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Parson 's a bean loikewoise, an' a sittin' Moast loike a butter-bump, fur I 'eard o' my bed.

’um about an' about, "The Amoighty's a taakin o'you to But I stubb'd 'um oop wi’ the lot, an' 'issén, my friend,” a said,

raaved an' rembled 'um out. An' a towd ma my sins, an' 's toithe were due, an' I gied it in hond;

Keaper's it wur; fo' they fun 'um theer I done moy duty boy 'um, as I 'a done

a-laaid of 'is faace boy the lond.

Down i' the woild 'enemies 2 afoor I

coom'd to the plaace. Larn’d a ma' bea. I reckons I 'annot Noaks or Thimbleby -- toaner 3 'ed shot sa mooch to larn.

'um as dead as a naail. But a cast oop, thot a did, 'bout Bessy Noaks wur 'ang'd for it oop at 'soize Marris's barne.

but git ma my aale. Thaw a knaws I hallus voated wi' Squoire an' choorch an' staate,

Dubbut looök at the waaste; theer warn't An' i' the woost o' toimes I wur niver

not feead for a cow; agin the raate.

Nowt at all but bracken an' fuzz, an'

loook at it now An' I hallus coom'd to 's choorch afoor Warn't worth nowt a haacre, an' now moy Sally wur dead,

theer's lots o' feead, An' 'eard ’um a bummin' awaay loike a Fourscoor yows 4 upon it, an' some on it buzzard-clock ? ower my 'ead,

down i' seead. 5 An' I niver knaw'd whot a mean'd but I thowt a 'ad summut to saay,

Nobbut a bit on it 's left, an' I mean'd to An' I thowt a said whot a owt to 'a said,

'a stubb'd it at fall, an' I coom'd awaay.

Done it ta-year I mean'd, an' runn'd plow

thruff it an' all, Bessy Marris's barne! tha knaws she If Godamoighty an' parson 'ud nobbut let laaid it to mea.

ma aloan, Mowt a bean, mayhap, for she wur a Mea, wi' haate hoonderd haacre o' bad un, shea.

Squoire's, an lond o' my oan. 'Siver, I kep 'um, I kep 'um, my lass, tha mun understond;

Do Godamoighty knaw what a's doing I done moy duty boy 'um, as I 'a done

a-taakin' o' mea ? boy the lond.

I beant wonn as saws 'ere a bean an yon



der a pea;

But Parson a cooms an’ a goas, an'a

says it easy an’ freea : “The Amoighty 's a taakin o' you to

'issén, my friend," says 'ea. I weant saay men be loiars, thaw sum

mun said it in 'aaste; But 'e reads wonn sarmin a weeak, an' I

'a stubb'd Thurnaby waaste.

An' Squoire 'ull be sa mad an' all — a'

dear, a' dear! And I 'a managed for Squoire coom

Michaelmas thutty year.


D' ya moind the waaste, my


naw, naw, tha was not born then ; Theer wur a boggle in it, I often 'eard

'um mysén; ou as in hour. (The notes on this poem are Tennyson's.)

A mowt 'a taaen owd Joanes, as ’ant not

a 'aapoth o' sense, Or a mowt a' taaen young Robins

niver mended a fence; But Godamoighty a moost taake a mea an'

taake ma now, Wi' aaf the cows to cauve an' Thurnaby

hoalms to plow ! 1 Bittern.

* Ou as in hour, 2 Anemones.

2 Cockchafer,

5 Clover 3 One or other.



a niver

Looök ’ow quoloty smoiles when they “Spanish ships of war at sea! we have seeas ma a passin' boy,

sighted fifty-three !" Says to thessén, naw doubt, "What a Then

Lord Thomas Howard : man a bea sewer-loy !" ”

“ 'Fore God I am no coward; Fur they knaws what I bean to Squoire But I cannot meet them here, for my sin' fust a coom'd to the 'All;

ships are out of gear, I done moy duty by Squoire and I done And the half my men are sick. I must moy duty boy hall.

fly, but follow quick.

We are six ships of the line; can we fight Squoire 's i’ Lunnon, an' summun I reckons with fifty-three?"

