An auncient wag-|
gonere stoppeth ane
tailore going to a
he hath been ap-
pointed to be best
manne, and to take
a hand in the casting
of the slippere.
The waggonere in
The tailore seized
IT is an auncient Waggonere,|
And hee stoppeth one of nine:—
‘Now wherefore dost thou grip me soe
With that horny fist of thine?
‘The bridegroom’s doors are opened wide,
And thither I must walke;
Soe, by youre leave, I must be gone,
I have noe time for talke!’
Hee holds him with his horny fist—
‘There was a wain,’ quothe hee,
‘Hold offe, thou raggamouffine tykke.’
Eftsoones his fist dropped hee.
He listeneth like|
a three years and a
Hee satte him downe upon a stone,|
With ruefulle looks of feare;
And thus began this tippsye manne,
The red-nosed waggonere.
The appetite of|
the tailore whetted
by the smell of
‘The waine is fulle, the horses pulle,|
Merrilye did we trotte
Alonge the bridge, alonge the road,
A jolly crewe, I wotte;’—
And here the tailore smotte his breaste,
He smelte the cabbage potte!
in talking anent
Boreas, maketh bad
‘The night was darke, like Noe’s arke,|
Oure waggone moved alonge;
The hail pour’d faste, loude roared the blaste,
Yet stille we moved alonge;
And sung in chorus, “Cease, loud Borus,”
A very charminge songe.
Their mirth in-|
‘“Bravoe, bravissimoe,” I cried,|
The sounde was quite elatinge;
But, in a trice, upon the ice,
We hearde the horses skaitinge.
And the passengers|
in the pleasant art
of swimminge, as
dooth also their
prog, to witte, great
store of colde roas-
ted beef; item, ane
item, viii choppines
‘The ice was here, the ice was there,|
It was a dismale mattere,
To see the cargoe, one by one,
Flounderinge in the wattere!
‘With rout and roare, we reached the shore,
And never a soul did sinke;
But in the rivere, gone for evere,
Swum our meate and drinke.
hailethe ane goose
with ane novel
‘At lengthe we spied a goode grey goose,|
Thorough the snow it came;
And with the butte ende of my whippe,
I hailed it in Goddhis name.
‘It staggered as it had been drunke,
So dexterous was it hitte;
Of brokene boughs we made a fire,
Thomme Loncheone roasted itte.’—
The tailore im-|
patient to be gone,
but is forcibly per-
suaded to remain.
‘Be done, thou tipsye waggonere,|
To the feaste I must awaye.’—
The waggonore seized him bye the coatte,
And forced him there to staye,
Begginge, in gentlemanlie style,
Butte halfe ane hour’s delaye.
bowels yearn to-
wards the sunne.
‘The crimson sunne was rising o’ere|
The verge of the horizon;
Upon my worde, as faire a sunne
As ever I clapped eyes onne.
throwe the blame
of the goose mass-
acre on the inno-
‘“’Twill bee ane comfortable thinge,”|
The mutinous crewe ’gan crye;
“’Twill be ane comfortable thinge,
Within the jaile to lye;
Ah! execrable wretche,” saide they,
“Thatte caused the goose to die!”
The sunne suf-|
feres ane artificial
eclipse, and horror
follows, the same
not being mentioned
in the Belfaste Al-
‘The day was drawing near itte’s close,|
The sunne was well nighe settinge;
When lo! it seemed as iffe his face
Was veiled with fringe-warke-nettinge.
‘Somme saide itte was ane apple tree,
Laden with goodlye fruite,
Somme swore itte was ane foreigne birde,
Some said it was ane brute;
Alas! it was ane bumbailiffe
Riding in pursuite!
Ane lovelye sound|
ariseth; ittes ef-
Ane hue and crye sterte uppe behind,|
Whilke smote our ears like thunder.
Within the waggone there was drede,
Astonishmente and wonder.
‘One after one, the rascalls rann,|
And from the carre did jump;
One after one, one after one,
They felle with heavy thump.
‘Six miles ane houre theye offe did scoure;
Like shippes on ane stormye ocean,
Theire garments flappinge in the winde,
With ane shorte uneasy motion.
bumbailifie with ane
‘Their bodies with their legs did flye,|
Theye fled with feare and glyffe;
Why star’st thoue soe?—With one goode blow,
I felled the bumbailiffe!’
The tailore meet-|
eth Corporal Feare.
‘I feare thee, auncient waggonere,|
I feare thy hornye fiste,
For itte is stained with goose’s gore,
And bailiffe’s blood, I wist.
‘I fear to gette ane fisticuffe
From thy leathern knuckles brown’;
With that the tailore strove to ryse—
The waggonere thrusts him down.
‘Thou craven, if thou mov’st a limbe,
I’ll give thee cause for feare;’
And thus went on that tipsye man,
The red-billed waggonere.
The bailiffe com-|
plaineth of con-
ment of his animal
‘The bumbailiffe so beautiful|
Declared itte was no joke,
For, to his knowledge, both his legs
And fifteen ribbes were broke.
pursue the wag-
‘The lighte was gone, the nighte came on,|
Ane hundrede lantherns’ sheen
Glimmerred upon the kinge’s highwaye—
Ane lovelye sighte, I ween.
‘“Is it he,” quoth one, “is this the manne?
I’ll laye the rascalle stiffe;”—
With cruel stroke the beak he broke
Of the harmless bumbailiffe.
feete in imitatione
of the Admirable
‘The threatening of the saucye rogue|
No more I coulde abide;
Advancing forthe my goode right legge
Three paces and a stride,
I sent my lefte foot dexterously
Seven inches thro’ his side.
foul play and falleth
down in ane trance.
‘Up came the seconde from the vanne;|
We had scarcely fought a round,
When someone smote me from behinde,
And I fell down in a swound:
One acteth the|
parte of Job’s com-
‘And when my head began to clear,|
I heard the yemering crew—
Quoth one, “this man hath penance done,
And penance more shall do.”’
maketh ane shrewd
‘O Freedom is a glorious thing!—|
And, tailore, by the by,
I’d rather in a halter swing,
Than in a dungeon lie.
tickleth the spleen
of the jailer, who
daunces ane Fan-
‘The jailere came to bring me foode,|
Forget it will I never,
How he turned up the white o’ his eye
When I stuck him in the liver.
Rejoicethe in the|
fragrance of the aire.
‘His threade of life was snapt: once more|
I reached the open streete;
The people sung out “Gardyloo”
As I ran down the streete.
Methought the blessed air of heaven
Never smelte so sweete.
Dhu, the corporal
of the guarde.
‘Once more upon the broad highwaye,|
I walked with feare and drede;
And every fifteen steppes I tooke
I turned about my heade,
For feare the corporal of the guarde
Might close behind me trede!
‘Behold, upon the western wave
Setteth the broad bright sunne;
So I must onward, as I have
Full fifteen miles to runne;—
taketh leave of the
‘And should the bailiffes hither come|
To aske whilke way I’ve gone,
Tell them I took the othere road,’
Said hee, and trotted onne.
to whome ane small|
Whereupon follow -
eth the morale very
proper to be had
in minde by all
members of the
when they come
over the bridge
at these houres.
Wherefore let them
take heed and not
lay blame where it
The tailore rushed into the roome,|
O’erturning three or foure;
Fractured his skulle against the walle,
And worde spake never more!!
MORALE.Such is the fate of foolish men,
The danger all may see,
Of those, who list to waggonere,
And keepe bad companye.