Chapter 9
Songs
p. 301-330
Full text
In spite of considerable losses of material in manuscripts and early prints, a surprisingly large number of early songs and lyrics have survived. The corpus must have been a very substantial one. And behind and beside it lay another: an equally large mass of oral songs, now almost totally lost to us, but which lived in the memories of contemporary literate poets. The heads of some clerks were probably filled with snatches of old songs, remembered from younger days or still heard in the communities in which they lived. They will sometimes refer to such songs in their sophisticated works: Chaucer makes his Pardoner sing ‘Come hider, love, to me’;1 Gavin Douglas quotes (among other examples) ‘the schip salis our the salt fame, Will bring thir merchandis and my lemman hame’.2 And, as we have already seen in the pages of this anthology, other ‘snatches’ are sometimes quoted by (usually hostile) preachers and moralists. A number are quoted below. Such snatches are probably the closest we can come to the lost corpus of early oral song. But many of the lyrics printed below are the work of clerks related in various degrees to the tradition of oral song. Some of these ‘popular lyrics’ are (as Greene described them, see below) popular ‘by destination’, intended for the use of an illiterate or partly-literate audience. The literary skill of the clerks and the quality of their imitations of the simple styles and forms of oral songs often make it very difficult to decide whether a lyric should be described as ‘popular’ or ‘learned’ and, if we decide to place it in the category of popular lyric (a category whose boundaries are not absolutely fixed), how closely it approximates to the oral song from which it came. Thus Greene,3 discussing the plough song (xiii), records numerous parallels in later folksong, but points out that the carol is ‘intended for more sophisticated performance, probably by choirboys’, and concludes cautiously that ‘it is conceivable that a carol on this theme may be the result of a learned clerical composer’s interest in an air heard in the fields.’ Similarly, in the fine drinking song ‘Bryng us in good ale’ (xvi) he notes the ‘repeated formula with a portion changed with each repetition, an old device used by very elementary folk-poetry’ — and which allows improvisation.4 However, the repetition is quite artful, with the rejected items of food becoming a splendidly bizarre ensemble, and the accompanying (apparently explanatory) ‘asides’ are sometimes wonderfully fantastic. Could it be a clever imitation, and transformation, of the techniques of oral folk-poetry? ‘Performance’ seems to lie behind almost all the popular lyrics. Some of them are clearly dance songs; in nearly all of them we seem to hear the voice of the singer. They survive in a variety of forms. Perhaps the most distinctive is the ‘carol’, not yet limited to Christmas songs. The name derives from the French ‘carole’, a ring-dance, and the ideas of performance and entertainment continue to lurk even in the more sophisticated and literary examples. Characteristically the Middle English carol is a stanzaic poem, secular or religious, marked by a recurring ‘burden’ or refrain. Other forms of song are also found, and we see brief glimpses of sharp satire, and examples of popular talk (like the ducks that ‘slobber in the mere’, in xvi below), double entendre, and some entertaining rascals. But in general the popular lyric presents us with a rich and varied array of merry entertainment. Our selection attempts to give a sense of this. After a ‘welcome song’ delivered by a minstrel or a master of ceremonies, we move to a series of snatches of oral songs, then to the merriment of the festal season and throughout the year, and to various contemporary figures, pedlars ‘light of foot’, roving bachelors and an amorous priest, encounters between men and women; to some songs which seem to hover between children’s songs and erotic lyric, and to merry nonsense verse. We end with some religious popular lyrics, some of which show the same zest and merriment as their secular counterparts.
