F A I R L O P 
 
 AND ITS FOUNDER; 
 
 ' OR, 
 
 I 
 
 { FACTS AND FUN 
 
 I FOR THE 
 
 iFotrest iFroltcftFtrs. 
 
 < BY A FAMED FIRST FRIDAY FAIRGOER. 
 
 1 
 
 I A DAY of fun and jollity . — Tom Thumb. 
 
 Contains Memoirs, Anecdotes, Poems, Songs 
 &c. with the curious Will of Mr. Day, 
 j never befbre printed. 
 

i 
 
FAIRLOP AND ITS FOUNDER; 
 
 OR, 
 
 FACTS AND FUN 
 
 FOR 
 
 THE FOREST FROLICKERS. 
 
 BY A FAMED FIRST FRIDAY FAIRGOER. 
 
 A DjiY of fun and jollity . — Tom Thumb. 
 
 GontEins Memoirs, Anecdotes, Poems, Songs, 
 &c. with the enrions Will of Mr. Day, 
 never before printed. 
 
 A VERY LIMITED NUMBER PRINTED. 
 
 TOTHAM: 
 
 PRINTED AT 
 
 CHARLES CLARK’S PRIVATE PRESS. 
 
 FAIRLOP ’S FRIDAY, 
 
 1 - 847 . 
 
5 
 
 Is there any good water for the horses here V* 
 
 sir, not any, nearer than the village there/* 
 
 ^^Then let the men cut some of that green corn; 
 
 That will do instead of water till to-morrow morn. 
 Before the king of day cover'd himself over, 
 
 I saw through that hedge some corn and clover; 
 
 Let some men per troop go with their swords. 
 
 And cut some down without any more words. 
 
 Here is a farm-house, too, close by this place. 
 
 Perhaps some milk may be gotten for our race ; 
 
 Let a dozen men go with their canteens, 
 
 Those exceeding fine men now in their teens. 
 
 Is the moon asleep, or is it under ground ? 
 
 It is now so very dark one cannot look around. 
 
 The moon is not asleep, but cover’d over in bod. 
 
 With black cloudy curtains close round its sickly head ; 
 Those curtains God has drawn to show his power, 
 
 To let us sinners know that he can us devour. 
 
 One curtain is so black too, in the element so high, 
 
 To hide the light from us, to make our hearts sigh. 
 
 To make us all wet too, the black border he now wrings, 
 It begins to drop a good pace, to wet all our things. 
 
 Go, send the officers commanding troops to me, 
 
 They must come quickly, them I want to see. 
 
 To receive my orders, and to execute them to-night, 
 
 That all may be ready to-morrow morning to fight. 
 Gentlemen, have you gotten some good green corn and 
 clover?” 
 
 ^^Yes, but the farmers all of them came over.” 
 
 ‘^My orders were positive to cut it instantly down.” 
 
 ‘at is all cut off, sir, from where it was sown.” 
 
 “An order to the Commissary I will quickly give. 
 
 To pay the value of it, that every farmer may live. 
 
 Each man must lie down in the front of his horse, 
 
 And mount in an instant, should there be any cause. 
 
 The men may light fires too, if wood can be gotten, 
 
 There is a little close by, and it is very rotten. 
 
 Gentlemen, depart, and attend to your troops, — 
 
 O ! the men must eat their victuals without any roots.” 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 Twelve o’clock in the night, all perfectly quiet, 
 Sentinels close together, talking about fowl diet. 
 
 The French sentinel began to prate to the English loud,-— 
 He said, “I have good gin to help to carry my load. 
 
The History and Origin of Fairlop Fair, 
 with Memoirs of Mr. Daniel Day, the 
 Founder, &c. 
 
 THIS curious and interesting account, written by 
 a gentleman ot Hssex, intimate with one ot tlie de- 
 scendants of Mr. Daniel Day, will afford us an in- 
 stance of its being in the power of almost every man, 
 to add to the felicity of his neighbours and fellow 
 creatures. 'I'lie subject before us, though in the mid- 
 dling rank of life, for a series of years had the grati- 
 fication to see the hearts of hundreds annually re- 
 joiced and made glad, by his means, arounil the old 
 Oak, and tbousamls to this time assemble there, on 
 the day he set apart for innocent pastime and r<y 
 tional recreation, so that the benevolent views of his 
 heart were not buried with him in his grave: and, 
 we most sincerely hope, while the spot whereon stood 
 the far-famed Fairlop Oak is to be pointed out, the 
 sons and daughters of freedom and hilarity will meet 
 beneath the delightful shades ot the Forest of Hain- 
 ault, in commemoration of the Founder of the Feast 
 and Fair, Daniel Day. 
 
 s 
 
 Daniel Day was born in the parish of St. Mary 
 Overy, (in which parish his father was an opulent 
 brewer) in the year 1683, and for a great number of 
 years, until his death, was a very considerable engine, 
 pump, and blockmaker, in the parish of St. John’s, 
 Wapping, where, to this day, his memory is respected 
 as a great benefactor to that parish, particularly in 
 the gift of the great bell at the consecration of the 
 new” church in 1760, and as an upright and ingenious 
 tradesman, a great mechanic, as the many inventions 
 he has left behind him in the construction of various 
 descriptions of engines and pumps, and of the im- 
 provement he made in the jiggers used by brewers 
 in the starting of beer, which is worked by *them to 
 this day, sufficiently proves. He was of a most chari- 
 
Off I then went to Lieut. Colonel Q* 
 
 "Here is a letter, sir, directed to you" 
 
 "What do you say? I am deaf by cold." 
 
 ^^Here is a letter, sir, not very old.” 
 
 " Open the shutters, let in the light, 
 
 Then I can see who did it write.” 
 
 open, he begins to read. 
 
 ^This is a route to march with speed ; 
 
 Call the trumpets to sound to horse. 
 
 Let every man be ready without remorse.” 
 
 8ir, the trumpets are there outside the barn, 
 
 1 called them up, and thought no harm. 
 
 Let that prisoner out of the guard room; 
 
 Every man be ready, and that quite soon ; 
 
 Ofhcers of troops you must send to me. 
 
 And come quickly yourself, then I shall see 
 ^nat can be done with hay and corn. 
 
 Which must be carried with us this morn ; 
 
 Let the trumpets sound, to rouse the men. 
 
 They are all in a bustle after the din. 
 
 The officers are here, sir, to hear your demands. 
 And to execute all your commands.” 
 
 U Captain arriv’d from the ball at Brussels ?" 
 
 Ves, sir, here he comes in his ball dress full of tassels."" 
 
 Captain , your horse is exceedingly warm." 
 
 Yes, sir, I came from Brussels in an hour this morn.” 
 "Gentlemen, the regiment must turn out. 
 
 And march by the directions in this route ; 
 
 To Quatre-a-Bras we are to go soon, ^ 
 
 We must arrive there this afternoon. 
 
 What distance is that ? can no one tell ? 
 
 Ask the old blacksmith, he knows well.” 
 
 Away I ran into his meanly old hoard, 
 
 ^^He says, it is thirty miles from Voorde.” 
 "Gentlemen, two days" hay, and two days" corn. 
 Must be carried with the men this morn : ^ 
 
 The beef and biscuit, and pork too, 
 
 The Commissary will direct towards Waterloo. 
 Three days’ provision must be taken with the men. 
 Then with full bellies they will the French ken. 
 Gentlemen, depart! trumpets sound, ‘Turn out!" 
 We will then march on according to route." 
 
table and humane temper, and exemplarily generous 
 and liberal in his principles and actions; to evince 
 this we need only mention his portioning off his twin 
 nieces in his life-time with £1000 each, one of whom 
 I es buried near him. He would not only lend a dis- 
 O essed friend considerable sums, but he invariably 
 refused the smallest interest, and very frequently for- 
 gave the principal; in short, his character for probity 
 was such, that his neighbours were ever satisfied 
 with his arbitrations in their disputes, to which his 
 abilities were amply adequate; his memory was 
 astonishingly retentive, in so great a degree, as to 
 enable him to repeat, almost verbatim, a long dis- 
 course or Sermon. He was not the enemy of any 
 man, or particular description of men, but the mus- 
 cles of his face were violently agitated whenever he 
 heard of litigation in law, and he always professed to 
 be uneasy in the company of the practitioners of it. 
 
 Notwithstanding the very large sums he distribu- 
 ted in charities and lent, he lived in comfort and died 
 rich, leaving to the eiglit fatherless children ot his 
 niece, whom we have already alluded to, the bulk 
 of his property to be equally divided. 
 
 It is with some degree of pain we mention that 
 Mr. Day was never married, because with a heart 
 replete with the milk of human kindness, and pos- 
 sessing an understanding at the same time solid and 
 elevated, he wanted only the additional great cha- 
 racters of a husband and father to have made him 
 more completely the great and good man. 
 
 Mr. Day had many eccentricities, but they were 
 unoffending in their nature, and no man was ever 
 splashed or injured by his hobby-horse. We should 
 be doing injustice to his memory if we did not men-' 
 tion a peculiar and very high trait in his character^ 
 and that was, his kindness to his servants; in a few 
 words, he was their friend. He had a widowed 
 house-keeper who lived with him for thirty years^ 
 and died in his life-time at a very advanced age. She 
 
Off I then went to Lieut. Colonel Q. 
 
 'j ® sir, directed to you." 
 
 What do you say f I am deaf by cold." 
 
 Here is a letter, sir, not very old.” 
 pi>en the shutters, let in the light. 
 
 Then I can see who did it write.” 
 
 Ji-lf he begins to read. 
 
 Call ilfr* «'‘th speed ; 
 
 Call the trumpets to sound to horse. 
 
 'Without remorse.” 
 
 I ii’ jhe trumpets are there outside the harn 
 
 Ic.lUd ,h.„ .p, a 
 
 cet that prisoner out of the guard room- 
 
 Officers of troops you must send to me. 
 
 ‘hen I shall see 
 
 what can be done with hay and corn, 
 
 Which must be carried with us this morn ; 
 
 Thev are*^'*!?^*** Sound, to rouse the men, 
 
 Ihe officers are here, sir, to hear your demands 
 
 « T, r ^ y"***- commands ” 
 
 « Vp« L “7" ‘he ball at Brussels «" 
 
 ‘‘Captah '"T of tassds 
 
 «v!r • 1 ’ y .1”’ horse is exceedingly warm " 
 
 ‘‘Siemr® fir™ “o hour this morn. 
 
 Oentleraen, the regriment must turn out 
 
 And march by the directions in this route • 
 
 To Quatre-a-Bras we are to go soon. 
 
 We must arrive there this afternoon. 
 
 What distance is that ? can no one tell ? 
 
 Ask the old blacksmith, he knows well.” 
 
 Away I ran into his meanly old hoard 
 
 He says, it is thirty miles from Voorde ” 
 
 days' corn. 
 
