THE YORKSHIRE ONGSTER LOYAL BRITON's COMPANION BEING* A Collection of favorite Old Songs. 9 5 1 THE STORM, 2 PATRICK O'NEAL. 3 THE SCOUTS OF THE CITY. 4 LASS OS' OCR AM. 5 HESSEY MOOR BATTLE. 6 VICAR AND MOSES. 7 WHERE IS MY LOVJ&. J, Kewjrew, Printer, Coilier-Gate, Yoi&k. THE STOKM. jjf^tifc rude Boreas, bluft'nng railer, Lift ye landfmen all to me, Meffrnates hear a brother failor, m g the dangers of the fea ; j'jom bounding billows firft in motion, V/hen the diftant whirlwinds rife, •i q the temperl- troubled ocean, WMwe the feas contend with Ikies. LlTELY. Hark ! the boatsfwarn hoarfely bawling, By top{ail meets, and haulyards ftand ! Down top-gallants quick be hauling ? Down your it ay. fails hand, boys, hand ! Now rt ftoient, let the braces s Qlgpk the topiail lLeets let go; Luff, Hoys, luff, don't make wry faces j Up your topfails nimbly clew. Slow. Now all you on down- beds fporting, Fondly lock'd in beauty's arms, Freih enjoyments wanton courting-, Free from all but love's alarms, . Bound us roars the tempeft louder 5 Think what fear our mind enthralls', Harder yet, it yet blows harder, Now again the boatfwain calls. Quick. The top-fail-yards point to the wind boys, See all clear to reef each cottrfe I Xet the fore- meets go, don't mind, boys, Though the weather mould be worfe ; Fore and aft the fpnt-fail yard get, ' Heef the mizen, fee ail clear, Hand up ! each preventer-brace fet, Man the fore- yard j cheer, lads, cheer ! Slow. Now the dreadful thunder's roaring ! i'eals on peals contending clafh ! On our heads fierce rain falls pouring, la our eyes blue lightcnings fiafh ! One wide water all around us, All above Us one black iky ! .OifF'rent deaths at oncefurround us ! Hark ^ what means that dreadful cry ? Q^roK. The fereinaft's gone, crjes eVry tongue out O'er the lee twelve feet 'bove d*ek, A leak beneath the cheft- tree's fprung o*t 3 Call all hands to clear the wreck ; Quick trie lanyards cut to pieces I Come, my hearts, be ftout and bold J Plumb the well, the leak increafes, Four feet water in the hold. Slow. While o'er the fliip wild waves are beating We for wives or children mourn ; Alas ! from hence there's no retreating; Alas ! from hence there's no return ; Still the leak is gaining on us, Both chain- pumps are choak'd belowj Heaven have mercy here upon us I For only that can fave us now ! Quick. , O'er the lee-beam is the land, boya, Let the guns o'er board be thrown, To the pump come every hand, boys, See our mizen-maft is gone; The leak we've found, it cannot pour faft, We've lightened her a foot or more, Up and rig g a jury fore-maft, She rights, me rights, boys ! wear offfiiore. Now once more on joys we're thinking, Since .kind fortune fpar'd our lives, Come, the can, boys, let's be drinking, To our fweethearts and our wives 5 Fill it up, about flu'p wheel it, Clofe to the lips a brimmer join, Where's the tempeft now ? who feels it ! None ? our danger's drown'd in wine. PATRICK O'NEAL. O ye fons of Hibernia who fnug on dry land, [whifky in yoHr hand, All round your fparkling turf fires, with Drink a health to la me fa, and think on , . the boys- [ and no tf e . -that's fighting your battles, thro' tempeft O attend to my ditty, as true I declare, Such fwimmings and linkings will make you all flare, [at my tail. Such ftorms, fqmbs, and crackers allwhiz'd Since the preffgang Ify hold gf poor f>«. trick O'JJical. r it was April the firft I fet off like a fool And they fung, curft and IaughM at 3 From Kilkenny to Dublin, to fee Larry poor Patrick O'Neal. Tool, f wrote down, Then a rough mouth'd rapfcalli«n on deck My mother's third coufin, who oft had did advance, ( all praice, Begging I would come and fee how he So hoarfe he whittled, which made them flourifh'd in town j [place, Upon the ropes feme like monkeys ran, But I fcarce put my foot in that teiribie fome I declare (ah', When I met with a fpaipeen, who fwore Like gibbets or rope dancers hung in the t ma* defy, 4 They clap fire on hh back, and bid him That his canifter Trent flap 'gainft the ftand ] e t gy ( by the tail, r i hen one of my companions coming $uch a crack made me jump, tho' 1 held When he heard the report of the blow, But the creature leap'd