Snatches of Oral Songs
i)5
| Bon jowre, bon jowre a vous! º I am cum unto this hows With ‘par la pompe’, º I say. |
good day to you with ceremony |
|
| Is ther any good man here That will make me any chere?º And if ther were, I wold cum nere To witº what he woldº say. A, will ye be wild?º By Mary myld, And her swete child, I trow ye will synge gay.º Bon jowre… |
entertainment know hard to catch merrily |
would |
| Be gladly, º masters everychon! I am cum myself alone To apposeº you onº by on; Let se who dare say nay Sir, what say ye? Syng on, let us see. Now will it be Thys or another day? Bon jowre… |
joyful question |
one |
| Loo, this is he that will do the dede! He temperethº his mowthº — therefore take hede. Syng softe, I say, lest yowr nose blede, For hurt yowrself ye may. |
tunes | voice |
| But, by God that me bowght, º Your brest is so towght, º Tyll ye have well cowghtº Ye may not therwith away.º Bon jowre… |
redeemed congested coughed do away with it |
|
| Sir, what say ye with your face so lene? Ye syng nother good tenowre, treble, ne mene.º |
nor mean6 | |
| Utter not your voice withoutº your brest be clene, º Hartely I you pray. I hold you excused, Ye shall be refused, |
unless | clear |
| For ye have not beº used To no good sport nor play. Bon jowre… |
been | |
| Sir, what say ye with your fat face? | ||
| Me thynkith ye shuld bere a very good bace.º To a pot of good ale or ipocras, º Truly as I you say. Hold up your hede, |
maintain bass sweet spiced wine |
|
| Ye loke lyke lede, º Ye wast mycheº bred Evermore from day to day. Bon jowre… |
lead waste much |
|
| Now will ye see wher he stondith behynde? Iwis, º brother, ye be unkind; Stond forth, and wast with me som wyndº |
indeed breath |
| For ye have ben called a synger ay.º Nay, be not ashamed — Ye shall not be blamed, For ye have ben famed The worst in this contrey. Bon jowre… |
always |
ii)7
| Of every kuneº tre, Of every kune tre, The hawethorn blowet suotes [t] º Of every kune tre |
kind (of) blossoms most sweetly |
| My lemmonº she shal boe, º My lemmon she shal boe, The fairest of e [very] kinne, My lemmon she shal boe. |
lover be |
iii)8
| Al nistº by the rose, rose | night |
| Al nist bi the rose I lay, Dar [st] º ich noust the rose stele, Ant yet ich bar the flourº away. |
dared I took the flower (= maidenhood) |
iv)9
Mayden in the mor lay,
In the mor lay,
| Sevenystº fulle, sevenist fulle. Maiden in the mor lay, In the mor lay, Sevenistes fulle ant a day. |
seven nights | |
| Welleº was hire mete, º Wat was hire mete? The primeroleº ant the, The primerole ant the, Welle was hire mete, Wat was hire mete? The primerole Ant the violet. |
excellent primrose |
food |
| Welle was hire dryng, º Wat was hire dryng? The cheldeº water of the, The chelde water of the, Welle was hire dryng, Wat was hire dryng? The chelde water of the, Of the welle-spring. |
drink cold |
|
| Welle was hire bour, º Wat was hire bour? The rede rose an te, º The rede rose an te, Welle was hire bour, Wat was hire bour? The rede rose an te, The rede rose an te An te lilie flour. |
dwelling the |
v)10
| Ich am of Irlaunde And of the holy londe Of Irlande. Gode sire, pray ich the, For of saynte charite, º Come and daunce wyt me In Irlaunde. |
holy charity |
vi)11
| Me thingkitº thou art so lovely, So fair and so swete, That sikirliº it were mi detº Thi companie to lete.º |
seems certainly give up |
death |
vii)12
| Westron wynde when wyll thow blow? The smalleº rayne downe canº rayne. Cryst, yf my love wer in my armes And I in my bed agayne! |
fine | does |
viii)13
| Sing, cuccu nu! Sing cuccu! Sing, cuccu! Sing, cuccu nu! Somer is ycumen in, Lhudeº sing, cuccu! |