 Mast be carried with the men this morn ; 
 
 The beef and biscuit, and pork too. 
 
 The Commissary will direct towards Waterloo. 
 rhree days' provision mast be taken with the men 
 Then with full bellies they will the French ken. ' 
 ^ntlemen, depart! trumpets sound, ‘ Turn out!' 
 We will then march on according to route.” 
 
 
Iiarl two very strong attachments, one to her wed-* 
 ding-ring and garments, and tlie other to tea; when 
 she died, Mr. Day would not permit her ring to be 
 taken off* — he said, “If that was attempted, she would 
 come to life again,” and directed that she should be 
 buried in her wedding suit, and a pound of tea iit 
 each hand ; and these directions were literally obeyed. 
 
 This whim was highly illustrative of his good na- 
 ture, for although he had an aversion to tea, and 
 never drank it, he did not debar his servants the use 
 of it; and in the instance of his old house-keeper, car- 
 ried his liberality even into her grave, by providing 
 her a commodity there, whicli she was so fond of 
 here. And although a bachelor, no man honoured 
 more the marriage state, as will be seen hereafter. 
 
 Mr. Day enjoyed as much as any man his friend 
 and pitcher, but he was temperate and regular in 
 his mode of living, and very fond of the exercise of 
 walking; by this means he enjoyed an uncommon 
 share of health, until his death. 
 
 We are now drawing towards that last scene which 
 sooner or later must happen to the mighty and the 
 weak, the rich and the poor, the good and the bad. 
 
 A few years before Mr. Day’s death, a branch of 
 the Old Oak received a shock, either by decay, by 
 lightning, or storni; this operated upon Mr. Day as 
 the warning of an old friend — it pointed out to him 
 the instability of life, and the effects of time; and lie 
 received the call with the resignation of a Christian, 
 and the fortitude of a man, who was conscious of 
 having performed his allotted part with propriety. 
 
 He set about with alacrity, a task which to some 
 men would have been an awful preparation for the 
 journey ; his first business was to provide the reposi- 
 tory; by the fivour of the lord of the manor, he pro- 
 cured the dismembered limb of his favourite tree: 
 this being done, he employed a Mr. Clear, a carpen- 
 ter, to measure him for a coffin, and to make it out 
 
I 
 
 ' 6 
 
 I will give some to you, your English soul to charm, 
 
 And will be answerable, to you it shall do no harm/^ 
 '^top I” says stubborn John Bull, “ I hear our foot patrole. 
 When it is gone back we may drink in that hole.” 
 
 the English sentinel so bold. 
 ^^The English patrole, that is not very old ” 
 
 the Countersign to me.” 
 Counteiytgn is Loxdon, — I now give it to thee. 
 Are all quiet in front? do they remain very still?” 
 
 1 just heard their patrole, but it did me no ill.” 
 
 heard any dogs making a great noise?” 
 
 ^ No, they are all very quiet,— that is the most wise.” 
 
 lo the right about face, quick march, are the words. 
 We shall soon be at ease without drawing our swords, 
 rench sentinel, draw the charge in your gun, 
 
 down, we may now have some good fun.” 
 
 No, said the Frenchman, I cannot draw my ball, 
 Eeave our guns at our posts, or placed against the wall.” 
 
 1 his was soon agreed on, they then went into the hole. 
 
 To drink some good gin, each to cherish his soul : 
 
 Ihey there sat down together, each smoking his pine. 
 
 And neither of them attempted each other to pique! 
 
 They then drank a pint of the very best gin. 
 
 That made them jabber glibly they both wish’d to win. 
 
 Now we must return, each to his own station, 
 
 I pray for Old England, God bless that dear nation.” 
 
 Then says the Frenchman, I shall pray for France, 
 
 And to-morrow we will give you a good skipping dance.” 
 
 One o’clock in the morning, the fires look bright 
 Some men are snoring, others are ready to fight; 
 
 All still and quiet amongst the soldiers of horse,’ 
 
 The infantry are retiring slowly, without any loss. 
 
 The fires in the French camp are made much bigger 
 It is not because the weather has more rigour. * 
 
 It is because they hear our cannon rattling over the stones 
 But if they advance one inch we will break their bones ’ 
 Those guns are retiring with the infantry division, 
 
 All well loaded with balls and oceans of ammunition 
 How quickly they knew the artillery had begun to rove 
 They then expected that we should all sharply move ’ 
 ^Dragoons! each man stand to his horse, ready to mount! 
 They shall find our English steel is not so very blunt.” 
 
 the Generals Aide-de-camp came walking 
 I have orders for you to advance silently, without talking! 
 
'i 
 
 4 
 
 bf this oak. Mr. Clear executed his job, andbroiigtifc 
 home his work, which was neatly pannelled, and 
 highly rubbed and varnished with bees-wax. Mr. 
 Day view’cd liis future habitation with the utmost 
 serenity and philosophy, and addressing hiinselt to 
 the carpenter, said, “Mr. Clear, I have heard that 
 when a person dies he is much stretched, and conse- 
 quently much longer than when living,” andj pun*^ 
 ning upon the man’s name, went on, “now, Mr. 
 Clear, it is not very clear to me that you have made 
 this coffin long enough, but, however, we’ll try;” 
 and laying himself down in the coffin, he found it 
 too short. “Never mind it,” says the Stoic, “you 
 must desire my executors to cut off my head and put^ 
 it between my legs.” 
 
 His next care was the disposition of his estate, and 
 in this instance, as well as in every action of his life, 
 he demonstrated himself to be a just and honest man. 
 
 After bequeathing several legacies, and providing 
 for the children of his niece, as we have before ob- 
 served, he carried his harmless oddities to the last 
 action possible, and in that his mind shone with its 
 wonted benignity. He directed his executors to con- 
 vey his remains, by water, to Barking, accompanied 
 by six journeymen pump and block-makers, as 
 bearers; to each of whom he gave a new white lea- 
 ther apron and a guinea. 
 
 There is a proof of his munificence that ought not 
 to be omitted; it was his custom, upon the birth of 
 all his niece’s children, to present the mother with 
 a gold coral, a pap-boat, and a purse of 50 guineas. 
 I appeal to those of my fair coiultry-women who are 
 mothers, whether such a gallant present would not 
 be very pleasing to them upon such occasions; and 
 1 cannot dismiss this account without observing, that 
 the poor were daily fed at his door, and never craved 
 other relief from him in vain. 
 
 Mr. Day was not one of those persons who left the 
 grand account to be balanced at the hour of dissolu- 
 
I will give some to you, your English soul to charm, 
 
 And will be answerable, to you it shall do no harm/' 
 ^*Stop P' says stubborn John Bull, “ I hear our foot patrole, 
 When it is gone back we may drink in that hole.” 
 
 Who comes there ?” says the English sentinel so bold. 
 '^The English patrole, that is not very old ” 
 
 Advance, patrole, and give the Countersign to me.” 
 ^*The Countersign is London, — I now give it to thee. 
 Are^ all quiet in front? do they remain very still ?” 
 
 '"I just heard their patrole, but it did me no ill.” 
 
 ^^Have you heard any dogs making a great noise?” 
 
 < ^**6 9^11 very quiet, — that is the most wise.” 
 
 J^o the right about face, quick march, are the words, 
 We shall soon be at ease without drawing our swords. 
 French sentinel, draw' the charge in your gun. 
 
 Then sit down, we may now have some good fun.” 
 
 *^No, said the Frenchman, ‘‘ I cannot draw my ball, 
 Leye our guns at our posts, or placed against the wall ” 
 This was soon agreed on, they then went into the hole. 
 
 To drink some good gin, each to cherish his soul ; 
 
 They there sat down together, each smoking his pipe. 
 
 And neither of them attempted each other to pique. ^ 
 They then drank a pint of the very best gin. 
 
 That made them jabber glibly they both wish’d to win. 
 "‘Now we must return, each to his own station, 
 
 I pray for Old England, God bless that dear nation.” 
 
 Then says the Frenchman, shall pray for France, 
 
 And to-morrow we will give you a good skipping dance.” 
 
 One o’clock in the morning, the fires look bright. 
 
 Some men are snoring, others are ready to fight ; 
 
 All still and quiet amongst the soldiers of horse, 
 
 The infantry are retiring slowly, without any loss. 
 
 The fires in the French camp are made much bigger. 
 
 It is not because the weather has more rigour. 
 
 It is because they hear our cannon rattling over the stones 
 But if they advance one inch we will break their bones. ^ 
 Those guns are retiring with the infantry division. 
 
 All well loaded with balls and oceans of ammunition. 
 
 How quickly they knew' the artillery had begun to rove 
 They then expected that we should all sharply move. ^ 
 “Dragoons! each man stand to his horse, ready to mount! 
 They shall find our English steel is not so very blunt.” 
 
 At two o’clock the General’s Aide-de-camp came walking 
 “I have orders for you to advance silently, without talking! 
 
tion, or who have to trust only to a sick-bed repen- 
 tirtice for tlie errors of their whole lives: lie was a 
 protestant, and a constant attendant upon divine wor- 
 ship at his parish church, and though he had no child 
 of his own, he would always enforce the attendance 
 of his nephews and nieces, their children, and of his 
 servants, 
 
 Mr. Day was not without his aversions, which 
 were generally well founded and immoveable, but he 
 had few resentments. 
 
 In his dress and manners he was simplicity itself, 
 and he was an amateur of music and dancing, the 
 meetings of which he frequently attended; upon one 
 of these occasions he was invited to a superior circle, 
 where he was told it would be necessary to wear 
 ruffles, and a pair of the finest point lace was pre- 
 sented to him; he viewed them with some degree of 
 contempt, and said, “If it was the custom he must 
 comply, but it should be in his own way,” and di- 
 rected his house-keeper to get the lace dyed green, 
 in which colour he wore them at that assembly, and 
 upon all similar occasions. 
 
 Mr. Day retained his health until within a day or 
 two of his death, and his faculties to the last. As he 
 had lived, .so he died — a devout Christian, a sincere 
 friend, a good master, and an honest man; he was 
 just without austerity, liberal without profusene'-s, 
 free without intemperance, and lively without excess; 
 in fine, he lived merry and wise, and died univer- 
 sally revered and lamented on the 19th of October, 
 1767, in the 84th year of his age, and was buried 
 agreeable to his Will, in his oak coffin, in the church- 
 yard at Barking, in Essex, where the following epi- 
 taph may be seen: — 
 
 Here lieth interr’d the Body of Mr. D.^vier. Day, Block and 
 Pump Maker, late of the Parisli of St. .John's IVapping; who 
 departed this Life October the 19th 1767, Aged 84 years. 
 
 Death, from this world, hath set me free 
 From all my pain and misery. 
 
•jt 
 
 6 
 
 I will give some to you, your English soul to charm, 
 will be answerable, to you it shall do no harm " 
 
 Stop !” says stubborn John Bull, “ I hear our foot patrole, 
 
 VVheii It IS gone back we may drink in that hole.” 
 