back, and kneck'd Saying well done my nice one, you have down poor Patrick O'Neal. done it, Then we rattled away, bv my foul hob or To another of theft rafcals we will go, no b, (a bad job, But as we were tolling along, Tilt the Frenchman gave up as he thought A night guardian we found faft afleep, tThea to tie him behind a large cord they Then down'd with his bos in a minute, did bring, (aftring; And tumbl'd the old b^^r in the ftreet And we tow'd him along like a pig in Then his lanthem & ftaff we did mizzle. So home to old England we dragged 'the And we kick'd them about in the ftreet, French boy, (for joy, And while we were at our diverGon, O the fight of the land made me feafick A rolling young doxy we did meet ; Then they made a frefh peace, when the She was one that follow'd the game, O, war thefe rafeds you'd never need to fear, You may be d..~, & all your- attendants, Tonmufl know from the rum ken we For none of us will uke your advice, AEd if )" e are Hot "g° ne m a ra!ntlte - V here the glims we all darken'd in a trice Your glims mall be dark'd in a trice ; And turning the corner of Gid Bedlam, Then like keroes we gave them battle. The fcouts thev laid me fiat on my face, • And we fhew'd them fuch gallows fije play 1 no fooner then the blow had recover d, Half a dozen lav fiat or. their Then I got up -nd Rood upon my pins, While the other icouts were glad to get Say ir.o- b««ft v«ur eyes vou old l>oco ;< x->or, away. : i willm,kf your old lanthem jaw, to ring O we made them remember the Ap pie, -Then his ratUe went to v orMo freely, The Apple which they thought fo fweet, T dipp-'d it clean oiu of his hand, Yet it I am not mdiaKcn, - Anrt I o- a v e him fuch a fell, from my hip, They met with a lour retwat; tVe banged the Marfhall arid ail his at- tendants, I 'fltil the claret from their hea^s did run, Wei! pleas' d at our night's divevfion, So contended all together we roli'dhorne. So I have no pity for thefe rafcals, And the reafon-1'9 I'll tell you very plain, As young men in the ftreets are walking. Each nio-ht in the wateh-houfe are de- tain'd, The next morning before Juftice W 00 * ** For foldiers or failors are fent. But I hope the lads that are left behind, Will bang them to their hearts content. THE LASS OF OCR AM. I BUILT my love a gallant Hiip> And a iinp of Northern fame; And fuch a Chip as I did build, Sure there w»as never feen, For her fides were all of beaten gold 5 And the doors were of block tin, And fuch a fine (hip as I built, There fure never was feen. And as fhe was failing all alone, She efpy'd a proud merchant man, Come ploughing all over the main, Thou faireft ©f all creatures faid fhe, I am the lafs of Ocram, Seeking for Lord Gregory. If you are the Lafs of Ocram, As I take you for to be, You muft go to yonder iSattd, '.t here Lord Gregory you'll fee. It rains upon my yellow locks, And the dew falls upon my fkiii, Open the gate Lord Gregory, And let your truelove in. If >ou're the LaL of Ocram, As 1 take you not to to be, Tou mult mention the three tokens Which pa ft between you and me. Don't you remember, Lord Gregory, One night upon my father's hill, Wit:'} you I ftfap'd my linen line, It was fore a gain ft my will ; ^Forrtiffewas of the .Holland fine.. And y<*irs but of Seots cloth. $ For mine coft a guinea a yard, And yours but five groats. If you are the Lafs of Ocram, As I think you not to be, ! You muft mentioR the fecond token Tfeit pafs'd between you anc me. Don't you remember, Lord Gregory, One night in my father's park, We fwap'd our two ring?, It was all is the oark 5 For mine was of the K eaten goldj And yours was of block tin. And mine was true love without, And yours all falfe within. If you aTe the lafs of Ocram, As I take you not to be, You muft mention the third toj^g Which pafs'd between yoi ?ud me. Don't you remember, Lord Gregory.. One night in my father's hall, Where you ftole my maiden-head, Which was the worft of all. Begone, you bafe creature, Begone from out of the hall, Or elfe in the deep feas You and your babe mall fall. Then who will fhoe my bonny feet, And who will clofe my hands, And who will lace my waift fo {mrv,,. Into a landen fpan, And who will comb my