'ull 'a to wroite, For whoa 's to howd the lond ater mea

II thot muddles ma quoit; Sartin-sewer I bea thot a weant niver

Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: “I give it to Joanes,

know you are no coward; Naw, nor a moant to Robins

You fly them for a moment to fight with rembles the stoans.

them again.

But I've ninety men and more that are But summun 'ull come ater mea mayhap

lying sick ashore. wi' 'is kittle o' steam

I should count myself the coward if I Huzzin' an' maazin' the blessed fealds

left them, my Lord Howard, wi’ the divil's oan team.

To these Inquisition dogs and the devilSin' I mun doy I mun doy, thaw loife I

doms of Spain." they says is sweet, But sin' I mun doy I mun doy, for I

III couldn abear to see it.

So Lord Howard past away with five What atta stannin' theer fur, an' doesn ships of war that day, bring ma the aale?

Till he melted like a cloud in the silent Doctor 's a 'toattler, lass, an a's hallus i'

summer heaven; the owd taale;

But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick I weant break rules fur Doctor, a knaws

men from the land naw moor nor a floy;

Very carefully and slow, Git ma my aale, I tell tha, an' if I mun Men of Bideford in Devon, doy I mun doy.

And we laid them on the ballast down

below: FLOWER IN THE CRANNIED WALL For we brought them all aboard, Flower in the crannied wall,

And they blest him in their pain, that I pluck you out of the crannies,

they were not left to Spain, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,

To the thumb-screw and the stake, for Little flower but if I could understand

the glory of the Lord. What you are, root and all, and all in all, I should know what God and man is.


He had only a hundred seamen to work THE REVENGE

the ship and to fight A BALLAD OF THE FLEET

And he sailed away from Flores till the

Spaniard came in sight,

With his huge sea-castles heaving upon At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard

the weather bow. Grenville lay,

“Shall we fight or shall we fly? And a pinnace, like a flutter'd bird, came Good Sir Richard, tell us now, flying from far away;

For to fight is but to die !

There'll be little of us left by the time And the rest they came aboard us, and this sun be set."

they fought us hand to hand, And Sir Richard said again: “We be all For a dozen times they came with their good English men.

pikes and musqueteers, Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the And a dozen times we shook 'em off as a children of the devil,

dog that shakes his ears For I never turn'd my back

When he leaps from the water to the land.

upon Don or

devil yet.”

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And the sun went down, and the stars

came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the fight of

the one and the fifty-three. Ship after ship, the whole night long, their

high-built galleons came, Ship after ship, the whole night long,

with her battle-thunder and flame; Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew

back with her dead and her shame. For some were sunk and many were

shatter'd, and so could fight us no




God of battles, was ever a battle like Thousands of their soldiers look'd down

this in the world before? from their decks and laugh'd, Thousands of their seamen made mock

X at the mad little craft Running on and on, till delay'd

For he said, "Fight on! fight on!” By their mountain-like San Philip that, Tho' his vessel was all but a wreck; of fifteen hundred tons,

And it chanced that, when half of the And up-shadowing high above us with

short summer night was gone, her yawning tiers of guns,

With a grisly wound to be drest he had Took the breath from our sails, and we

left the deck,

But a bullet struck him that was dressstay’d.

ing it suddenly dead,

And himself he was wounded again in And while now the great San Philip hung

the side and the head, above us like a cloud

And he said, “Fight on! fight on!”
Whence the thunderbolt will fall

Long and loud,
Four galleons drew away

And the night went down, and the sun From the Spanish fleet that day,

smiled out far over the summer sea, And two upon the larboard and two upon And the Spanish fleet with broken sides the starboard lay,

lay round us all in a ring; And the battle-thunder broke from them But they dared not touch us again, for all.

they fear'd that we still could

sting, VIII

So they watch'd what the end would be. But anon the great San Philip, she be- And we had not fought them in vain, thought herself and went,

But in perilous plight were we, Having that within her womb that had Seeing forty of our poor hundred were left her ill content;