 English sentinel so bold, 
 ihe English patrole, that is not very old ” 
 
 patrole, and give the Countersign to me.’^ 
 
 Lne Countersign is London, — I now give it to thee. 
 
 Are all quiet in front ? do they remain very still ?” 
 
 just heard their patrole, but it did me no ill.” 
 
 ^^Have you heard any dogs making a great noise?” 
 
 "^No, they are all very quiet,— that is the most wise.” 
 
 Xo the right about face, quick march, are the words, 
 
 We shall soon be at ease without drawing our swords 
 French sentinel, draw the charge in your gun, 
 
 Then sit down, we may now have some good fun.” 
 
 *"No,” said the Frenchman, ‘‘I cannot draw my ball. 
 
 Leave our guns at our posts, or placed against the walU^ 
 
 This was soon agreed on, they then went into the hole. 
 
 To drink some good gin, each to cherish his soul ; 
 
 They there sat down together, each smoking his pipe. 
 
 And neither of them attempted each other to pique. 
 
 They then drank a pint of the very best gin. 
 
 That made them jabber glibly they both wish’d to win. 
 
 ‘‘Now we must return, each to his own station, 
 
 I pray for Old England, God bless that dear nation." 
 
 Then says the Frenchman, “ I shall pray for France, 
 
 And to-morrow we will give you a good skipping dance.” 
 
 One o’clock in the morning, the fires look bright. 
 
 Some men are snoring, others are ready to fight ; 
 
 All still and quiet amongst the soldiers of horse. 
 
 The infantry are retiring slowly, without any loss. 
 
 The fires in the French camp are made much bigger. 
 
 It is not because the weather has more rigour. 
 
 It is because they hear our cannon rattling over the stones, 
 
 But if they advance one inch we will break their bones. 
 
 Those guns are retiring with the infantry division. 
 
 All well loaded with balls and oceans of ammunition. 
 
 ^ How quickly they knew the artillery had begun to rove. 
 
 They then expected that we should all sharply move. 
 
 “Dragoons! each man stand to his horse, ready to mount! 
 
 They shall find our English steel is not so very blunt." 
 
 At two o’clock the General's Aide-de-camp came walkings 
 “ I have orders for you to advance silently, without talking. 
 
 ]• 
 
(5 
 
 Dn the reverse side of tlie stone appears the fol-* 
 lowing: — 
 
 As a rospcctfnl tribute to the memory of the Founder of F^irlop 
 Fair, the Company of Block Makers caused this stone to he 
 repaired A.D. 1829, under the direction of the following 
 members: — Joseph Flowers, William James Grinyer, Thomas 
 Hemingway, Abraham Kimm, William Row, and John Owen, 
 Treasurer. 
 
 Close to his grave is a brick tomb, with an inscrip- 
 tion to the memory of his sister, Mrs. Sarah Killick, 
 who died the 22d of August, 1782, in the 93d year 
 of iier age. A woman remarkable for the beauty of 
 her person, sweetness of disposition, and the share of 
 health she also enjoyed through life. Till her death 
 she could play at cards, and read and work, with- 
 out spectacles. 
 
 Having thus briefly introduced to the reader, an 
 outline of the character of Mr. Daniel Day, who in 
 the latter part of his life was called “Old Daniel Day,” 
 we will proceed to say a fevv words of his favourite 
 Oak. — 'I'his venerable and stupendous tree stood in 
 Hainault Forest^ about 10 miles from London, 3 from 
 Ilford, and 2 from the village ofChigwell, in Essex. 
 The trunk, or main stem, of this giant of the forest 
 measured, about a yard from the ground, 36 feet in 
 circumference! From this issued 11 vast arms, each 
 of the dimensions of a tree of moderate growth. In 
 the meridian of the day, about 60 years ago, it is 
 said that its shadow extended over nearly an acre of 
 ground! This tree was, about the year 1800, fenced 
 round with a close paling, above five feet high, al- 
 most all the extremities of its branches sawed off, 
 and Mr. Forsyth’s composition applied to them, to 
 preserve them from decay; and the injury which the 
 trunk of the tree had sustained from the lighting of 
 fires in the cavities, was repaired, as much as possi- 
 ble, by the same composition. At the same time, on 
 one of the branches, was fixed a board, with this in- 
 scription: “All good Foresters are requested not to 
 hurt this old Tree, a plaster having been lately ap- 
 plied to its wounds.” The rabble, however, regard- 
 
6 
 
 ?;7! y®®. y®ur English soul to charm, 
 
 will be answerable, to you it shall do no harm.” 
 
 •TO-. ”1’'.. stubborn Jolin Bull, “ f hear our foot patrole, 
 ♦twi" '"^y ‘*‘■'"1^ in that hole.” 
 
 ■” '’"y® English sentinel so bold. 
 
 « A j patrole, that is not very old.” 
 
 «irK patrole, and give the Countersign to me.” 
 
 i. be Countersign is Lo.\do\, — I now give it to thee. 
 Are all quiet in front? do they remain very still?” 
 
 ^ 1 just heard their patrole, but it did me no ill.” 
 
 ®'’y tl®gs making a great noise?” 
 
 ^ Wo, they arc all very quiet,— that is the most wise.” 
 
 10 the right about face, quick march, are the words. 
 We shall soon be at ease without drawing our swords. 
 I’rench^ sentinel, draw the charge iu your gun, 
 
 Then^sit down, we may now have some good fun.” 
 
 *‘No,” said the Frenchman, “I cannot draw my ball 
 Leave our guns at our posts, or placed against the wall.” 
 
 1 his was soon agreed on, they then went into the hole. 
 
 To drink some good gin, each to cherish his soul ; 
 
 They there sat down together, each smoking his pipe 
 And neither of them attempted each other to pique. 
 
 They then drank a pint of the very best gin. 
 
 That made them jabber glibly they both wish’d to win. 
 ^Novv wc must return, each to his own station, 
 
 I pray for Old England, God bless that dear nation.” 
 
 Then says the Frenchman, I shall pray for France, 
 
 And to-morrow we will give you a good skipping dance.” 
 
 One o’clock in the morning, the fires look bright. 
 
 Some men are snoring, others are ready to tight ; 
 
 All still and quiet amongst the soldiers of horse. 
 
 The infantry are retiring slowly, without any loss. 
 
 The fires in the French camp are made much bigger. 
 
 It is not because the weather has more rigour. 
 
 It is because they hear our cannon rattling over the stones. 
 But if they advance one inch we will break their bones. 
 Those guns are retiring with the infantry division. 
 
 All well loaded with balls and oceans of ammunition. 
 How quickly they knew the artillery had begun to rove. 
 They then expected that we should all sharply move. 
 
 Dragoons! each man stand to his horse, ready to mount! 
 They shall find our English steel is not so very blunt.” 
 
 At two o’clock the General’s Aide-de-camp came walking, 
 ^^I have orders for you to advance silently, without talking. 
 
1 
 
 less of the respect clue to tlie veteran of the Forest, 
 Koon broke down the paling, liglited (ires within the 
 trunk, as heretofore, and in consequence, before long, 
 several of the limbs were broken quite off. 
 
 On the 25th of June, 1805, tliis famous Oak was 
 tliscovered to be on fire, occasioned by a party of sixty 
 persons, who came Irom London in several carriao'es 
 during the morning, and amused themselves through 
 the day with playing at cricket and otirer sports; 
 they had kindled a fire, vvhich had spread very con* 
 siderably after they left the spot, but it was not dis- 
 covered for two hours. A number of persons came 
 with water to extinguish the flames, which was not 
 effected until the main branch on the south side, with 
 part of the body, was consumed. 
 
 The high winds of February 1820, however, 
 stretched its massy trunk and limbs on that turf which 
 it had for so many ages overshadowed with its ver- 
 dant foliage; and thus it exhibited a melancholy me- 
 mento of the irresistable power of time in bringinu' 
 to an end not only the flower of a season, but ^Iso 
 the towering growth of many ages. 
 
 The remains of the Fairlop Oak were purchased 
 by Mr. Seabrooke,th'} builder of St. Pancras Church, 
 and both the magnificent pulpits of th it church were 
 formed out of it, and they are certainly the most 
 beautiful of their kind to be met with. 
 
 Our friend Mr. Day — for the friend of mankind 
 never dies — had a small estate, whether hereditary, 
 or a purchase, we do not know, near the Fairlop Oak, 
 niid thither he annually resorted, about a fortnight 
 af-.iir Midsummer, to receive his rents; the congeni- 
 olity of his temper would not suffer him to receive 
 the good things of this woild alone, and it was his 
 custom to invite a few of his neighbours to accom- 
 pany him, and there he would treat them with a re- 
 past of beans and bacon, &c. uiifler the canopy of the 
 Oak, the accomodations being piovided from an ad- 
 jacent small public-house, the Maypole. Mr. Day’s 
 
4 
 
 I will give some to you, your English soul to charm. 
 
 And will be answerable, to yon it shall do no harm ” 
 htop ! says stubborn John Bull, “ I hear our foot patrole, 
 
 hole.” 
 
 «-rK •” seot'nel so bold. 
 
 « A j patrole, that is not very old.” 
 
 patrole, and give the Countersign to me.” 
 
 1 ne Co««fer«f^M is London, — 1 now give it to thee. 
 «T* * ^"'ot 'll front? do they remain very still ?” 
 
 ^ 1 just heard their patrole, but it did me no ill.” 
 
 **®*‘^‘* “"y making a great noise?” 
 
 «T^.k T® ''®*’y that is the most wise.” 
 
 Wp ch II ^ace, quick march, are the words, 
 
 Prp,!!|. ®®®® drawing our swords. 
 
 French sentinel, draw the charge in your gun, 
 
 ,Vvr®“.f' ‘ 'L® ™"y f'ave some good fun.” 
 
 Lmvp Frenchman, “I cannot draw my ball. 
 
 This wss"^ *'*"* ®'' against the wall.” 
 
 T^lTnk r" “‘®y '''®" "'®'“ “‘to ‘he hole 
 
 They there sat down together, each smoking his pipe 
 
 ThevTh ‘hem attempted each other to piquef ' 
 
 They then drank a pint of the very best gin, ^ 
 
 « Nnw™*'^'^ ‘^®y ’’®‘h 'dish’d to win. 
 
 Now we must return, each to his own station. 
 
 Then says the Frenchman, “I shall pray for France 
 And to-morrow we will give you a good skipping dance.” 
 
 So^r ®’®'®®’‘ ‘h® warning, the fires look bright. 
 
 Some men are snoring, others are ready to fight; 
 
 All still and quiet amongst the soldiers of horse, 
 
 Se any loss. 
 
 e fires in the hrench camp are made much biirjrer 
 I IS not because the weather has more rigour. ’ 
 
 Rnt*if '’®®'’ ”“*■ a®""®" rattling over the stones 
 
 But If they advance one inch we will break their bones ’ 
 Those guns are retiring with the infantry division. 
 
