%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Ballad-Makers Complaint: / OR, / The Satyrick Lamentation of the Trades Involved, / that their Labours permit them no time to reflect on Old Long Syne 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 04/06/2015 35527

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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

Should old pleasures be forgot / and neuer thought vpon: I'Ve cry'd my wares al down the streets / no soul doth harke to this. For I'le long sigh my Job, / oh I'le long sigh, / Here thou canst neuer earn respect, / so I'le long sigh. Oh, I'le long sigh, my Job, / for Old Long Syne, / We ne'er have time for to reflect / on Old Long Syne! [with variation] Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 1 The Ballad-Makers Complaint: / OR, / The Satyrick Lamentation of the Trades Involved, / that their Labours permit them no time to reflect on Old Long Syne The Ballad-Makers Complaint: OR, The Satyrick Lamentation of the Trades Involved, that their Labours permit them no time to reflect on Old Long Syne The Ballad-Maker's Complaint: OR, The Satiric Lamentation of the Trades Involved, that their Labors permit them no time to reflect on Old Long Syne Printer EMCImprint ?-?

This document follows the guidelines specified for TEI.

XML Generated Automatically at 4/6/2015 10:44:05 AM Using EMC

XBallad Parsing Engine developed by Carl G Stahmer.

TEI Template developed by Gerald Egan and Modified by Carl Stahmer

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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 4/6/2015 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America class economics/ commerce entertainments labor/ craft servitude Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/6/2015 10:44:05 AM XBallad McCants, Kristen Created XML Version of Ballad 4/6/2015 10:44:05 AM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/6/2015 10:44:05 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/6/2015 10:44:05 AM Transcriptionist Two McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/6/2015 10:44:05 AM Transcriptionist One McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/6/2015 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left">The Ballad-Makers Complaint:</seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">OR,</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Satyrick Lamentation of the Trades Involved,</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">that their Labours permit them no time to reflect on <hi rend="bold">Old Long Syne</hi></hi></seg>
Should old pleasures be forgot and never thought upon: The thrill of work extinguished and Jolly past and g[o]ne: For this poore mule has gr[o]wn so old[e], the coffin be most kind, Dead thou canst no more reflect on Old Long Syne. For I'le long sigh my Job, oh I'le long sigh, Here thou canst never earn respect, so I'le long sigh. We've runne out of t's again, I had to spell 'the' 'she'; Forgot the leading 'twixt the lines, now Master shall strike me. The deep displeasure of his [f]ace so fills this heart o' mine, I slipt some inke inside his ale: Now he'll longe sigh. For I'le long sigh my Job, oh I'le long sigh, Here thou canst never earn respect, so I'le long sigh.
Woodcarving doth not banish woes, when faces are involv'd. My tool chipt off the Queen her nose, this cut shant be absolv'd; To curtezan I shal turn thee, with mole beneath thyne Eye: Thy skirts i'th stewes the Men shall sieze, oh I'le long sigh. For I'le long sigh my Job, oh I'le long sigh, Here thou canst never earn respect, so I'le long sigh. Oh papermaking pray prove more kinde and pull on me not stil; Since al my clothes ye have for pulp, my wife saith mee shee'l kill: These vatman's tears thwart my suc-cess, she'll beat mee with disdaine: Such strife doth make me want to couch, for Old Long Syne. For I'le long sigh my Job, oh I'le [l]ong sigh, Here thou canst never earn respect, so I'le long sigh.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Second Part. To the Same Tune.</hi></seg>
I'Ve cry'd my wares al down the streets, no soul doth harke to this. Oh hawking is a thanklesse task when London smells of piss. I'le sing this tune til voyce grows hoarse my wyfe can't hear my 'Fie The Beadle chases. 'Vagrant, cease! so I'le long sigh. Oh, I'le long sigh, my Job, for Old Long Syne, We ne'er have time for to reflect on Old Long Syne! But first of al the ballad tale an author must conceive. Poor I remayne tho' publish'd wel: Curs'd Anonymity. With quill gone dry and paper blanke my Help-mate is the pint. I should become a Roguish Cranke, so I'le no more sigh. Oh, I'le long sigh, my Job, for Old Long Syne, We ne'er have time for to reflect on Old Long Syne!
I'l rayse a pot to the balladeers, with Tinker joyn the Fee; Wee'l sing my Song to please thine Ears, and drinke a health to mee. I'le post my Ballads on the Walls, and merrie times ye'll find, With pulp and inke and cuts enthral'd Thou'rt drawne to my designe. Oh, I'le long sigh, my Job, for Old Long Syne, We ne'er have time for to reflect on Old Long Syne! Oh, I'le no more sigh, my Job, for Old Long Syne, We raise a glass for to reflect on Old Long Syne!
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