loudly |
| Groweth sed and blowethº medº And springth the wodeº nu. Sing, cuccu! |
blossoms wood |
meadow |
| Aweº bleteth after lomb, Lhouthº after calveº cu, Bulluc sterteth, º bucke vertethº Murye sing, cuccu! Cuccu, cuccu, Wel singes thu, cuccu, |
ewe lows leaps |
calf farts |
| Ne swik thu naverº nu! | do not ever cease |
Christmas and New Year
ix)14
| Make we mery both more and lasseº For now ys the tyme of Crystymas. |
high and low | |
| Lett no man cum into this hall — Grome, º page, nor yet marshall, º But that sum sport he bring with all, For now ys the tyme of Crystmas. Make we mery… |
servant | steward |
| Yff that he say he can not syng, Sum oder sport then lett hym bring, That yt may please at thys festyng, For now ys the tyme of Crystmas. Make we mery… |
||
| Yff he say he can nowght do, Then for my love aske hym no mo — But to the stokesº then let hym go, |
stocks |
For now ys the tyme of Crystmas. Make we mery…
x) The Boar’s Head15
| Po, po, po, po, º Love braneº and so do mo.º |
(a barnyard call for pigs) brawn more |
| At the begynnyng of the mete Of a borys hed ye schal hete, º And in the mustard ye shal wete, º And ye shal syngyn or ye gon. Po, po… |
eat dip |
| Wolcum be ye that ben here, And ye shal have ryth gud chere, And also a ryth gud fare, And ye shal syngyn or ye gon. Po, po… |
|
| Welcum be ye everychon, For ye shal syngyn ryth anon; Hey yow fast, that ye had don, And ye shal syngyn or ye gon. Po, po… |
xi) The Holly and the Ivy16
Nay, nay, Ive,
It may not be, iwis,
For Holy must have the mastry,
As the maner is.
| Holy berith beris, beris rede ynowgh; º The thristilcok, º the popyngay, º daunce in every bow, |
very cock thrush |
parrot |
| Welaway, sory Ivy, what fowles hast thow But the sory howlet, º that syngith, ‘How, how.’ Nay, nay… |
owl | |
| Ivy berith beris as black as any slo; Ther commeth the woode-colverº and fedith her of tho, º |
wood-pigeon | those |
| She liftith up her tayll and she cakesº orº she go — She wold not for hundred poundes serve Holy soo. Nay, nay… |
craps | before |
| Holy and his mery men, they can daunce in hall, Ivy and her jentyll women can not daunce at all, But lyke a meyny of bullokkes in a waterfall, Or on a whotº somers day, whan they be mad all. Nay, nay… |
hot | |
| Holy and his mery men sytt in cheyres of gold; Ivy and her jentyll women sytt withowtº in fold, º With a payre of kybidº helis cawght with cold — So wold I that every man had that with Yvy will hold. Nay, nay… |
outside chilblained |
on the ground |
xii)17
What cher? Gud cher, gud cher, gud cher!
Be mery and glad this gud New Yere.
‘Lyft up your hartes and be glad
In Crystes byrth’, the angell bad;
| Say eche to oder for hys sake, ‘What cher?’ What cher… |
|
| I tell you all with hart so fre, Ryght welcum ye be to me, Be glad and mery, for charite — What cher? What cher… |
|
| The gudman of this place in fereº You to be mery he prayth you here, And with gud hert he doth to you say, What cher? What cher… |
in company, together |
Merriment, of various kinds, throughout the Year
xiii) God speed the Plough18
| The merthe of alle this londe Maketh the gode husbondeº With eryngeº of his plowe. |
farmer ploughing |
| Iblessyd be Cristes sondeº That hath us sent in honde Merthe and joye ynowe.º The merthe… |
grace in plenty, much |
| The plowe goth mony a gateº Both erly and late, In winter in the clay. The merthe… |
path |
| Abowte barley and whete, That maketh men to swete, º |
sweat |
| God spede the plowe alº day. The merthe… |
every |
| Browne Morel and Goreº Drawen the plowe ful soreº Al in the morwenynge. The merthe… |
names of the horses (or oxen) laboriously |