 How ouickW th " 't’ ?®®a"® of ammunition. 
 
 ThevUho ^ ®7 *^® artillery had begun to rove, 
 
 « fcalonst?'f ®'’®'P»y wove. ’ 
 
 Thev Xn ‘® "®“4 ‘o wount! 
 
 Af / » 1 English steel is not so very blunt 
 
 "i orf.- f ' ^w.-d.-c,mp cLZLg, 
 
 I have orders for you to advance silently, without talking! 
 
8 
 
 friends were so well pleased with the rural novelty, 
 that they one and all pledged themselves to accom- 
 pany nim on the same occasion every year on the ^ 
 first Friday in July, during their lives. 
 
 In the course of a few years, this amicable meet- 
 ing greatly increased, and became known to the 
 neighbouring gentry, farmers, and yeomanry; and a 
 vast number of them annually, on the day of Mr. 
 Day’s jubilee, visited the place. Suttling booths 
 were soon (bund to be necessary (or their accommo- 
 dation, u liich naturally produced various other booths 
 tor sale, arranged around the huge Oak; and about 
 the year 1725, this charming spot began to present 
 every resemblance of a regular fair. It progressively 
 inci easing, puppet-shows, wild beasts, fruits, gin^'er- ‘ 
 bread, ribbons, and toys, of all descriptions, attended 
 with the usual pastimes of a country wake, soon suc- 
 ceeded, and in a very few years it became one of the 
 most respectable, well-regulated, and harmonious^ 
 tans round the metropolis. 'I'his new generation of 
 Mr. Day ’s creation became his principal hobby-hotse, 
 and he found himself highly flattered by the honest 
 attentions of his numerous visitors. 
 
 Suffer . me here to digress for a few moments: me- 
 thinks we see the good old man indulging the grace- 
 ful sensations resulting from a knowledge of his havino’ 
 founded and promoted a meeting of innocent convi- 
 viality, and receiving the smiling congratulations of 
 artless beauty, dancing around him and his venera- 
 ble Tree, with bosoms light and pure as the atmo- 
 sphere above them. Say, ye sons and daughters of 
 dissipation, who indulge in midnight revelry, are your 
 pursuits equal to the simple Joys of a country fair? 
 
 Is there no difference between the confined and 
 ctowded play-house, or opera, where you are all gasp- 
 ing for a little contaminated effluvia, and the healthful 
 and fragrant breezes of sylvan Fairlop? ' 
 
 See the ruddy glow of rosy health, so fascinatingly 
 contrasted with the lily’s rival, and the natural ring- 
 
6 
 
 I will give some to you, your English soul to chann. 
 
 And will be answerable, to you it shall do no harm.” 
 ^top !” says stubborn John Bull, » I hear our foot patrole. 
 When it is gone back we may drink in that hole.” 
 
 “Who comes there ?” says the English sentinel so bold. 
 “The English patrole, that is not very old.” 
 
 “Advance, patrole, and give the Countersign to me.” 
 “The Countersign is London, — 1 now give it to thee. 
 Are^ all quiet in front ? do they remain very still ?” 
 
 “I just heard their patrole, but it did me no ill.” 
 
 “Have you heard any dogs making a great noise *” 
 
 quiet,— that is the most wise.” 
 lo the right about face, quick march, are the words. 
 
 We shall soon be at ease without drawing our swords. 
 French sentinel, draw the charge in your gun, 
 
 down, we may now have some good Lin.” 
 
 No, said the Frenchman, “I cannot draw my ball 
 Leave our guns at our posts, or placed against the wall " 
 Ihis was soon agreed on, they then went into the hole. 
 
 To drink some good gin, each to cherish his seul : 
 
 They there sat down together, each smoking his pipe. 
 
 And neither of them attempted each other to pique. 
 
 They then drank a pint of the very best gin, 
 
 Ihat made them jabber glibly they both wish’d to win. 
 
 Now we must return, each to his own station, 
 
 I pray for Old England, God bless that dear nation.” 
 
 Then says the Frenchman, “ I shall pray for France, 
 
 And to-morrow we will give you a good skipping dance.” 
 
 One o’clock in the morning, the fires look bright, 
 borne men are snoring, others are ready to fight; 
 
 All still and quiet amongst the soldiers of horse 
 The infantry are retiring slowly, without any los’s. 
 
 I he fires in the French camp are made much bigirer. 
 
 It IS not because the weather has more rigour. 
 
 over the stones. 
 
 But if they advance one inch we will break their bones 
 Those guns are retiring with the infantry division. 
 
 All well loaded with balls and oceans of ammunition. 
 
 How quickly they knew the artillery had begun to rove. 
 They then expected that we should all sharply move. 
 
 They shall find our English steel is not so very blunt.” 
 
 “I W ” Generars Aide-de-camp came walking. 
 
 I have orders for you to advance silently, without talking 
 
 
 
9 
 
 !et.s flowing with the playful wind! Behold tlie mo- 
 yet delightful work of nature! Is there no dis- 
 tinction between these simple beauties, and the artful 
 m;inu factored face, on which the faithless rouge and 
 poisonous white lay waste God’s best of works, and 
 leave not a wreck behind? 
 
 But to return: the open and generous heart of Mr. 
 Day expanded with inexpressible delight at beino- 
 the cause of happiness to others, he thought some 
 little return due to the lads and lasses, who%o graci- 
 ously favoured him with their company; he provided 
 sevefal sacks of beans, and a sufiicient cjuantity of 
 bacon, dressed; the bacon vvas mixed in slices with 
 the beans, and distributed from the trunk of the Tree 
 to the multitude in pansful. Tlie happy, frolicksome 
 contest for the envied portion, is more easily con- 
 ceived than described. Unfortunate was he who did 
 not procure a share for his I'air-one. Blessings were 
 the donor’s reward, and the air resounded with huz- 
 zas; the very leaves of the venerable Tree nodded 
 in silent and majestic gratitude: tiiis custom he con- 
 tinued to his death. How long the chosen companions 
 of this festival lived to accompany the founder, is not 
 known. It is not to be doubted biit they individually 
 kept their word. Mr. Day survived them all, about 
 ten in number, several years. 
 
 In the former part of Mr. Day’s life, he usually 
 walked to Fairlop and back again; later in life he 
 was wont to ride on horseback, but having a fall from 
 his horse, he declared he would never cross another; 
 he kept his vow, sold his horse, and purchased a mule : 
 tliis obstinate animal also, unconscious of the worth 
 ho bore, threw his rider in the mire. Mr. Dav dis- 
 car.'led his mule as he had done his horse, and deter- 
 mined never more to trust himself upon the back of 
 a four-legged beast. His next resource was a post- 
 chaise or a coach; in one of these he also met with 
 an accident, anrl ever after refused to enter into either. 
 This last circumstance induced him to direct his re- 
 mains to be conveyed by water to the place of burial. 
 
You must march by threes, close to the public house. 
 And take particular care the French do not you rouse. 
 Indeed, come whatever may, you must not retreat from 
 there. 
 
 While our brave General Vivian reconnoitres elsewhere. 
 
 PART V. 
 
 Three o’clock in the morning the day began to break, 
 And perhaps many a brave heart began to ache 
 I saw something move in a garden of good coleworts, 
 
 R was a strong piquet of the enemy’s fine cohorts. 
 
 How thick they appear’d in a mass condens’d all together, 
 Hike chickens cover’d over by their mother in cold weather. 
 Frenchmen are famous soldiers, and very fond of greens. 
 They like to get into a wood too, there they have screens! 
 Hay-light appear’d, our infantry were nearly all gone. 
 
 But the cavalry remain’d still, then merely to look on. 
 
 A lot of French sharp-shooters had crept through the wood. 
 And come up to the hedge on our left where we stood. 
 
 Retire further back more than yards one hundred, 
 
 I hen they cannot reach you with their small thunder ; 
 hend a small patrole out to the left on that road. 
 
 There IS a little shelter, there they may have some abode ! 
 1 he riflemen will not come out of that thick wood. 
 
 Indeed you might have remain’d still where you stood. 
 Now instantly feed one half of the horses with corn 
 borne work is cut out for all of them this morn. 
 
 When that half has done, let the other half begin, 
 rhat IS the way to make the horses neigh or sing. 
 
 I know they’re very fond of the standing corn. 
 
 But that is not sound food, and it may do them harm.” 
 
 All remained pretty quiet till seven in the morn ; 
 
 The French on our right began to move through com. 
 Towards us they came, but it was at a very slow pace, 
 
 1 hey soon halted again, us they durst not face. 
 
 «.“!t ^ his eye. 
 
 Said, “What are those troops the church passing by» 
 
 General Vivi.4n, send an intelligent officer to the front, 
 
 10 ascertain how many men he can count. 
 
 Hardman I you must go to the front with great speed 
 Ascend the top of the hill just over the mead.” ’ 
 
 1 he spurs into my horse I stuck up to the hilt 
 And up the field gallopp’d as hard as I could tilt. 
 
 I then counted the French by the gallop of my horse. 
 
 That la a difficult thing to do without any loss. 
 
10 
 
 saying- “If he was conveyed in a hearse, lie should 
 be awakened.” He next invent^! a machine to o-o by 
 <he aid of rrtechanical power without horses, which 
 after two years successful trial, broke down in at- 
 tempting too thu d expedition. His dernier resort was 
 a jockey-cart, in which, attended by music, took 
 11^ annual trip up to the July preceding his death. 
 
 Long prev ious to Mr. Day’s exit, Fairlop Fair was 
 known all over Essex, and the adjoining counties- 
 and naturally thp inhaliitants of Wapping, and the 
 eastern parts of London, could not be ignorant of it 
 consequently it was attended by a vast concourse of 
 people. 1 he engine-makers, pump-makers, and block- 
 makers of fl apping, and other places contiguous to 
 tito! river, a few years before Mr. Day’s death, to the 
 amounttof about tliirty or forty, every year went to 
 the Fair m a boat made of one piece of entire fir 
 covered with an awning, mounted on a coach-car- 
 riagj, drawm^ by six horses, with flags, streamers, and 
 pendants Hying, and a band of music, attended by a 
 great many persons on horseback, ih carriages, and 
 on’ 'foot. This custom, on the first Friday in every 
 July, has been successively observed to this time, in 
 compliment, and in commemoration of their old friend 
 and “brother chip,” to whose pious memory they 
 never fail to drink. The great annual resort to Fair- 
 lop Fair is so well known for twenty miles around, 
 that it is needless to say more on the subject than 
 that in point of the number of persons who go to it 
 and in accomodations and articles for sale, it is not 
 inferior to any fair near the metropolis, excepting that 
 it is only of one day’s duration. Seven and twenty 
 years have now elapsed since the famous Fairlop Oak 
 ceased to attract the attention of the holiday-makers 
 l)ut the mirth and festivity, gypsying, archery, don- 
 key-riding, swinging, &c. are still to be witnessed to 
 H great extent. Long may Fairlop’s Friday continue 
 to be joyously looked forward to by all as “the good ' 
 Djy^’s” day of “fun and jollity!” 
 
