TIPTREE FAIR IN 18H: A CURIOUS SPECIMEN OF THE “UNLETTERED MUSE.” TOTHAM PRIVATE PRESS. TIPTREE FAIR IN 1844: & curious Specimen of tfie “unlettered JHuse.” BY “ J ; B. Hr * f More than I saw *tis ’gainst the law To write.” — Page 6. NOW FIRST PRINTED , VERBATIM , FROM THE AUTHOR'S MANUSCRIPT . ft &*rp limits number printed. TIPTREE HEATH: PRINTED AT CHARLES CLARK’S PRIVATE PRESS. 1848 . . TIPTREE FAIR IN 1844 . [®I)C author’s punctuation, etc. is strictly pvcscrbctt.] HOT was the morn, and ripe the corn, The wheats the oats and barley; Strew’d was my way with flow’rs so gay, And roses blooming fairly; Each pretty maid had projects laid, That morning e’er so early: Sweet words t’ impart to win the heart, Of him she loved so dearly. All seem’d bliglisome, heartsseem’dlightsome, On this charming morning; Each Gigg and chaise, turn’d crooked ways. All accidences scorning! Mere infants laugh’d, as quick they pass’d; As if the Giggs were born in; And ev’ry Gent, had their heads bent, Beneath some bonnet, fawning:. I with the rest dress’d in my best, Was struting most alarming When on my right enrobed in white, I spied a maid so charming Her step was light, her eyes were bright, — I felt my bosom warming Oh! temptation! What a sweet sensation! To feel the soul transforming. My bosom shook, nor dare I look, But just askew upon her Yet by her side I sly did glide, ’Till shame upon my honour Call’d me an ass; and bid me pass, And ever more to shun her, But O, I loved, and as she moved, I knew I ne’er could spurn her. •i - •• '• . >• *t\ Jt— ' * " - 1 ' - - ’ . • <■ J ■ ' : t- ■ ■ ■ * •- ' — • 4 & *- h ... ■ . i yrn is c; . d a «< '• '• - T ■■ • ■■■•: ftiptm dFair in V To m y great joy as I pass’d by On her sweet lips was playing A gentle smile, which did beguile I beg excuse the saying , I ventured then as gallant men I could not bear delaying! T’ imbrace that form, and brave the storm , Without any more surveying. Forbear she cried, you will be spied! I intreat thee wait a while, sir! Too soon I fear, you’ve learnt to jeer,— With flattery to beguile sir, — If you’re sincere, you’ve nought to fear — Within a half a mile* sir, Some maidens sweet, you’ll surely meet, Dress’d in the grandest stile sir. There's pretty maids, old hags and jades, Of all denominations There’s one for you, and Joskins too, No matter what’s their stations At any price, yes, in a trice! — You want no explanations, May have a wife, not for your life, But for your gratifications. Alas! cried I, O, Angel fie, I’ve no such thoughts, not I, miss! ’Tis you alone, if smile or frown, ’Tis you that cause this sigh, miss! Sweet maid forgive? For as I live To win thy heart I’ll try, miss! Without thee, love! Alone I’ll rove, Untill the day I die, miss! ’Twas nought but love, as one above Knows all my thoughts and thine, love ; And now I swear I am sincere — Let all the fault be mine, love; But if I’ve grieved thee, I’ve notdetceivedthee, I impatient waits to join, love My heart with thine if not I’ll pine And quench the flame in wine, love. V • • •r-'I '.!•:• •:.) ;■ V’- .■'.'v. f-vj ■ t . - ■ > '• ' ; ' ; * - . . ■ ■' ’ - ■ - •: V • ' 7 Ciptm dFair in OiCCersaEF.— SES. I saw her cheek, so lovely meek, Turn pale at this confession; And with a sigh, she did comply, But surely with discretion: Her trembling hands, shook in their bands, — 1 had made the long'd impression! It was the tear, soft love and fear, Nut words, gave the expression. But now with speed, on Ass and steed, In rapid haste was pouring On left and right, some blust’ring wight. Was bawling out and roaring; I stood amazed, as on them gazed, To see all men so soaring; — Heard Bugles sound, and Drums resound, And voices loud encoring. By this my love, had time to prove, Wither she did admire me; Love conquer’d shame, and boldness came, And strictly did desire me To take her arm without alarm For so it did require me; — Nor she refused! though seem’d confused, Yet pleased at being nigher me. She silence broke, and thus she spoke, Are you a stranger hear sir? Are you aware, ’tis T'iptree Fair! And we are very near, sir? Fighting, racing, jumping, pacing And oft a dancing Bear, sir, If you’ll protect, I’ll ne’er suspect No harm, nor nothing fear, sir. A stranger, true ! I am to you, Nor ne’er was here before, love; And with thee I’d stay, to spend one day, For thee I do adore, love; On Tiptree green, — else where I ween, If where the cannons roar, love; If faithful prove to me my love, I ne’er will leave thee more, love. V, . . . : A ...a r ’ i, I t Lvr;w;. ^... ■ . . . .. • — ' - i, « ov -- . : ' . . *£ ; “• . 