yellow, locks, With a brown berry comb, And who's the fattier of my child, If Lord Gregory is none ? Let your brother fhoe your bonny feet* Le: your sifter clofe your hands I yet your mother lace }o.ur waiil foirhni Into a landen fpan : Let your father comb your yellow lock With a brown berry comb. And let God be father of your child, For Lord Gregory is none. I dreamt a dream, dear mother, I could wifh to have it read, I faw the Lafs of Ocram A floating on the floocl. I Lie frill, my deareft fon, And take thy fweet reft, It is not half an hour ago, The maid pail this place. curled be you, mocher, And curled may you be, That you did not awake me, When the maki pafs'd this w&jr ; 1 will go down into Tome lilent grdve, My fad moan tor to make. It is for the Lafs of Ociam, My poor heart it now will break, HESSE Y MOOR BATTLE. All you that do delight in Bellona's drums to hear, (down by me herej All you that do love fighting, come fit And liften to my mufe awhile, who in a humble pleafant 11 lie (declare Went about for to compile news to de- TiOW the Cavr\!i?"~ atid the nobitr Peers ; were fore'd to yield, And how their haughty worfiiips were forced from the field. There was Newcaftle, Cavandifh, mod fa- mous in the wars, Who Britilli fwords did brandifh amidft York's {lately bars, Thinking thofe ftrong holda to keep, Winding themfelves in trenches deep, Either dead or faft afleep, but mark! then it was, (through a glal$ From a lofty tower, in a fatal hour, He cry'd, to his wonderful amaze, full forty thoufahd enemies \ O then what loud alarms, the drums and trumpets fend, (defend ; For all men to prepare their bulwarks to Lord Fairfax round heads many be full fa ft advancing. Then, faid he, they fwear to be reveng'd on me for Whisket-Hill : Then let them come an<$ fpare not, for I vow I care not, I'll fraud my ground, Though a Bafhtly and Kimbokon fwear they befiege me round. Then with flags of defiance this pioud Lord he difjplay'dj Tho' their men be like giants we'll beat 'eao back fit faid, For words they are but wind, and two of them to a bargain goes For we never found them fo kind a* to meet us on t,he plain, But in their camp and trenches, with their (hort heei'd wenches, lay lurking then, (them in again. Yet over as they peep'd, we whipp'd Prince Rupert he was walking between Oxford end Wales, (enemy prevails, Hearing of the woeful tidings, how the At which fad news he -vaxed wroth, marching from the pleafant fouth, Down into yonder north cold mouth, but then our lads did meet them, (tort, And on this wife did Greet him after fuch a D As if they had been Drought 119 at Mo- rocco Court. (cioue plain, Four miles from York city there lies a f pa- Being void of all pity met thofe armies twain ; (to get the victory, Then one the other did Jefy» both hop'd Yet none did know, but God on high,. • how it mult be, For when the drums did rattle, then be- gan the battle, trumoets then did found, Sure never braver foidiers e'er died on En- glim ground. Thirty thouiand gallant foidiers Prince Rupert brought along, And the Parliament's brave forces were five and forty iirong < The Prince's cannon play'd amain, our'3 roaring anfwtr'd them again, Till many a gentleman was flatn, and none wouid (brink, Until the Scottifh nation left their dedi- cation, and full faft did fly, Then the Prince'8 defperate forces pur- fu'd them furioufly. Altho' the round heads many be, they're foic'd to take their wing you fee, Thofe cowardly h ue caps how they ran, purfue and take them ev'ry one, Let none efcape, for to go home to tVtl what's done, But Cromwell over-hearing, firaight he fell a jeering, ^ zy> If it pleafe you, my lads, I'd have you to For I hope the game Is not loft, ws have more cards to play. Then came the Earl of Manchester, with his army of troops, (with hopes, Who never was amaz'd, but bravely fiil'd We fell upon thefe amaz'd troops again, more like devils then like men, O dainty blades ! but then came dainty Fairfax like a iecond Ajax, With his noble mortal blues, And he hew'd all down before kim, that durft his caufe oppofe. - (the fet, For a long time together, fo equal was No one did know on whether fide one penny for to bet, Their weapons were