7 
 
 You must inarch by threes, close to the public house. 
 
 And take particular care the French do not you rouse. 
 Indeed, come whatever may, you must not retreat from 
 there, 
 
 While our brave General Vivian reconnoitres elsewhere. 
 
 PART V. 
 
 Three o’clock in the morning the day began to break, 
 And perhaps many a brave heart began to ache. 
 
 I saw something move in a garden of good coleworts. 
 
 It was a strong piquet of the enemy’s fine cohorts. 
 
 How thick they appear’d in a mass condens’d all together, 
 Like chickens cover’d over by their mother in cold weather. 
 Frenchmen are famous soldiers, and very fond of greens. 
 They like to get into a wood too, there they have screens! 
 Day-light appear’d, our infantry were nearly all gone. 
 
 But the cavalry remain’d still, then merely to look on. 
 
 A lot of French sharp-shooters had crept through the wood. 
 And come up to the hedge on our left where we stood. 
 ^‘Retire further back more than yards one hundred, 
 
 Then they cannot reach you with their small thunder; 
 Send a small patrole out to the left on that road. 
 
 There is a little shelter, there they may have some abode! 
 The riflemen will not come out of that thick wood. 
 
 Indeed you might have remain’d still where you stood. 
 Now instantly feed one half of the horses with corn. 
 
 Some work is cut out for all of them this morn 
 When that half has done, let the other half begin. 
 
 That is the way to make the horses neigh or sing. 
 
 I know they’re very fond of the standing corn. 
 
 But that is not sound food, and it may do them harm." 
 
 All remained pretty quiet till seven in the morn ; 
 
 The French on our right began to move through corn. 
 Towards us they came, but it was at a very slow pace. 
 They soon halted again, us they durst not face. 
 
 Our grand Diike, with his spying glass close to his eye. 
 Said, “What are those troops the church passing by? 
 General Vivian, send an intelligent officer to the front. 
 
 To ascertain how many men he can count. 
 
 Hardman ! you must go to the front with great speed. 
 Ascend the top of the hill just over the mead.” 
 
 The spurs into my horse I stuck up to the hilt, 
 
 And up the field gallopp’d as hard as I could tilt. 
 
 I then counted the French by the gallop of my horse. 
 
 That is a difficult thing to do without any loss. 
 
THE WILL OF Hr. DANIEL DAT. 
 
 (NEVER BEFORE PRINTED.) 
 
 laxtractctJ from tl)c Begiatri) of tf)C 
 ^rcrogatibe Court of Canterburp. 
 
 3in tfie ^ame of (Botr, mmn* 
 
 J, DANIEL DAY, of the Parish of Saint John, Wapping, in the 
 County of Middlesex, late Block and Pump Maker, do hereby 
 revoke all former Wills by me at any time heretofore made, arid 
 do make and declare this to be my last Will and Testament. I 
 desire to be decently buried in Barking Church Yard, in the 
 County of Essex, at the discretion of my Executors hereinafter 
 named. And I desire to have six men of the same trade that I 
 followed to attend my funeral, and to put my body into a boat, 
 and to convey the same to Barking aforesaid by water, and then 
 to sec the same interred. And I give and bequeath to the said 
 six men one guinea each, and also a new apron, and a pair of 
 gloves to each of them for their trouble therein. I give and be- 
 queath unto Thomas Dillow, of the Parish of Broughing, in the 
 County of Hertford, five pounds. I give and bequeath to Thomas 
 Wright, of the Parish of Standon, in the said County of Hertford, 
 five ])Ounds. I give and bequeath to my Servant, Elizabeth 
 Richardson, five pounds, and a bed, in case she shall be living 
 with me at the time of my decease. I give and bequeath to the 
 Treasurer of the Charity School of the Parish of Saint John, 
 Wapping, aforesaid, the sum of five pounds, in trust, and for the 
 sole use and benefit of the Children belonging to the said School. 
 I give and bequeath to the poor of the Parish of Barking, afore- 
 said, the sum of two pounds, to be distributed amongst them by 
 the Church Wardens and Overseers of the said Parish, in such 
 manner as they shall think proper. I give and bequeath to the 
 Children of Blagrave Gregory the sum of one hundred pounds, to 
 be equally divided to and amongst them, share and share alike, 
 and to be paid to them by my Executors hereinafter named, when 
 and so soon ns they shall respectively attain their ages of tu enty- 
 one years, or days of marriage, which shall first happen; and in 
 case any or cither of them shall happen to (lie before they shall 
 attain their ages of twenty-one years, or be married, then the share 
 of him, her, or them, so ’dying, shall be equally divided to and 
 araono’st the survivor or survivors of them ; and in case there shall 
 be but one such Child who shall live to attain the age of twenty- 
 one years, or be married, then I give the said one hundred pounds 
 to such surviving Child. And as to all my money in the public 
 funds, goods, chattels, and all other the rest, residue, and re- 
 nrainder of my personal Estate, of what nature or kind soever, 
 which I shall be possessed of, interested in, or entitled unto, at 
 the time of my decease, after fayment of my just debts and fune- 
 ral expences, I will, order, and direct, that my Executors herein- 
 after named, and the Executors and Administrators of the survivor 
 
Is there any good water for the horses here ?’» 
 
 **[’““* than the village there.” 
 
 Thlf ™®" ®“t «"rae of that green corn ; 
 
 do instead of water till to-morrow morn. 
 Before the king of day cover’d himself over 
 I saw through that hedge some corn and clover; 
 
 et some men per troop go with their swords, ' 
 
 And cut some down without any more words. 
 
 Here is a farm-house, too, close by this place. 
 
 Perhaps some milk may be gotten for our race ; 
 
 Het a dozen men go with their canteens. 
 
 Those exceeding fine men now in their teens, 
 is the moon asleep, or is it under ground ? 
 
 'Tho veiy dark one cannot look around. 
 
 WithT"J® '’“f cover’d over in bed, 
 
 Those^nrJl' 
 
 To loi • *** drawn to show his power, 
 
 lo let us sinners know that he can us devour. 
 
 Tn^i^^fn" r I" element so high. 
 
 To u ™ake our hearts sigh. 
 
 To make us all wet too, the black border he now wring 
 
 Go S fK P'*®®’ '^®‘ '‘'1 things, 
 
 o, send the officers commanding troops to me. 
 
 They must come quickly, them F want to see, 
 lo receive my orders, and to execute them to-night, 
 
 *1 ^ ^® ''®ndy to-morrow morning to fight. 
 
 dove”r?”“''* ynn gotten some good green corn an 
 
 ‘**® niJ of them came over.” 
 
 ^ iviy orders were positive to cut it instantly down.” 
 
 « a ** j ““*■ "’here it was sown.” 
 
 An order to the Commissary I will quickly give, 
 o pay the value of it, that every farmer may live. 
 
 Hach man must lie down in the front of his horse. 
 
 And mount in an instant, should there be any cause. 
 
 I he men may light fires too, if wood can be gotten, 
 Ihere is a little close by, and it is very rotten. 
 Gentlemen, depart, and attend to your troops, — 
 
 . the men must eat their victuals without any roots.” 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 Twelve o clock in the night, all perfectly quiet. 
 Sentinels close together, talking about fowl diet. 
 
 The French sentinel began to prate to the English loud,— 
 He said, have good gin to help to carry my load. 
 
^orto M. 
 
 of them, shall stand seized and possessed of the same upon tru»t 
 and confidence; nevcrtlielcss, to make sale of any part of my goods 
 and chattels, and to call in and receive such parts of my said per- 
 sonal Estate as is now outstanding, and to invest the money arising 
 thereby in some or one of the public funds, or Government securi- 
 ties, in the names of my said Executors; and when the same shall 
 be so invested, as aforesaid, it is my will and I do hereby give and 
 bequeath all the residue of my said personal Estate (after payment 
 of my just debts and legacies, hereinbefore mentioned) unto Wil- 
 liam Weale, Tabitha Weale, Sarah Ann Weale, Daniel Weale, 
 James Weale, Esther Day Weale,'and Louisa Weale, the sons and 
 daughters of James Weale, late of the Parish of Saint John, Wap- 
 ping, aforesaid, Block Maker, deceased, to be equally divided to 
 and amongst them, share and share alike, and to be paid to them 
 respectively on their attaining their respective ages of twenty-one 
 years, or days of marriage, which shall first happen; and in case 
 any or either of them shall happen to die before he, she, or they, 
 shall attain their ages of twenty-one years, or be married, then 
 the share of him, her, or them, so dying, shall go to the survivor, 
 or survivors, of them, share and share alike. And 1 do hereby or- 
 der and direct that my said Executors shall not be answerable, or 
 accountable, for the acts, deeds, receipts, or payments, of the other 
 of them, but each of them for his and their own acts, deeds, re- 
 ceipts, and payments, respectively. And that my said Executors, 
 their Executors, or Administrators, shall deduct and retain in his 
 or their hands, all such costs, charges, and expences, which they, 
 any, or either, of them shall sustain, or be put unto, in, or about, 
 the execution of this my Will. And I do hereby constitute and 
 appoint William Camden, and John Camden, of the said Parish of 
 Saint John, Wapping, aforesaid. Sugar Refiner, and Peter Mans- 
 well, of the Parish of Saint Matthew, Bethnal Green, in the said 
 County of Middlesex, Tallow Chandler, Executors of this my 
 Will. In witness whereof, T, the said Daniel Day, the Testator, 
 have to this, my last Will and Testament, contained in three 
 sheets of paper, annexed together and sealed with my seal, to the 
 two first of the said sheets set my hand, and to the last my hand 
 and seal, and published and declared the same, this thirty-first 
 day of December, in the year of our Lord one thousand, seven 
 hundred, and sixty-six. 
 
 ISantel 
 
 Signed, sealed^ published, and declared, by the said Testator, 
 Daniel Day, as and for his last Will and Testament, in the pre- 
 sence of us, who, in his presence, and at his request, and in the 
 presence of each other, have subscribed our names as Wit- 
 nesses thereto. * I^TuOtlliinf 
 
 QToatt&p 
 
 l3of)n 
 
 Proved at hondon the October, in the year of 0 ‘ur Lord 1767* 
 
5 
 
 Is there any good water for the horses here 
 *^No, sir, not any, nearer than the village there/* 
 
 ‘^Then let the men cut some of that green corn ; 
 
 7hat will do instead of water till to-morrow morn. 
 Before the king of day cover’d himself over, 
 
 I saw through that hedge some corn and clover; 
 
 Let some men per troop go with their swords. 
 
 And cut some down without any more words. 
 
