Old Ballads | Page 6

the
olden time.
His hall so old was hung around With pikes, and guns, and bows, And
swords and good old bucklers That had stood against old foes; 'Twas
there "his worship" sat in state, In doublet and trunk hose, And quaff'd
his cup of good old sack To warm his good old nose-- Like a fine old
English gentleman, All of the olden time.
When winter's cold brought frost and snow, He open'd his house to all;
And though three-score and ten his years, He featly led the ball. Nor
was the houseless wanderer E'er driven from his hall; For while he
feasted all the great, He ne'er forgot the small-- Like a fine old English
gentleman, All of the olden time.
But time, though sweet, is strong in flight, And years roll swiftly by;
And autumn's falling leaves proclaim'd The old man--he must die! He
laid him down quite tranquilly, Gave up his latest sigh; And mournful
stillness reign'd around, And tears bedew'd each eye-- For this good old
English gentleman, All of the olden time.
Now, surely this is better far Than all the new parade Of theatres and
fancy balls, "At home" and masquerade! And much more economical,
For all his bills were paid, Then leave your new vagaries quite, And
take up the old trade-- Of a fine old English gentleman, All of the olden
time.
Anon.

THE BAY OF BISCAY O!
Loud roared the dreadful thunder! The rain a deluge showers! The
clouds were rent asunder By lightning's vivid powers! The night, both
drear and dark, Our poor devoted bark, Till next day, there she lay, In
the Bay of Biscay O!
Now dashed upon the billow, Our op'ning timbers creak; Each fears a
wat'ry pillow, None stop the dreadful leak! To cling to slipp'ry shrouds,
Each breathless seaman crowds, As she lay, till the day, In the Bay of
Biscay O!
At length the wished-for morrow Broke through the hazy sky;
Absorbed in silent sorrow, Each heaved the bitter sigh; The dismal
wreck to view, Struck horror to the crew, As she lay, on that day, In the
Bay of Biscay O!
Her yielding timbers sever, Her pitchy seams are rent; When Heaven,
all-bounteous ever, Its boundless mercy sent! A sail in sight appears,
We hail her with three cheers! Now we sail, with the gale, From the
Bay of Biscay O!
_Andrew Cherry._

BLACK-EYED SUSAN.
All in the Downs the fleet was moored, The streamers waving in the
wind, When black-eyed Susan came on board: "Oh! where shall I my
true love find? Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true, If my sweet
William sails among your crew?"
William, who high upon the yard, Rocked by the billows to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard, He sighed, and cast his eyes
below: The cord glides swiftly through his glowing hands, And, quick
as lightning, on the deck he stands.
So the sweet lark, high poised in air, Shuts close his pinions to his
breast (If, chance, his mate's shrill call he hear), And drops at once into
her nest: The noblest captain in the British fleet Might envy William's
lips those kisses sweet.
Oh, Susan! Susan! lovely dear! My vows shall ever true remain; Let me
kiss off that falling tear, We only part to meet again: Change as ye list,
ye winds! my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to

thee.
Believe not what the landsmen say, Who tempt with doubts thy
constant mind; They tell thee--sailors when away In every port a
mistress find! Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so, For thou
art present wheresoe'er I go.
If to fair India's coast we sail, Thine eyes are seen in diamonds bright;
Thy breath in Afric's spicy gale, Thy skin in ivory so white: Thus every
beauteous object that I view Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely
Sue.
Though battle call me from thy arms, Let not my pretty Susan mourn;
Though cannons roar, yet free from harms, William shall to his dear
return: Love turns aside the balls that round me fly, Lest precious tears
should drop from Susan's eye.
The boatswain gave the dreadful word, The sails their swelling bosoms
spread; No longer must she stay on board: They kissed, she sighed, he
hung his head. Her lessening boat, unwilling, rows to land; "Adieu!"
she cried, and waved her lily hand.
_J. Gay._

DUNCAN GRAY.
Duncan Grey came here to woo, Ha, ha, the wooing o't, On blythe yule
night when we were fou, Ha, ha, the wooing o't. Maggie coost' her head
fu' high, Look'd asklent and unco skeigh, Gart poor Duncan stand
abeigh; Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd; Ha, ha,