io well apply'd both on one and the oiher fide, The Prince, at length, for all his pride, was forced for to yield; Then with whoop and hollow, all the ar- ray follow'd, routing them fore, Seven thoufand were flain all on the open plain, we had three and they had four, But then fpoke Lord Fairfax, let's do our enemies no wrong, For they fought like iufty lions feereav'd of their young, Had not our lads flood ftoutly to it, we ihould have been routed hone & foot, To get this we had a bout, they fought like men fo ftout, JSor fomc would take no quarter, while their fwords could clatter, and lives were fpent, It was bravely fought on both fides, for King and Parliament. THE VICAR AND MOS3ES, THERE was once it is faid> When its out of my head, And there too yet true is my tale, That a big-bellied Vicar, Be-pimpled with liquor, CvM ftjgjt to AQ-Ust like good ale, At the fign' of the horfe, Old fpin-text of courfe, Each night took his pipe and his pot, O'er a bowl of brown nap£>y, C-iuite jovial and happy, Thus fat this canonical* fot, Tol de ro% He one night 'gan to dofe, For under the rofe, The Prieft was that night, non fe ipfe, Non fe ipfe you'll fay. What's that to the lay ? In plain Engliih, the Parfon was tipfey His Clerk Iteppingin, With a bang-bobbing chin, As folemn and flupid as may be, The Vicar he gap'd, The Clerk bow'd and fcrap'J, Saying, pleafe Sir, to bury a baby. Now our author fuppofes, The Clerk's name was Mofes, Who look'd at his Matter fo rofy, Who blink'd with one eye, With nis wig all awry, And hiccupt, well how is it, Mofey ? A child, Sir, is carry 'd, By you to be bury'd, Bury me, Mofey, no, that won't do. Why, Lord, fays the Clerk, You're all in the dark, 'Tis the child's to be bury'd, not you> Well, Mofey, don't hurry, The infant we'll bury, But Maftetf the corpfe cannot ilay, And can't it, for why ? For once then we'll try, If a corpfe, Mofey, can run away. But Mofes reply 'd, ' ^ Sir, the parilh will chide, For keeping them out in eoldweathefc Then Mofey, quoth he, You may tell 'em from me, I'll bury them warm all together. But, Sir, it rains hard, Pray have fome regard, Kegard! Mofey. that makes me sUr, For no corpfe, yotflfcg or old, In rain ean catch cq1& McCEL LIBRARY $ But faith, Mo fey, you and I may. Moles begg'd he'd begone, Saying, Sir, the rain's done, Play rife, and I'll lend you my hand, Oh, its hard quoth the Vicar, To leave this good liquor, And go, when I'm fure I can't (land, Then the Farfon fore troubled, Tp the church -yard he hobbled, Lamenting the length of the wav, Now Mofey, quoth he, Were I a &ifhcp, d'ye fee, I neither need waJk, preach, or pray. When he came to the grave, Says he, Mo-fey, a Have, Lord, where's my tobacco box hid, J pro t eft this fatft walking, Prevents me from talkiug, So Mofey pray give me a quid. Then be open'd the book, And on it feem'd to look, But. over the page only fquintcd, Saying, Mofey, I'm vext, For I can't find the text, The book is fo wretchedly printed. Good people let's pray, A^as, life's but a day, Nay. fometim.es "tis over at noon, Man is but a flower, Cut, down in an hoar, 'Tis ftrong ale, Mofey, does it fo foon. Woman of Man born, That's wrong the leaf's tors, On Woman the natural fwell is; The world would run wild, Were men got with child, Mofey vou and I might have big bellies. Our guts would be prefs'd hard, Were men got with baftards, J low natural are our fuppofes, What \I id-wife could do it, She'd jbe sorely put to it, Lord blef. me to lay me and Mofes. Neighbours, mind what I fay, When its night 'tis not day, Tho' in former times faints could work Could ;a ; i'e from the dead, (miracle^ There's no more to be faiull are the hours, the moments grown, They mock my utmoit fkUl and art. The birds no longer chearful fing, The fong and dance are fled the greeny The bells a mournful peal now ring, Lamenting he no more is feen. Silent I tread the orange grove, The jefamine bower, the woodbine made, Where he oft /ow'd eternal love, And I believ'd each word he faid ; *No more they charm, no more they plea/e ? They join in fympathetic %hs, Not all their fweets can give me eafe ; Till he returns to blefs my eyes. J. Kendrew, Printer, CoJJicrgate, York,