 Here is a farm-house, too, close by this place, 
 
 Perhaps some milk may be gotten for our race ^ 
 
 Let a dozen men go with their canteens, 
 
 Those exceeding fine men now in their teens. 
 
 Is the moon asleep, or is it under ground ? 
 
 H is now so very dark one cannot look around. 
 
 The moon is not asleep, hut cover’d over in bed. 
 
 With black cloudy curtains close round its sickly head ; 
 Those curtains God has di'awn to show his power. 
 
 To let us sinners know that he can us devour. 
 
 One curtain is so black too, in the element so high, 
 
 To hide the light from us, to make our hearts sigh. 
 
 To make us all wet too, the black border he now wrings, 
 It begins to drop a good pace, to wet all our things. 
 
 Go, send the officers commanding troops to me. 
 
 They must come quickly, them I want to see, 
 
 To receive my orders, and to execute them to-night. 
 
 That all may be ready to-morrow morning to fight. 
 Gentlemen, have you gotten some good green corn and 
 clover?” 
 
 ^‘Yes, but the farmers all of them came over.” 
 
 I^My orders were positive to cut it instantly down.” 
 
 *^It is all cut off, sir, from where it was sown.” 
 
 *‘An order to the Commissary I will quickly give. 
 
 To pay the value of it, that every farmer may live. 
 
 Each man must lie down in the front of his horse, 
 
 And mount in an instant, should there be any cause. 
 
 The men may light fires too, if wood can be gotten, 
 
 There is a little close by, and it is very rotten. 
 
 Gentlemen, depart, and attend to your troops, — 
 
 O ! the men must eat their victuals without any roots.” 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 Twelve o’clock in the night, all perfectly quiet. 
 Sentinels close together, talking about fowl diet. 
 
 The French sentinel began to prate to the English loud,-— 
 He said, “I have good gin to help to carry my load. 
 
FAIRLOFIAN FOEMS AND SONGS. 
 
 ' • • ^ . j: .. . 
 
 THE FAIR DAV', OF FAIRLOP FAIR. 
 
 JULY 3, 1846. 
 
 •/ : 
 
 COME lovers of doggrel, come lovers of sport, 
 
 Haste here — at the bidding of Momus resort, 
 
 And toss up your “toppers” ten feet in the air, 
 
 Since weVe had a fair day for the Day of our Fair. 
 
 Sure, Jove at our bidding fulfilPd our desire, 
 
 And each rider, each walker, each seller, and buyer. 
 
 Of pleasure and profit came in for their share, ^ 
 
 As they hail’d the fair day, on the Day of the Fair. 
 
 If the Satyrs and Fawns were unseen in tlie dance 
 And the Dryads themselves look'd a little askance. 
 
 Yet the beaux and the belles throng’d in many a pair^ 
 Nor thought of an absence from Faii lop the Fair, ^ 
 
 Pedestrians — equestrians — vehicnlars — all 
 Of splendor or merriment kept up the ball ; ^ 
 
 And Venus herself, or else some to compare, 
 
 Adorn’d the fair day, and the Day of the Fair. 
 
 How delightful the scene! — how great were the joys 
 Of the saunt’rers, and simp’rers, and venders of toys; 
 
 And the lov'd and the lovely of each had their share] 
 
 And enjoy’d the fair day, and the Day of the Fair. 
 
 Not more had there been of din, frolic, and fun, ^ 
 
 Had Bacchus been present, bestriding his tun ; 
 
 And Mercury himself had his followers there, 
 
 Who hail'd the fair day, and the Day of the Fair. 
 
 ’Tis certain at evening Diana look’d down, 
 
 And eclipsed in a trice all the gas-lights in Town* 
 
 Whilst our taverns, though hrilliant, shone forth in despair, 
 As the night drew her curtain of cloud round the Fair. 
 
 Then, lovers of doggrel, and lovers of sport. 
 
 Next year at the bidding Of Momus re.^ort; 
 
 And Apollo himself shall in future repair, 
 
 And still give a fair day for the Day of our Fair. 
 
7 
 
 You must march by threes, close to the public house. 
 And take particular care the French do not you rouse. 
 Indeed, come whatever may, you must not retreat from 
 there, 
 
 While our brave General Vivian reconnoitres elsewhere, 
 
 PART V. 
 
 Three o’clock in the morning the day began to break 
 And perhaps many a brave heart began to ache * 
 
 I saw something move in a garden of good coleworts 
 n was a strong piquet of the enemy’s fine cohorts. 
 
 How thick they appear’d in a mass condens’d all together, 
 ^ike chickens cover’d over by their mother in cold weather. 
 Frenchmen are famous soldiers, and very fond of greens 
 They like to get into a wood too, there they have screens! 
 Hay-light appear’d, our infantry were nearly all gone. 
 
 But the cavalry remain’d still, then merely to look on. 
 
 A lor of French sharp-shooters had crept through the wood 
 And come up to the hedge on our left where we stood. 
 “Retire further back more than yards one hundred, 
 
 Then they cannot reach you with their small thunder* 
 Send a small patrole out to the left on that road, ’ 
 There is a little shelter, there they may have some abode ! 
 The riflemen will not come out of that thick wood. 
 
 Indeed you might have remain’d still where you stood. 
 
 Now instantly feed one half of the horses with corn. 
 
 Some work is cut out for all of them this morn. 
 
 When that half has done, let the other half begin. 
 
 That is the way to make the horses neigh or sing. 
 
 1 know they’re very fond of the standing corn. 
 
 But that is not sound food, and it may do them harm.^* 
 
 All remained pretty quiet till seven in the morn ; 
 
 The French on our right began to move through corn. 
 Towards us they came, but it was at a very slow pace. 
 They soon halted again, us they durst not face. 
 
 Our grand Duke, with his spying glass close to his eye. 
 Said, “What are those troops the church passing by?^ 
 General Vivian, send an intelligent officer to the front, 
 
 To ascertain how many men he can count. 
 
 Hardman ! you must go to the front with great speed. 
 Ascend the top of the hill just over the mead.” 
 
 The spurs into my horse I stuck up to the hilt. 
 
 And up the field gallopp’d as hard as I could tilt. 
 
 I then counted the French by the gallop of my horse. 
 
 That is a difficult thing to do without any loss. 
 
 t 
 
INVITATION TO FAIRLOP FAIR. 
 
 (reprinted VERBATI3I.) 
 
 COME to Fairlop Fair; we good fellows invite; 
 
 So partake of that day, which is our delight; 
 
 For we have spirits like fire; our courage is good; 
 
 And we meet with the best of respect on the road; 
 
 When you see us, you’ll say we are mounted quite gay; 
 
 Success to the lads, that delight in that day. 
 
 Haste away, haste away; all nature seems gay, 
 
 Let us drink to the joys of old Fairlop so gay! 
 
 Our horses are all of the very best blood ; 
 
 Our boat is well built, and her rigging is good. 
 
 With our boats and our badges we unanimous declare. 
 And join baud in hand, to support the old Fair; 
 
 We’ll jovially sing, and our music shall play. 
 
 And a set of staunch ponies will tow us away. 
 
 Haste away, haste away, &c. 
 
 ’Twas one Daniel Day, that first founded this Fair, 
 
 And as hearty a fellow as ever was there; 
 
 The Lord of the Manor a Charter did gain, 
 
 And all true sons of Neptune will uphold the same; 
 
 AVe’ll enjoy all the pleasure that springs from that day, 
 And ever remember good old Daniel Day. 
 
 Haste away, haste away. &c. 
 
 From Wapping Old Stairs, away then we diive, 
 
 When the first Friday in July docs arrive; 
 
 We breakfast at Woodford ; at Loughton we lunch, 
 
 And at our old friend’s house we’ll dine and drink punch; 
 When our Boatswain will start us away for the Fair, 
 While Phoebus does shine on our Colours so clear. 
 
 Haste away, haste away, &c. 
 
 It’s when from the Forest to Ilford we steer, 
 
 Every town we go through, we will give them three Cheer 
 Then on our way home we will still get refreshed ; 
 
 Then return hack to Wapping, to sup of the best; 
 
 Where we’ll dance and we’ll sing so cheerful and gay, 
 
 And ever remember old Daniel Day. 
 
 Haste away, basis away, &c. 
 
 Now having described our boat, horses, and crew, 
 
 And old Fairlop so gay, which you all may review, 
 
 Our boat now comes home by the winding of caul ; — • 
 
 And so you are welcome unto Fairlop Hall! — 
 
 Our boat we’ll put by for another Fair-day, 
 
 And ever remember good old Daniel Day. 
 
 Haste away, haste away; all nature seems gay, 
 
 Let us drink to the joys of old Fairlop so gay I 
 
You must march by threes, close to the public house. 
 
 And take particular care the French do not you rouse. 
 Indeed, come whatever may, you must not retreat from 
 there. 
 
 While our brave General Vivian reconnoitres elsewhere. 
 
 PART V. 
 
 Three o’clock in the morning the day began to break, 
 And perhaps many a brave heart began to ache 
 I saw something move in a garden of good coleworts. 
 
 It was a strong piquet of the enemy’s fine cohorts. 
 
 How thick they appear’d in a mass condens’d all together, 
 Like chickens cover’d over by their mother in cold weather. 
 Frenchmen are famous soldiers, and very fond of greens, 
 They like to get into a wood too, there they have screens! 
 Day-light appear’d, our infantry were nearly all gone, 
 
 But the cavalry remain’d still, then merely to look on. 
 
 A lot of French sharp-shooters had crept through the wood. 
 And come np to the hedge on our left where we stood. 
 
 Retire further back more than yards one hundred, 
 
 Then they cannot reach you with their small thunder; 
 Send a small patrole out to the left on that road, 
 
 There is a little shelter, there they may have some abode ! 
 The riflemen will not come out of that thick wood. 
 
 Indeed you might have remain’d still where you stood. 
 Now instantly feed one half of the horses with corn. 
 
 Some work is cut out for all of them this morn 
 When that half has done, let the other half begin. 
 
 That is the way to make the horses neigh or sing. 
 
 I know they’re very fond of the standing corn. 
 
 But that is not sound food, and it may do them barm.” 
 All remained pretty quiet till seven in the morn ; 
 
 The French on our right began to move through corn. 
 Towards us they came, but it was at a very slow pace, 
 They soon halted again, us they durst not face. 
 
 Our grand Duke, with his spying glass close to his eye, 
 Said, “What are those troops the church passing by? 
 General Vivian, send an intelligent officer to the front. 
 
 To ascertain how many men he can count 
 
 Hardman ! you must go to the front with great speed. 
 
 Ascend the top of the hill just over the mead.” 
 
 The spurs into my horse I stuck up to the hilt. 
 
 And up the field gallopp’d as hard as I could tilt. 
 
 I then counted the French by the gallop of my horse. 
 That is a difficult thing to do without any loss. 
 
EXCURSION TO FAIRLOP FAIR. 
 
 (reprinted verbatim.) 
 