| Rewarde hem therefore With a shefeº or more Alle in the evenynge. The merthe… |
sheaf |
| Whan men bygynne to sowe, Ful wel here corne they knoweº In the mounthe of May. The merthe… |
judge |
| Howe ever Janyverº blowe, Whether hye or lowe, God spede the plowe allway! The merthe… |
January |
| Whan men begynneth to wedeº The thystle fro the sede, In somer whan they may. The merthe… |
weed |
| God leteº hem wel to spedeº And longe gode lyfe to lede, All that for plowemen pray. The merthe… |
grant prosper |
xiv)19
| We ben chapmenº light of fote, The fowle weyis for to fle, |
pedlars | |
| We berynº abowtyn non cattes skynnys, Pursis, perlis, º sylver pynnis Smale wympelesº for ladyis chynnys; Damsele, beyº sum ware of me. We ben… |
carry pearls elegant head-dress buy |
|
| I have a poket for the nonys, º Therine ben tweyneº precious stonys; Damsele, hadde ye asayid hem onys; Ye shuld the rathereº gon with me. We ben… |
for the occasion two sooner |
|
| I have a jelyfº of Godes sonde, º Withoutyn fytº it can stonde; It can smytyn and haght non honde; º Rydº yourself quat it may be. We ben… |
jelly feet hath no hand guess |
grace |
| I have a powder for to selle, Quat it is can I not telle — It makit maydenys wombys to swelle; Therof I have a quantyte. We ben… |
Drinking Songs
xv)20
| How, º butler, how! Bevis a towt! º hey! Fill the boll, jentill butler, and let the cup rowght! º |
drink to all! go round |
| Jentill butler, bell amy, º Fyll the boll by the eye, º That we may drink by and by.º With how, butler, how! Bevis a towt! Fill the boll, butler, and let the cup rowght! |
fine friend to the brim one and all |
| Here is meteº for us all, Both for gret and for small — I trowº we must the butler call, With how, butler, how! Bevis a towt! Fill the boll, butler, and let the cupe rowght! |
food believe |
| I am so dry I cannot spek, º I am nere choked with my meteº — I trow the butler be aslepe. With how, butler, how! Bevis a towght! Fill the boll, butler, and let the cup rowght! |
speak food |
| Butler, butler, fill the boll, Or elles I beshreweº thy noll! º I trow we must the bell toll.º With how, butler, how! Bevis a towght! Fill the boll, butler, and let the cup rowght! |
curse head ring |
| Iff the butlers name be Water, º I wold he were a galow-claper, º |
Walter (apparently so pronounced) gallows-bird |
| But ifº he bryng us drynk the rather.º With how, butler, how! Bevis a towght! Fill the boll, butler, and let the cup rowght! |
unless | sooner |
xvi)21
| Bryng us in good ale, and bryng us in good ale, Fore owr blyssyd lady sak, bryng us in good ale. |
|
| Bryng us in no browne bred, fore that is mad of brane, º Nor bring us in no whyt bred, fore therin is no game, º But bryng us in good ale. Bryng us… |
bran pleasure |
| Bryng us in no befe, º for ther is many bonys, But bryng us in good ale, for that goth downe at onys, And bryng us in good ale. Bryng us… |
beef |
| Bryng us in no bacon, for that is passing fate, º But brynge us in god ale, and gyfe us inoughtº of that, And bryng us in good ale. Bryng us… |
fat plenty |
| Bryng us in no mutton, for that is often lene, Nor bryng us in no trypys, for thei be syldom clene, But bryng us in good ale. Bryng us… |
|
| Bryng us in no eggys, for ther ar many schelles, But bryng us in good ale, and gyfe us nothyng ellys, And bryng us in good ale. Bryng us… |
| Bryng us in no butter, for therin ar many herys, º Nor bryng us in no pygges flesch, for that wyl mak us borys, But bryng us in good ale. Bryng us… |
hairs |
| Bryng us in no podynges, º for therin is al gotesº blod. | black pudding | goats’ |
Nor bring us in no veneson, for that is not for our gode,
But bring us in good ale.
