%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Banishment of Poverty by J.D. of Albany: 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 05/20/2016 34450

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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

R37028 POx fa that pultran Poverty, / Wae worth the time that I him saw Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 643 The Banishment of Poverty by J.D. of Albany: The Banishment of Poverty by J.D. of Albany: The Banishment of Poverty by J.D. of Albany: ?-?

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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 5/20/2016 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America class economics/ commerce nobility/ court servitude Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 5/20/2016 10:55:04 AM XBallad Levinson-Emley, Rachel Created XML Version of Ballad 5/20/2016 10:55:04 AM Transcription Supervisor Palmer, Megan Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/20/2016 10:55:04 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Adkison, Katie Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/20/2016 10:55:04 AM Transcriptionist Two Levinson-Emley, Rachel Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/20/2016 10:55:04 AM Transcriptionist One Bell, Erik Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/29/2016 Checker Erik Bell Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 12/1/2014 Checker Kristen McCants Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/27/2014 Checker Kristen McCants Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/14/2014 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">The Banishment of</hi></hi> <hi rend="italic">Poverty <hi rend="bold">by</hi> J.D. <hi rend="bold">of</hi> Albany:</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">To the Tune of the</hi> Last Good Night.</hi></seg>
POx fa that pultran Poverty, Wae worth the time that I him saw Since first he laid his Fang on me Myself 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 Habies Drons gave many a blast. There we shook hands, cald be his cast, An ill dead may that Custron die: For there he gripped me right fast When first I fell in Cautionrie. But yet in hopes to be reliev'd, And free'd from that foul Ladlie Lown, Fernzier when Whigs were ill mischiv'd And forc'd to fling their Weapons down When we chas'd them from Glasgow Town, I with that Swinger thought to grapple, But when Indemnity came down, The Laydron caught me by the Thraple. But yet in hopes of more relief, A race I made to Arinfrew. Where they did bravely buff my Beef, And made my Body Black and Blew. At Justice Court I them pursu'd, Expecting help for their Reproof, Indemnity thought nothing due, The Deivil a farthing for my Loof. But wishing that I might ride East, To trot on Foot I soon would tyre, My Page allow'd me not a Beast, I wanted Gilt to pay the Hyre: He and I lap o're many a Syre, I heuked him at Calder-cult. But long ere I came to Clypes-myre The ragged Rogue caught me a while. By Holand Bush and Bridge of Bonny We bickered down towards Bankier, We fear'd no Revers for our Money, Nor whilly whaes to grip our Gear: My tattered Tutor took no Fear, (Though he did travel in the Mirk) But thought it fit when he drew near To filsh a Forrage at Falkirk. No Man wou'd open me the Door, Because my Comerade stood by, They dread full ill I was right poor By my forsaken Company. But Cunninghame soon me espy'd, By how and hair he hail'd me in. And swore we should not part so dry, Though I were stripped to the Skin. I baid all night but long ere day, My curst companion bade me rise, I start up soon and took the way, He needed not to bid me twice. But what to do I did advise, In Lithgow I might not sit down, On a Scots Groat we balted thrice; And in at night to Edinburgh Town. We held the Long gate to Leith Wind, Where poorest Purses use to be, And in the Caltoun lodged fyne, Fit Quarters for such Companie. Yet I the High-Town fain would see, But that my Comrad did me discharge, He would me Blakburns Ale to prie, And must my Beard that was right large, The morn I ventured up the Wynd, And sloug'd in at the Neather-Bow, Thinking that Trooker for to tyne, Who does me Damnage what he dow: His company he does bestow On me to my great grief and Pain, Ere I the Throng cou'd wrestle throw The Lown was at my Heels again. I green'd to gang on the Plain-stanes, To see if Comrades wou'd me ken; We twa ga[?]d pacing there our laines The hungery Howr twixt twelve and One, Then I knew no way how to fen, My Guts ruml'd like a Hurle-borrow,
I din'd with Saints and Noble Men, Ev'n sweet St. Giels and Earl of Murray; Tykes Testment take them for their Treat, For I needed not my Teeth to pick, 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 many a Curse, My Banes were hard like a Stane-Dyke No Rig Maria was in my Purse: Kind Widdow Caddel sent for me To dine, as she did oft forsooth, But oh alas that might not be! For her House was too near the Tolbooth; Yet God reward her for her Love, And kindness which I feckful found, Most ready still for my behove Ere that 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 fyl'd my Teeth, He catch'd me at the Coffee Sign I flaw down through the Neasher-Wynd. My Lady Semples House was near, To enter there was my design Where Poverty durst ne're appear. I dined there, but I baid not long, My Lady fain wou'd shelter me, But oh alas! I needs must gang And leave that comely Company. Her Lad convoy'd me with her Key Out through the Garden to the Fields; Ere I the Links could graithly see My Governour was at my Heels. I dought not dance to Pipe nor Harp I had no stock for Cards nor Dice, But I sure to Sir William Sharp Who never made his counsel nice. That little man he is right wise And sharp as any Brier can be; He bravely gave me his advice How I might Poison Poverty. Quoth he there grows hard by the Dial In Hattons Garden bright and sheen a soveraign Herb, call'd Penny Royal Which all the year grows fresh and green. Could you but gather it fair and clean, Your Busines would not go backward, But let account of it be seen To the Physicians of Exchequer. Or if their Ticket ye bring with you Come unto me, ye need not fear For I some of that Herb can give you Which I have planted this same Year. It will cause your Page disappear Who wait, on you against your will; To gather it I shall you lear In my own Yards of Stony-hill, But when I dread that would not work I over thought me of a Wile How I might at my leisure lurk My Graceless Guardian to beguil. but my galloping a Mile Through Cannongate with little loss, Till I have Sanctuary a while Within the Girth of Abby-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 dwels distressed Lairds anue In peace tho they have little Gear: I had not tarried an Hour or two, When my blest Fortune was to see A sight sure by the mights of Mary Of that brave Duke of Albany. Where one blink of his Princly Eye Put that soul Foundring to the flight, Frae me he banish'd Poverty And made him take his last Good-night.
FINIS.