 LADS, let us jovial float 
 Merry in our tight-rigg’d boat; 
 
 Our Pilot so gay with badge and coat 
 Shall tow us along: 
 
 The music shall so sweetly play. 
 
 And all shall be so blithe and gay ; 
 We’ll laugh and joke. 
 
 And drink and smoke. 
 
 And join tlie cheerful song. 
 
 Lads, let us, &c. 
 
 On the first Friday after June, 
 
 Like the birds, we’re in full tune; 
 
 We rise up in the morning soon. 
 
 Our neat boat to trim. 
 
 From St. George’s turnpike we do start. 
 And with joy from home depart. 
 
 Music playing. 
 
 Colours flying, 
 
 Then does the fun begin. 
 
 Lads, let us, &c. 
 
 Then first to Ilford we do steer. 
 
 And, when we have had breakfast there. 
 Then to Ronrford do repair ; 
 
 From thence to Hornchurch go; 
 Thence back again we go to dine. 
 
 Where we booze on punch and wine. 
 Singing, dancing, 
 
 Life enhancing, 
 
 For pleasure all on tip-toe. 
 
 Lads, let us, &c. 
 
 Then to Fairlop Fair we steer. 
 
 With carriages in front and rear. 
 
 Our skins quite brimful with good cheer; 
 
 So mellow then we start; 
 
 Then we o’er the Forest ride, 
 
 Neither fearing wind nor tide, 
 
 Singing, laughing, 
 
 Drinking, quaffing. 
 
 Merrily we glide. 
 
 Lads, let us, &c. 
 
 When Phoebus to the west draws near, 
 And the feather’d race doth disappear. 
 Then from the Forest we do steer. 
 
 At nford awhile to stay ; 
 
I will give some to you, your English soul to charm, 
 
 And will be answerable, to you it shall do no harm/' 
 ^*Stop !” says stubborn John Bull, “ I hear our foot patrole, 
 When it is gone back we may drink in that hole.” 
 
 Who comes there ?” says the English sentinel so bold. 
 ^^The English patrole, that is not very old ” 
 
 Advance, patrole, and give the Countersign to me.” 
 ^*The Countersign is London, — 1 now give it to thee. 
 Are all quiet in front ? do they remain very still ?” 
 
 just heard their patrole, but it did me no ill.” 
 
 ^^Have you heard any dogs making a great noise?” 
 
 **No, they are all very quiet, — that is the most wise.” 
 ‘‘To the right about face, quick march, are the words. 
 We shall soon be at ease without drawing our swords. 
 French sentinel, draw the charge in your gun. 
 
 Then sit down, we may now have some good fun.” 
 
 •‘No,” said the Frenchman, “I cannot draw my ball, 
 Leave our guns at our posts, or placed against the wall.” 
 This was soon agreed on, they then went into the hole. 
 To drink some good gin, each to cherish his soul ; 
 
 They there sat down together, each smoking his pipe. 
 And neither of them attempted each other to pique. 
 
 They then drank a pint of the very best gin. 
 
 That made them jabber glibly they both wish'd to win. 
 “Now we must return, each to his own station, 
 
 I pray for Old England, God bless that dear nation.” 
 Then says the Frenchman, “I shall pray for France, 
 
 And to-morrow we will give you a good skipping dance.” 
 
 One o'clock in the morning, the fires look bright. 
 
 Some men are snoring, others are ready to fight ; 
 
 All still and quiet amongst the soldiers of horse. 
 
 The infantry are retiring slowly, without any loss. 
 
 The fires in the French camp are made much bigger, 
 
 It is not because the weather has more rigour. 
 
 It is because they hear our cannon rattling over the stones. 
 But if they advance one inch we will break their bones. 
 Those guns are retiring with the infantry division. 
 
 All well loaded with balls and oceans of ammunition. 
 
 How quickly they knew the artillery had begun to rove, 
 They then expected that we should all sharply move. 
 “Dragoons! each man stand to his horse, ready to mount! 
 They shall find our English steel is not so very blunt.” 
 
 At two o’clock the General’s Aide-de-camp came walking, 
 “ I have orders for you to advance silently, without talking. 
 
Then from the Angel at Ilford 
 Merry we're tow’d along the road ; 
 c - All hearty, jovial. 
 
 Quite convivial, — 
 
 Thus we finish the day. 
 
 Lads, let us, &c. 
 
 THE TRIP TO FAIRLOP; 
 
 OR, A LOVER'S TRIUMPH. 
 
 {Exhibiting the Dialect of the Peasantry of Essex.) 
 
 «3E1R,— ^rctotallcr.” 
 
 BY CHARLES CLARK, OF TOTHAM. 
 
 YOUN' SIMON ov Fairlop, a noice steady lad was he. 
 
 The jouy ov his mouther — the proide ov his dad was he; 
 
 An', as a ploughmun, folks say, yow scace ever ded 
 Clap oyes upun one wot his wark hafe so clever ded. 
 
 To ‘^come oup” to him, all his mates, they hestirrers wor. 
 
 For straight — proper straight uns — they spied all his thurrars wor; 
 But, our Simon, nut onny at plonghin* 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 stop put to all his tranquillity; 
 
 For into his heart soon much fudder love's urrars 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. 
 
 Qiioite the proide ov the willage this naarbour's gud darter was, 
 Whoile for some toime our Simon's wesh her to “goo arter" was; 
 An' that wot cud nut be at some oather places done, 
 
 Was — in wuds nut so wusser — at Fairlop with graces 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 quoit: 
 His Dorcas's conduct, oh ! now it was such, he ded 
 E'en begin to hev tbotes ov the axin’ at chutch, he ded! 
 
 Our Simon an’ Dorcas, stcll.yit at the Fair wor they — 
 
 Now sot down in somC “Tavin," quoite free from all care wor they : 
 Where there was such guzzlin', an' such ham-an’-wealin’ it, — 
 Whoile many loike blazes kept on toe-an’-heelin’ it. 
 
I will give some to you, your English soul to charm, 
 
 And will be answerable, to you it shall do no harm/' 
 ^‘Stop !” says stubborn John Bull, ‘‘ I hear our foot patrole, 
 When it is gone back we may drink in that hole.” 
 
 Who comes there says the English sentinel so bold. 
 ^^The English patrole, that is not very old ” 
 
 Advance, patrole, and give the Countersign to me.” 
 ^‘The Countersign is London, — 1 now give it to thee. 
 Are all quiet in front? do they remain very still?” 
 
 just heard their patrole, but it did me no ill.” 
 
 *^Have you heard any dogs making a great noise?” 
 
 ^^No, they are all very quiet, — that is the most wise.” 
 ^‘To the right about face, quick march, are the words, 
 We shall soon be at ease without drawing our swords. 
 French sentinel, draw the charge in your gun. 
 
 Then sit down, we may now have some good fun.” 
 
 ^‘No,” said the Frenchman, I cannot draw my ball, 
 Leave our guns at our posts, or placed against the wall.” 
 This was soon agreed on, they then went into the hole. 
 
 To drink some good gin, each to cherish his soul ; 
 
 They there sat down together, each smoking his pipe. 
 And neither of them attempted each other to pique. 
 
 They then drank a pint of the very best gin. 
 
 That made them jabber glibly they both wish'd to win. 
 “Now we must return, each to his own station, 
 
 I pray for Old England, God bless that dear nation.” 
 Then says the Frenchman, “I shall pray for France, 
 
 And to-morrow we will give you a good skipping dance.” 
 
 One o’clock in the morning, the fires look bright. 
 
 Some men are snoring, others are ready to fight ; 
 
 All still and quiet amongst the soldiers of horse. 
 
 The infantry are retiring slowly, without any loss. 
 
 The fires in the French camp are made much bigger. 
 
 It is not because the weather has more rigour. 
 
 It is because they hear our cannon rattling over the stones. 
 But if they advance one inch we will break their bones. 
 Those guns are retiring with the infantry division, 
 
 All well loaded with balls and oceans of ammunition. 
 
 How quickly they knew the artillery had begun to rove. 
 They then expected that we should all sharply move. 
 “Dragoons! each man stand to his horse, ready to mounti 
 They shall find our English steel is not so very blunt.” 
 
 At two o’clock the General’s Aide-de-camp came walking, 
 “I have orders for you to advance silently, without talking. 
 
At Fairlop, the pair, onp 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 ban' ded he! 
 
 Whoile at Fairlop, poor Dorcas, once or twoice rayther frown'd 
 had she. 
 
 For, somehows, so dartied her best yallar gowiid had she; 
 
 An', our Simon, some chaps there to bouy ded beset him so, 
 
 He at last ded agree, when he foun* — they had chet him so! 
 
 To be oaf friim their “Tavin” quoitc toime it now gittin' was, — > 
 ’Sides, there was such a tarnation smudge where etch siltin’ was: 
 So when 'mong the stawls they had had a shote roam agin, 
 
 Frum the F<iiest they trapsed on to Dorcas’s home agin. 
 
 When snong fnim the bonstle, 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 — (hut wot lover do less ded he?) — 
 That he’d soon come agin — for xcot^ Simon, guess ded he! 
 
 A few moanths arter this, our pair, made but one wor they, 
 ^^Tied oup,” one foine nioarn, by some grave Levi’s son wor they; 
 An', by the smoile on etch face — so yowM guess it stcll — 
 
 Their trip to oad Fairlop, much cause they’ve to bless it stell! 
 
 FAIR-LOP FAIR. 
 
 (reprinted verbatim ) 
 
 COME, come, my boys, with a hearty glee. 
 
 To Fairlop Fair — bear chorus with me; 
 
 At Hainault Forest, ’tis known very well. 
 
 This famous Oak has long borne the bell. 
 
 Let music sound, as the boat goes round; 
 
 If we tumble on the ground, we’ll be merry. I'll be 
 bound, 
 
 We will booze it away; dull care we’ll defy. 
 
 And be happy on the first Friday in July. 
 
 To Hainault Forest Queen Anne she did ride. 
 
 And beheld the beautiful Oak by her side; 
 
 And, after viewing it from the bottom to the top. 
 
 She said to her Court, that it was ^air-lop I 
 
 It is eight fathoms round, spreads an acre of ground ; 
 They plaster’d it round, to keep the Tree sound; 
 So we'll booze it away ; dull care we’ll defy. 
 
 And be happy on the first Friday in July. 
 
 About a century ago, as I have heard say. 
 
 This Fair it was kept by one Daniel Day, 
 
 As hearty a good fellow as ever there could be; 
 
 His coffin was made of a limb of the Tree. 
 
6 
 
 I will give some to you, your English soul to charm, 
 rAnd will be answerable, to you it shall do no harm.” 
 ^^Stop !” says stubborn John Bull, I hear our foot patrole^ 
 When it is gone back we may drink in that hole.” 
 