Bryng us…
Bryng us in no capons flesch, for that is often der,
| Nor bring us in no dokesº flesch, for thei slober in the mer, º But bring us in good ale. Bryng us… |
ducks’ | pond |
Amorous Encounters; Men and Women
xvii)22
| Hey, noyney! I wyll love our Ser John Andº I love eny. |
if |
| O Lord, so swettº Ser John dothe kys At every tyme when he wolde pley; Off hymselfe so plesant he ys, I have no powre to say hym nay. Hey, noyney… |
sweetly |
| Ser John love [s] me and I love hym, The more I love hym the more I maye, |
| He says, ‘swett hart, cum kys me trym.’º I have no powre to say hym nay. Hey, noyney… |
nicely | |
| Ser John to me is proferyng For hys pleasure right well to pay, And in my box he puttes hys offryng — I have no powre to say hym nay. Hey, noyney… |
||
| Ser John ys taken in my mousetrappe; Fayne wold I have hemº bothe nyght and day; He gropith so nyslye abought my lape, I have no po [w] re to say hym nay. Hey, noyney… |
him | |
| Ser John gevyth me relyusº rynges With pratyº pleasure for to assay, º Furres off the finest with othyr thynges — I have no powre to say hym nay. Hey, noyney… |
glittering sweet |
try |
xviii)23
| How, hey! It is non les: º I dar not seyn quan che seygh ‘Pes!’º |
lie speak when she says peace! (be quiet!) |
| Yyngº men, I warne you everychon, Eldeº wy [v] ys tak ye non, For I myself [at hom have on] — I dar not seyn quan che seyght, ‘Pes! ’ How, hey… |
young old |
| Quan I cum fro the plow at non, º In a reven dychº myn mete is don, º I dar not askyn our dame a sponº — I dar not seyn quan che seyght, ‘Pes! ’ How, hey… |
noon cracked dish spoon |
put |
| If I aske our dame bred, Che takyt a staf and brekitº myn hed And doth me rennynº under the ledº — I dar not seyn quan che seyght ‘Pes!’ How, hey… |
breaks run |
cauldron |
| If I aske our dame fleych, º Che brekit myn hed with a dych, ‘Boy, thou art not worght a reych!’º I dar not seyn quan che seyght ‘Pes!’ How, hey… |
meat worth a rush (= a th |
ing of no value) |
| Yf I aske our dame chese, ‘Boy, ’ che seyght, al at ese, º ‘Thou art not worght half a pese! ’º — I dar not seyn quan che seyght ‘Pes!’ How, hey… |
quite unmoved pea |
1xix)24
| Hogyn cam to bowersº dore, Hogyn cam to bowers dore, He tryld upon the pynº for love, Hum, ha, trill go bell, He tryld upon the pyn for love, Hum, ha, trill go bell. |
chamber rattled at the latch |
| Up she rose and let hym yn, Up she rose and let hym yn, She had a-wentº she had worshippedº all he [r] kyn, Hum, ha, trill go bell, She had a-went she had worshipped all her Hum, ha, trill go bell. |
thought kyn, |
honoured |
| When thei were to bed browght, When thei were to bed browght, The old chorle he cowld do nowght, º Hum, ha, trill go bell, The old chorle he cowld do nowght, Hum, ha, trill go bell. |
nothing | |
| ‘Go ye furth to yonder wyndow, Go ye furth to yonder wyndow, And I will cum to you withyn a throw’, º Hum, ha, trill go bell, ‘And I will cum to you withyn a throw.’ Hum, ha, trill go bell. |
while | |
| Whan she hym at the wyndow wyst, º Whan she hym at the wyndow wyst, She tornedº owt her ars and that he kyst, Hum, ha, trill go bell, She torned owt her ars and that he kyst, Hum, ha, trill go bell. |
knew put |
|
| ‘Ywys, º leman, º ye do me wrong, Ywys, leman, ye do me wrong, Or elles your breth ys wonder strong’, Hum, ha, trill go bell, ‘Or ells your breth ys wonder strong’, Hum, ha, trill go bell. |
indeed | sweetheart |
xx)25
| ‘Say me, viitº in the brom, º Teche ne wouº I sule donº That min hosebondeº Me lovien wolde.’º |
creature how husband should |
broom must act |
| ‘Holde thine tunkeº stille And haweº al thine wille.’ |
tongue have |
Miscellaneous Songs
xxi)26
| I have a gentil co [k], º Crowyt me [the] dayº He dothº me rysyn erly, My matyins for to say. |
cock daybreak causes |
|
| I have a gentil co [k], Comyn he is of gret; º His comb is of red [c] orel, º His tayil js of get.º |
distinguished family coral jet |
|
| I have a gentil co [k], Comyn he is of kynde; º His comb is of red corel, His tayl is of inde.º |
high lineage indigo |
|
