gain, I'll tie my self into my sack And in Hell it will keep out the Flames.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Second PART</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">C</hi>ontaining the <hi rend="bold">B</hi>uyers Answer,</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">To the Tune of,</hi> Death <hi rend="bold">and the</hi> Lady.</hi></seg>
FIre Brands of Satan are you then resolv'd To live and die where you are now involv'd Under the Curse of him that is most high, Who hears the poor when they to him do cry. Think you your Sack shall keep away his wrath Or yet your Money when you yield your Breath: And will you give your Souls eternally, For Earthly rotten wasting Vanity? What is your Gold you by Extortion get, Or what your Silver, will it make you great? Goods by extortion got will soon decrease And blast at once all that you do possess. Cursed are ye who do the Corn withhold, And blest is he that Corn and Meal hath sold, To serve the poor with righteous lawful gain, His Substance shall with him and his remain. But ye that hord up meal till it be rotten, And buries it where it must be forgotten When it's in crawling Worms and red and blew, Heavens direful Curse will surely fall on you. Wretch can thou hear thy brother cry (I want) And thou have plenty and the poor man scant? And wilt thou take his Coat and Shirt away, For as much food as saves his life one day? Sure if thou dost, thou'st made a league with Hell And hast struck hands with Belzebub to dwell, This is thy fate, thou can't expect another, That sets thy self to starve thy Christian Brother. Thou cannot eat thy own food with content, And what thy Servants gets thou thinks ill spent If thou could get thy barn fil'd full of Oar, For one small peck of Meal thou would have more.
Ask all men in the Earth if they can tell Of one that e'er grew rich with selling Meal, I mean a Man that took unlawful gains And if his Riches with his Seed remains. The wealthy Glutton would not Lazarus feed, But let him starve and die for want of Bread. And yet the Glutton dies as well as he And is convey'd to endless misery. Whilst Richer Lazarus Alleluja's sings In Ab'rams bosom to the King of Kings, Think on this man, all ye that starve the poor, The Gluttons Portion's yours ye may be sure. Ye that the needy do for Silver Sell, And for a pair of shoes the Poor, (mark well) That make the Epha small the Shekel great And sell the base refuse of all your Wheat. We fear you not, keep't as closs up's ye can We'll trust to heaven, we're sure he can command Food for to fall where Corn never grew. And we can live by Faith, so cannot you. For we believe and we are sure 'tis true, We'll have a seed time and a harvest too Then be ye sure the price of meal will fall And that will strick you to the very gall. So then the day that's yours he'll quickly turn When we shall laugh, then ye shall howl and mourn For he that set you up on hie will then, turn o'er the scale and cast you down again. And after that thou never more shall rise For all the Devil and thou can e'er devise, This day is posting, it is past thy noon Thou shalt be cropt and lobt and so cut down. Ye base Extortioners think how ye'll dwell, In burning flames in everlasting Hell, Take warning then, and feed the poor at last And heaven perhaps will pardon what is past.
FINIS.