 ^^Who comes there?” says the English sentinel so bold. 
 ^^The English patrole, that is not very old ” 
 
 Advance, patrole, and give the Countersign to me.” 
 ^*The Countersign is London, — 1 now give it to thee. 
 Are all quiet in front? do they remain very still ?” 
 
 just heard their patrole, but it did me no ill.” 
 
 ^^Have you heard any dogs making a great noise?” 
 
 ^^No, they are all very quiet, — that is the most wise.” 
 ^‘To the right about face, quick march, are the words, 
 We shall soon be at ease without drawing our swords. 
 French sentinel, draw the charge in your gun. 
 
 Then sit down, we may now have some good fun.” 
 
 *‘No,” said the Frenchman, “I cannot draw my ball, 
 Leave our guns at our posts, or placed against the wall.” 
 This was soon agreed on, they then went into the hole. 
 
 To drink some good gin, each to cherish his soul ; 
 
 They there sat down together, each smoking his pipe, 
 
 And neither of them attempted each other to pique. 
 
 They then drank a pint of the very best gin. 
 
 That made them jabber glibly they both wish’d to win. 
 ^‘Now we must return, each to his own station, 
 
 I pray for Old England, God bless that dear nation.” 
 
 Then says the Frenchman, ‘‘ I shall pray for France, 
 
 And to-morrow we will give you a good skipping dance.” 
 
 One o’clock in the morning, the fires look bright. 
 
 Some men are snoring, others are ready to fight ; 
 
 All still and quiet amongst the soldiers of horse. 
 
 The infantry are retiring slowly, without any loss. 
 
 The fires in the French camp are made much bigger. 
 
 It is not because the weather has more rigour. 
 
 It is because they hear our cannon rattling over the stones. 
 But if they advance one inch we will break their bones. 
 
 ^ Those guns arc retiring with the infantry division. 
 
 All well loaded with balls and oceans of ammunition. 
 
 How quickly they knew the artillery bad begun to rove. 
 They then expected that we should all sharply move. 
 ‘‘Dragoons! each man stand to his horse, ready to mount! 
 
 I They shall find our English steel is not so very blunt.” 
 
 At two o’clock the General’s Aide-de-camp came walking, 
 i “ I have orders for you to advance silently, without talking. 
 
 
 
With black-strap and sherry, he made his friends 
 merry, 
 
 All sorrows for to drown in brandy, rum, and pen‘y ; 
 So they boozed it away; dull care we will defy. 
 And be happy on the first Friday in July. 
 
 At Hainault old Forest there standeth a tree, 
 
 ^ And round it have been dances, mirth, pranks, and glee’; 
 is surrounded with woods, lawns, and plains. 
 
 Where the merry little warblers pour forth their sweet 
 strains. 
 
 So we'll dance round the Tree, and merry we will be 
 Every year we'll agree the fair Fair for to see ; 
 And we’ll booze it away; dull care we will defy> 
 And be happy on the first Friday in July. 
 
 FAIRLOP #AIR. 
 ■alia,— iWaypoU.” 
 
 BY JOHN LAHERN. 
 
 !’ 
 
 LAST Fairlop Fair — to drive away care. 
 
 To toddle there we swore — $ 
 
 There was ugly Bob, and Sam the snob, 
 
 And five and twenty more. 
 
 Pat Murphy promised Fair^ 
 
 So him we couldn't doubt — 
 
 And what was pleasant, I declare. 
 
 Our mothers let us out. Tol lol, &c. 
 
 A cart and horse we hired, in course. 
 
 Of Costermonger Joe — 
 
 Who swore the nag was like a stag, 
 
 A regular good 'un to go. 
 
 We took him at his word. 
 
 And paid a suvverin down. 
 
 And away we toddled, toddled, toddled. 
 
 And hook'd it out of town. Tol lol, &c. 
 
 Sam wore whites, and Bob wore tights, 
 
 With a spicy long-taiVd blue. 
 
 While all the rest were up and drest 
 in tbggery ^‘petter as new." 
 
 Besid^C, it was agreed 
 By Sam and ugly Bobby, 
 
 A nosegay we should wear apiece. 
 
 To make us all look nobby. Tol lol, &c. 
 
 Away we went, on pleasure bent, 
 
 As hard as we could trot— 
 
 The horse look’d bold, no wives did scold, 
 _*T?iit the sun was werry hot. 
 
6 
 
 I will give some to you, your English soul to charm. 
 
 And will be answerable, to you it shall do no barm/^ 
 *^Stop !” says stubborn John Bull, “ I hear our foot patrole. 
 When it is gone back we may drink in that hole.” 
 
 ** Who comes there ?” says the English sentinel so bold. 
 ^^The English patrole, that is not very old.” 
 
 Advance, patrole, and give the Countersign to me.” 
 ^^The Countersign is London, — 1 now give it to thee. 
 Are all quiet in front ? do they remain very still ?” 
 
 just heard their patrole, but it did me no ill.” 
 
 ^^Have you heard any dogs making a great noise?” 
 
 ^^No, they are all very quiet, — that is the most wise.” 
 ‘*To the right about face, quick march, are the words. 
 We shall soon be at ease without drawing our swords. 
 French sentinel, draw the charge in your gun. 
 
 Then sit down, we may now have some good fun.” 
 
 •*No,” said the Frenchman, cannot draw my ball, 
 Leave our guns at our posts, or placed against the wall.” 
 This was soon agreed on, they then went into the hole. 
 To drink some good gin, each to cherish his soul ; 
 
 They there sat down together, each smoking his pipe. 
 And neither of them attempted each other to pique. 
 
 They then drank a pint of the very best gin. 
 
 That made them jabber glibly they both wish'd to win. 
 ^‘Now we must return, each to his own station, 
 
 I pray for Old England, God bless that dear nation.” 
 Then says the Frenchman, “ I shall pray for France, 
 
 And to-morrow we will give you a good skipping dance.” 
 
 One o’clock in the morning, the fires look bright. 
 
 Some men are snoring, others are ready to fight ; 
 
 All still and quiet amongst the soldiers of horse. 
 
 The infantry are retiring slowly, without any loss. 
 
 The fires in the French camp are made much bigger, 
 
 It is not because the weather has more rigour. 
 
 It is because they hear our cannon rattling over the stones, 
 But if they advance one inch we will break their bones. 
 Those guns are retiring with the infantry division, 
 
 All well loaded with balls and oceans of ammunition. 
 
 How quickly they knew the artillery had begun to rove. 
 They then expected that we should all sharply move. 
 “Dragoons! each man stand to his horse, ready to mount ! 
 They shall find our English steel is not so very blunt.” 
 
 At two o’clock the General’s Aide-de-camp came walking, 
 “I have orders for you to advance silently, without talking. 
 
The perspiration roll'd. 
 
 The ladies’ colours run, 
 
 Which clearly proved, and no mistake. 
 
 They’d all been in the sun. Tol lol, &c. 
 
 A treat, I’m blow’d, ’twas, down the road. 
 
 To see him gallop hard. 
 
 When all at once, the stupid dunce. 
 
 He wouldn’t stir a yard. 
 
 We give it him over the nob. 
 
 And whopp’d him on the flank — 
 
 But, lord! you might as well have tried 
 
 To move the precious Bank. Tol lol, &c. 
 
 The people laugh’d, and jeer’d and chaff’d. 
 
 As down the road they pass’d — 
 
 Though we were first, says Bob, I’m cursed 
 If we shan’t be the last. 
 
 We shoved away behind. 
 
 And so did Bob’s fat mother — 
 
 But as fast as we could shove one way. 
 
 The hunter shoved the other. Tol lol, &c. 
 
 At last, cried Sam, *^I’ve got a plan!” 
 
 Then a bunch of carrots ties 
 To the end of a stick — an artful trick — 
 
 And fix’d ’em afore his eyes. 
 
 Away the hunter went 
 
 With his precious livin’ load. 
 
 When all at once the tail fell down, 
 
 And spilt us in the road. Tol lol, &c. 
 
 The women bawl’d — the babbies squall’d. 
 
 We book’d ourselves for dead — 
 
 Some were hurt, and choked with dirt. 
 
 And some pitch’d on their head. 
 
 The grub got spoilt, on which 
 Our hopes did so depend; 
 
 And the goosegog pie had all got jamm’d 
 By Bobby’s latter end. Tol lol, &c. 
 
 w. By the time we’d quite got o’er our fright, 
 
 The folks were coming back, — 
 
 So we got done out of our fun. 
 
 Through the precious lazy hack. 
 
 Next time we pleasuring went. 
 
 We swore with all our rage. 
 
 If we couldn’t get a better horse, 
 
 - We’d go by the Marrowbone stage. Tol lol, &c. 
 
 ^otl;am: at CDi^arUs Clark’s ^ribatc ^^rtss. 
 
5 
 
 Is there any good water for the horses here 
 *^No, sir, not any, nearer than the village there/^ 
 
 ‘^Then let the men cut some of that green corn ; 
 
 That will do instead of water till to-morrow morn. 
 
 Before the king of day cover’d himself over, 
 
 I saw through that hedge some corn, and clover: 
 
 Let some men per troop go with their swords. 
 
 And cut some down without any more words. 
 
 Here is a farm-house, too, close by this place. 
 
 Perhaps some milk may be gotten for our race ; 
 
 Let a dozen men go with their canteens. 
 
 Those exceeding fine men now in their teens. 
 
 Is the moon asleep, or is it under ground ? 
 
 It is now 80 very dark one cannot look around. 
 
 The moon is not asleep, but cover’d over in bed. 
 
 With black cloudy curtains close round its sickly head ; 
 Those curtains' God has drawn to show his power. 
 
 To let us sinners know that he can us devour. 
 
 One curtain is so black too, in the element so high. 
 
 To hide the light from us, to make our hearts sigh. 
 
 To make us all wet too, the black border he now wrings. 
 It begins to drop a good pace, to wet all our things. 
 
 Go, «end the officers commanding troops to me. 
 
 They must come quickly, them I want to see, 
 
 To receive my orders, and to execute them to-night. 
 
 That all may be ready to-morrow morning to fight. 
 Gentlemen, have you gotten some good green corn and 
 clover?” 
 
 ‘^Yes, but the farmers all of them came over.” 
 
 ‘^My orders were positive to cut it instantly down.” 
 
 ‘‘It is all cut off, sir, from where it was sown.” 
 
 “An order to the Commissary I will quickly give. 
 
 To pay the value of it, that every farmer may live. 
 
 Each man must lie down in the front of his horse, 
 
 And mount in an instant, should there be any cause. 
 
 The men may light fires too, if wood can be gotten. 
 
 There is a little close by, and it is very rotten. 
 
 Gentlemen, depart, and attend to your troops, — 
 
 O ! the men must eat their victuals without any roots.” 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 Twelve o’clock in the night, all perfectly quiet, 
 Sentinels close together, talking about fowl diet. 
 
 The French sentinel began to prate to the English loud, — 
 He said, “I have good gin to help to carry my load.