| His legges ben of asor, º So geintil and so smale; º His sporesº arn of sylver qwytº Into the wortewale.º |
azure slender spurs roots |
shining silver |
| His ey [e] nº arn of cristal, Lokynº al in aumbyr; º And every nyght he perchitº hym In myn ladyis chaumbyr. |
eyes set perches |
amber |
xxii)27
| I have a newe gardyn, And neweº is begunne; Swychº another gardyn Know I not under sunne. |
newly such |
| In the myddis of my gardyn Is a peryrº set, And it wele non per bernº But a per jenet.º |
pear-tree bear early-ripening pear28 |
| The fairest mayde of this toun Preyid me For to gryffyn her a gryfº Of myn pery tre. |
insert a shoot, graft |
| Quan I hadde hem gryffidº Alle at her wille, º The wyn and the ale |
planted as she wished |
| Che dede in fille.º | she poured out |
| And I gryffid her Ryght up in her home; And be that day xx wowkesº It was qwyk in her womb. |
weeks |
| That day twelfus month That mayde I mette, Che seyd it was a per Robert, º But non per Jonet. |
‘Robert’ pear |
Nonsense Verse, sometimes used for satire, sometimes simply for enjoyment
xxiii)29
| Whan netilles in winter bere rosis rede, And thornys bere figges naturally, And bromesº bere appylles in every mede, º And lorellesº bere cheris in the croppisº so hie, And okysº bere dates so plentuosly, And lekesº geve hony in ther superfluens, º Than put in a woman your trust and confidens. |
brooms laurels oaks leeks |
meadow top branches superabundance |
| Whan whiting walk in forestes hartesº for to chase And heryngesº in parkys hornys boldly blowe, And flowndersº morehennesº in fennes embrace. And gornardesº shote grengeseº owt of a crossebowe, And rolyonsº ride in hunting the wolf to overthrowe, And sperlyngesº rone with speris in harness to defenceº Than put in a woman your trust and confidence. |
, herrings flounders gurnards smelts |
harts moor-hens goslings fish for protection. |
| Whan sparowys bild chirches and stepulles hie, And wrennes cary sakkes to the mylle, And curlews cary clothesº horsis for to drye, And se-mewes bryng butter to the market to sell, And wod-dowesº were wod-knyffesº theves to kyll, |
cloths wood-pigeon |
s hunting knives |
| And griffonsº to goslynges don obedience — Than put in a woman your trust and confidence. |
vultures | |
| Whan crabbis tak wodcokesº in forestes and parkes And haris ben taken with swetnes of snaylis, And [cammels in the ayer tak swalows and larkes], And myse mowe corn with wafeyyngº of ther taylis, Whan dukkes of the dunghill sekº the Blod of Hayles,30 Whan shrewdº wyffes to ther husbondes do non offens — Than put in a woman your trust and confidence. |
woodcocks waving seek shrewish |
2xxiv)30
| Hay, hey, hey, hey! I wyll have the whetston and I may.º |
if I can | |
| I sawe a doge sethyngº sowseº And an ape thechyngº an howse And a podyngº etyng a mowse; I will have the whetston and I may. Hey, hey… |
boiling thatching sausage |
pork for pickling |
| I sawe an urchinº shapeº and sewe And another bake and brewe, Scowre the pottes as they were newe; I will have the whetston and I may. Hey, hey… |
hedgehog | cut out cloth |
| I sawe a codfysshe corn sowe And a worm a whystyll blowe |
| And a pyeº tredyng a crow; I will have the whetston and I may. Hey, hey… |
magpie |
| I sawe a stokfyssheº drawing a harrow And another dryveyng a barrow And a saltfysshe shotyng an arrow; I will have the whetston and I may. Hey, hey… |
dried fish |
| I sawe a bore burdeyns bynd And a froge clewensº wynd And a tode mustard grynd; I will have the whetston and I may. Hey, hey… |
balls of yarn |
| I sawe a sowe bere kyrchers to wasshe, The second sowe had an hege to plasshe, º The thirde sowe went to the barn to thr [a] sshe; I will have the whetston and I may. Hey, hey… |
weave |
| I sawe an ege etyng a pye — Geve me drynke, my mowth ys drye, Ytt ys not long sythº I made a lye; I will have the whetston and I may. Hey, hey… |
since |
Religious Songs (a brief selection)
xxv)31
| Nou gothº sonne under wod, º | goes | wood |
| Me reweth, º Marie, thi faire rode.º | I pity | face |
Nou goth sonne under tre,
Me reweth, Marie, thi sone and the.