0t.| j : * ...... • r * ‘ • •_ . . ... . •; « 0i - . • •■ ■■ • 5 • v ■ ' ... • . lAi^ ; . v . .. . ; ■ ■ ■ t ■ 1 .. . . • v - - . t - < . - . «Vfl.Vsao'; A. r o . .. . ‘ ■' : V ; ' l' ' ' . • • i-'-'A ■ • > QlV i a : . | ? ' VC crptrw dfair in mm<&®<£XlLW— ftp. Red white and blue now ’pear’d in view, Young jockeys’ ribbons flying They start! they start! like any dart, The Gents’ were loudly crying: They go, they go, now in a row ! To do their best are trying Now Green Cap leads upon his steed, And all the rest defying. Now round the course in rapid force, Through bushy whin and briar, Now for the pinch! Give rein one inch, For now comes in High-flyer! With crimson cap and jacket slap Young Creeper means to try her; — Left all behind! Deprived of wind — Some tumbling in the mire. Now London Prigs some person twigs, And tries their skill to lighten Them of their tin , crying out he win By Jove ah! he’s a bright on’, Or from some fob, a watch they’ll job! Then feign a row, at fightin’; And in the bustle the watch they hustle , — Such sport do they delight in. ’Tis soon found out, the thieves are about! By a roaring out, Policeman! My watch I’ve lost Five Pounds it cost It was well worth the price, man ; And to obtain my watch again, I beg for your advice, man, ’Tis my belief I know the thief, I twig’d him at it twice, man. Make no delay, he’s gone that way, Dress’d like a London Prig, man, Bright auburn hair complection fair Of fashion he’s a sprig, man, By G — d I’d shoot th’ infernal brute If I the blade could spy, man, But in the dance if I’ve a chance, I’ll pull his curly wig, man. { ii>, j . : : . Ciptm JFair in {$UB@ibrr I nA * ! . .. . Ciptm dFair in US. And many were there, that night I fear, Who had in their possession, Which they again can ne’er obtain, Nor lost, if used discretion: But who e’er they be, they were kind and free, Yet knew ’twas a transgression: And it did impart, in each tender heart A deep, and fond impression. Here each coxcomb aicay from home May sport his half a crown, sir. With his charming belle, may cut a swell; With his watch guard hanging down, sir. And on my word, there’s not a Lord! In City or in Town, sir, (Search far and wide) shows half the pride As a home spun country clown, sir. And here some lad, fresh from his dad And mummy, comes to courting; And soon’s he sees a wench that please, He’s quickly her escorting; Without alarm upon his arm, His Polly he’s supporting Till spent his all! Then what a snarl, Through Polly he is brought in. And shopmen too, more than a few, Like sailors fresh from sea, sir; Like rabid sharks, they play’d their larks, Here at their annual spree, sir; And they drain’d the glass, till drunk as an Ass, — Nor could they hear nor see, sir, And they yell’d and cried ! like De — Is untied. Or cag’d Baboons let free, sir. More than I saw ’tis ’gainst the Law, To write, and spoil my paper; Unless that I could pen a lie, And buy my paper cheaper: But now no more is heard the roar Of drummers, nor the scraper; No more is seen on stage or green, The merry Andrew’s caper. Ctptrn JFaiv in mmedMXMl?.— FHE. For now the night has took its flight, And another day is dawning; How dull each scene is on the green, How solomn seems the morning, Some! yesterday, were blythe and gay, All melancholy scorning; Alas! such may have gone astray And now lamenting, mourning. Now as I stood in silent mood, Musing on departed night And gazing on the rising Sun Which shone in splendor bright, Old Tolharn h rush’d on the course (A loggerheaded wight,) I’m champion here cried Bob I’ll swear And toss’d his hat to fight. Unconquer’d Bob soon found a job, — Young T n bold and stout Soon crock’d his eyes! and by surprize He learnt Him “right about,” With dubs and fibs he crack’d his ribs, Then thump’d his broken snout Then from