And half of the rest of us maim'd for life

XIV In the crash of the cannonades and the

And they stared at the dead that had desperate strife;

been so valiant and true, And the sick men down in the hold were

And had holden the power and glory of most of them stark and cold,

Spain so cheap And the pikes were all broken or bent,

That he dared her with one little ship and the powder was all of it spent;

and his English few; And the masts and the rigging were lying

Was he devil or man? He was devil for over the side;

aught they knew, But Sir Richard cried in his English pride:

But they sank his body with honour down "We have fought such a fight for a day into the deep. and a night

And they mann'd the Revenge with a As may never be fought again!

swarthier alien crew, We have won great glory, my men And away she sail'd with her loss and And a day less or more

long'd for her own; At sea or ashore,

When a wind from the lands they had We die — does it matter when ?

ruin'd awoke from sleep, Sink me the ship, Master Gunner sink

And the water began to heave and the her, split her in twain !

weather to moan, Fall into the hands of God, not into the

And or ever that evening ended a great hands of Spain !”

gale blew,

And a wave like the wave that is raised XII

by an earthquake grew,

Till it smote on their hulls and their sails And the gunner said, “Ay, ay," but the

and their masts and their flags, seamen made reply:

And the whole sea plunged and fell on “We have children, we have wives,

the shot-shatter'd navy of Spain, And the Lord hath spared our lives.

And the little Revenge herself went down We will make the Spaniard promise, if

by the island crags we yield, to let us go;

To be lost evermore in the main. We shall live to fight again and to strike another blow."

CROSSING THE BAR And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe.

SUNSET and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar, XIII

When I put out to sea, And the stately Spanish men to their But such a tide as moving seems asleep, flagship bore him then,

Too full for sound and foam, Where they laid him by the mast, old When that which drew from out the Sir Richard caught at last,

boundless deep And they praised him to his face with

Turns again home. their courtly foreign grace; But he rose upon their decks,' and he Twilight and evening bell, cried :

And after that the dark ! "I have fought for Queen and Faith like

And may there be no sadness of farewell, a valiant man and true;

When I embark; I have only done my duty as a man is For tho' from out our bourne of Time bound to do.

and Place With a joyful spirit I Sir Richard Gren- The flood may bear me far, ville die!”

I hope to see my Pilot face to face And he fell upon their decks, and he died, When I have crossed the bar.



Cavaliers, up! Lips from the cup,
Hands from the pasty, nor bite take nor

sup Till you're CHORUS. - Marching along, fifty-score

strong, Great-hearted gentlemen,

singing this song

Faster and more fast,
O'er night's brim, day boils at last :
Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud-cup's

Where spurting and suppressed it lay,
For not a froth-flake touched the rim
Of yonder gap in the solid gray
Of the eastern cloud,

an hour

away ; But forth one wavelet, then another,

curled, Till the whole sunrise, not to be sup

pressed, Rose, reddened, and its seething breast Flickered in bounds, grew gold, then over

flowed the world.

Hampden to hell, and his obsequies'

knell. Serve Hazelrig, Fiennes, and young Harry

as well! England, good cheer! Rupert is near! Kentish and loyalists, keep we not here, CHORUS. - Marching along, fifty-score

strong, Great-hearted gentlemen,

singing this song?



The year's at the spring
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hillside's dew-pearled;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn :
God's in his heaven
All's right with the world!

Then, God for King Charles! Pym and

his snarls To the Devil that pricks on such pestilent

carles ! Hold by the right, you double your might; So, onward to Nottingham, fresh for the

fight, CHORUS. - March we along, fifty-score

strong, Great-hearted

gentlemen, singing this song!




KENTISH Sir Byng stood for his King, Bidding the crop-headed Parliament

swing: And, pressing a troop unable to stoop And see the rogues flourish and honest

folk droop, Marched them along, fifty-score strong, Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this


King Charles, and who'll do him right

now? King Charles, and who's ripe for fight

now? Give a rouse: here's, in hell's despite

now, King Charles ! Who gave me the goods that went since? Who raised me the house that sank once? Who helped me to gold I spent since? Who found me in wine you drank once? CHORUS. – King Charles, and who'll do

him right now? King Charles, and who's ripe

for fight now? Give a rouse: here's, in hell's

despite now, King Charles !

God for King Charles! Pym and such

carles To the Devil that prompts 'em their

treasonous parles !

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