his waist his belt unlaced, And put Old Bob to rout. I will give in, nor think to win, Cried Bob thou art my master! So sure’s thy guard, and hit so hard, Like thunder-bolts and faster; — I’ve had more holes from knocks and rolls, Than any pepper Caster; And on my face at every place I’ve use’d some yards of plaister. And then he swore I’ll fight no more ’Till Harvest time is over But then I’ll try — for staunch am I! — If I should ne’er recover, Strip’d “in my skin” I’ll then go in, Like a Horse that’s fresh from clover; Then wept and said I’m not afraid! For of fighting I’m a Lover. > ’ * ' r t - - «- - . ^ - 17 i - ■ •• - ' - - ■ •«: T IX: . . . .. - „ . . f . ' . .. Ciptree dFair in FfiSS. Although my boy, I can’t deny, But thou hast lick’d me now lad; Next time we meet, I war’nt I’ll beat, Grand science I will show lad; But ’ere we part, with all my heart, We’ll friendly end the row lad: We will leave the ring go and drink and sing And to the goblet bow lad. So off they went like hounds on scent More friendly than before, sir; And took their glass beside some lass Who paid for them their score, sir, Then I left the spot, and each drunken sot, Asham’d to hear their lore, sir, And here I’ll end what I have penn’d, For I cannot write no more, sir. Hoteg. Page 4, stanza 1. — Green Cap, a boy who rode a horse belonging to a Mr. Holding, a horse dealer. P. 4 s. 2. Creeper, Mr. Quihampton’s horse, rode by George' Ed wards, groom at Mr. John Payne’s, Maldon, but he lost his situation through coming to the fair. p < 5 3. There were several w s from Colchester, dressed’ very grand, and appeared very beautiful at a dis- tance, but quite the reverse as they approached. p 5 , 5_ i n one of the London booths (so called) there were men , women, and girls, of all denominations, attempt- ing to perform a country dance, but their efforts were in vain until one of the bandsmen put them in the way. p 6 8 3 I saw a young man, I might say a mere boy, from the neighbourhood of Totham, who I knew perfectly well (which Attracted my attention very much) conducting « little bit of a girl up and down the fair, treating her to everything she desired, and, I believe, he had the misfor- tune to return home moneyless. TIPTREE HEATH, JULY, 1844. ®{ptre* : printrti at dearies Clark’s ^ribate lP«ss. THE TRIP TO TIPTREE; OR, A LOVER’S TRIUMPH. Humbly presented to the Philologist , as a specimen of the dialect of the peasantry of Essex. Youn' Simon ov Tiptree, a noice steady lad was he. The jouy ov his moather — the proide ov his dad was he ; An*, as a ploughmun, folks say, yow scace ever ded Clap oyes upim one wot his wark hafe so clever ded. To u come oup” to him, all his mates, they bestirrers wor. For straight — proper straight uns — they spied all his thurrars wor ; But, our Simon, nut onny at ploughin' excel ded he, If he sew, rep, or mew, stell the same, oh ! so well ded he ! Stron’ an’ clunchy was Simon, an’ noice carlly hair he had. With health’s tint on his chakes, through the dale ov fresh air he had : With a charriter gud, ne’er lack “ dubs” in his puss ded he, — Ollis “ bobbish” an’ gay, long pass his loife thus ded he. Howsomever, this genus — this lad ov ability — Soon foun’ a sad stup put to all his tranquillity ; For into his heart soon much fudder love s arrars went, Thun into the mouls e’er the teeth ov his hurrars went ! All the cause ov his troubles, ’twas werry soon sin, they say, — He had so fell in love with one fair Dorcas Winn, they say; Such a noice gal was Dorcas, the chaps all look’d sloy at her. An,’ poor Simon, he too, had oft caist a ship s oye at her. Quoite the proide ov oad Tiptree this naarbour’s gud darter was, Whoile for some toime our Simon’s wesh her to " goo arter” was; An’ that what cud nut be at some other places done, W as an * nut so wusser — soon at Tiptree Races done ! Nation plased now was Simon— his sithin’ was banish’d quoite ; To his gal he’d " struck oup,” an,’ his fares, they had wanish’d quoite: His Dorcas’s conduct, oh ! now it was such he ded E’en begin to hev thotes ov the axin’ at chutch, he ded ! Our Simon an’ Dorcas, stell yit on the Heath wor they— Now sot down in some “ Tavin,” ’neath the floral wreath wor they : Where there was such guzzlin,* and such ham-an’-wealin’ it, — Whoile many loike blazes kept on toe-an ’-heelin’ it. 2 THE TRIP TO TIPTREE. At Tiptree, the pair, oup an* down long parade ded they, An* oyed all the “ soights” — all the wonders display’d ded they ; ’Ginst the shows, with mouth opun, our Simon, long stan’ ded he. Tell, ov coas, into etch, with much grace, his lass han’ ded he ! Who’s on Tiptree’s coas arly, sure, but a doull clown is he. There no racers come oup tell the sun nare gone down is he ! Oh ! there spud, sure, ov “ bloods” be an arlier ridin’ there : Strange ! to foind there’s no heat tell the sun is subsidin’ there ! Howsomever, our pair, ov the hosses — at length — they had Cotch a wiew some vay oaf — when to so troy their strength they had ; Jes to roights run’d the fust — for, though git such a check did he. At las’ — as some beauties hev — win by a neck ded he ! Though so spirity etch, all the tothers, ’twas plain, they had But bin “ leather’d” for nought — but strain’d etch narve in wain they had An’ when their cute backers twig’d that behine range ded they — (An’ foun’ hootch had bet) — think it “ passin strange” ded they! Whoile at Tiptree, poor Dorcas, once or twoice rayther frown’d had she. For, somehows, so dartied her best yallar gownd had she ; An’, our Simon, some chaps thereto bouy ded beset him so. He at last ded agree, when he foun’ — they had chet him so ! To be oaf frum their " Tavin” quoite toime it now gittin’ was, — ’Sides, there was such a tarnation smudge where etch sittin’ was : So when ’mong the stalws they had had a shote roam agin, Frum the Heath they wor trapsin’ to Dorcas’s home agin. When snoug frum the boustle, fond Simon, full oft ded he, " To her head,” tell his love such a kit ov things “ soft” ded he ; An’ his Dorcas, she trusted — (but wot lover do less ded he?) — That he’d soon come agin — for wot , Simon, guess ded he ! A few moanths arter this, our pair, made but one wor they, ** Tied oup,” one foine moarn, by some grave Levi’s son wor they ; An* yow’d guess, by the smoile wot now plays on both faces stell. That they’ve cause to remember with jouy Tiptree Races stell ! CHARLES CLARK, Author of “ John Noakes,” a poem in the Essex Dialect. Great Totham Hall, near Tiptree, Essex, February, 1842. Co Collector# mtt ©tfver#* Jttovr UrocHuvrs from tfic Cotliam pnbatc Press. Pleasant tQuippcs for CXpstart Nctofanglcb ©cntlriuomcn, bg Stephen ffiosson, “jargon of ©teat ®5Bigboroto, in lEssei.” Co toljieh is abbeb, pickings anb pleasantries from “ Cije Crumpet of MUarre,” a Sermon preaefjeb at Paules Crosse, bg dosson 8 bo. 13 leabes, l*. 6 rf. = 5 = 5 = 1847 ©osson’s poem is of t^e greatest raritp. 3Et is a satirical attack on tf)e manners antr Oress of tf)c latter part of tf>esix= trend) centurp. ©nip ttoo copies are knoton to exist. Narratibe of the ftlirarulous Cure of anne ftlunnings, of Colchester, bg .-(Faith, Prager, anb anointingbuth ©il, onNeto=geat’s Hag, 1705; Craftg Itate, of Colchester, a rare anb tohimsicalolbPallab; an eitraorbinarg Hobe=iLetter, abbresseb to a Habg of JPalbon, in 1644; anb the JPalbon jUflartgr, 1555 ,— 8bo. 12 leabes, i#.6rf. sss = sss = 1847 ^Fairlop anb its ^Founbcr; or, .dFacts anb jFun for tf)e jForest ^FroUcfecrs, bg a jFameb dFirst dFribag dFairgoer. Contains JHemoirs, Hnec= botes, Poems, Songs, &c. toitlj the eurious ffiffliill of JPt. Hag, neber before printeb,— 8bo. 1 *. = = 1847 poor Robin's Perambulation from Saffron^ ffiffilalbrn to bonbon : Performeb this month ofjulg, 1678 . — Nearly ready. ■an erceettinalp tare, curious, anb interesting poem, sup= jposcb to be toritten bu SStinstanleg. Jlot in tlje Jttuscunt. fPirtlj anb fHetre; or, l&ligmes, “Paps,” anb titjapsobies, bg Charles Clark, of Cotham,— Preparing. ®otl>am: Printeb at Gijatics ©lari’s Pribate Press. s v -Nr V \\ k * 1 ^ • * ^ • • .’ <* .. « ^ y % V* * -r*y •'» \ * :* % *<**’ i **> :. N . V • . - \ :.'• <+■** V* N,w^" ■ 4 v. N $ *► Sc* v --, , ■•■* ..- * --V. . v V • v ■•■■ :'■ a "^r V"^ *• $ W ; V v , *^^-AV, 0 v , v ‘ ; ’■*-**> -t : -hv.»T. / . . ' ‘■•-Jr A -X -V. V \ * v- A* • * \ » V *\ V * ..- X /V •:^ \ ... • ' c ‘4 *. 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