xxvi)32
| Adam lay ibowndyn, bowndyn in a bond, Fowre thousand winter thowt he not to long. |
||
| And al was for an appil, An appil that he tok, As clerkes fyndyn wretyn, wretyn in here bok |
||
| Ne hadde the appil take ben, the appil take ben, Ne hadde never our Lady aº ben hevene qwen. |
have | |
| Blyssid be the tyme that appil take was, Therfore we mownº syngyn ‘Deo gratias! ’º |
may | thanks be to God |
xxvii)33
| Levedie, I thonke the Widº herte suitheº milde That godº that thou havest idon me Wid thine suete childe, |
with good |
very |
| Thou ard god and suete and briht, Ofº alle otheir icoren; º Of the was that suete withº That was Jesus iboren.º |
above sweet creature born |
chosen |
| Maide milde, biddiº the Wid thine suete childe That thou er [e] ndieº me |
I pray intercede for |
| To habben Godis milce.º | mercy |
| Moder, [thou] loke one me Wid thine suete eye; Rest and blisse [gef] thou me, Mi levedi, thenº ic deye. |
when |
xxviii)34
Can I not syng but ‘hoy’,
Whan the joly shepherd made so mych joy.
| The sheperd upon a hill he satt, He had on hym his tabardº and his hat, Hys tarbox, hys pype, and hys flagat; º Hys name was called Joly, Joly Wat, For he was a gud herdesº boy. [W] ith hoy! For in hys pype he made so mych joy. Can I not syng… |
cloak flask shepherds’ |
| The sheperd upon a hill was layd, Hys dogeº to hys gyrdyll was tayd, º |
dog tied |
| He had not slept but a lytill br [a] ydº But ‘Gloria in excelsis’º was to hym sayd. For he was a gud herdes boy, With hoy! For in his pype he mad so mych joy. Can I not syng… |
while Glory in the Highest |
| The sheperd on a hill he stode; Rownd abowt hym his shepe they yode; º He put hys hond under hys hode; º |
went hood |
| He saw a star as rede as blod. For he was a gud herdes boy, With hoy! For in his pype he mad so mych joy. Can I not syng… |
|
| ‘Now farwell Mall, and also Will; For my love go ye all styllº Untoº I cum agayn you till, º And evermore, Will, ryng well thy bell.’ For he was a gud herdes boy, With hoy! For in his pipe he made so mych joy. Can I not syng… |
quietly until back to you |
| ‘Now must I go therº Cryst was borne; Farwell, I cum agayn tomorn; Dog, kepe well my shepe fro the corn, And warn well, Warroke, º when I blow my horn.’ For he was a gud herdes boy, With hoy! For in his pype he made so mych joy. Can I not syng… |
where Wat’s dog, or his ‘boy’35 |
| The sheperd sayd anon right, º ‘I will go se yon farlyº syght, Wheras the angell syngith on hight, º And the star that shynyth so bright, ’ For he was a gud herdes boy, With hoy! For in his pipe he made so mych joy. Can I not syng… |
immediately wondrous loudly |
| Whan Wat to Bedlemº cum was, He swetº — he had gon faster than a pace.º He fownd Jesu in a sympill place Between an ox and an asse. For he was a gud herdes boy, With hoy! For in his pipe he mad so mych joy. Can I not syng… |
Bethlehem was sweating |
walking-pace |
| ‘Jesu, I offer to the here my pype, My skyrte, º my tarbox, and my scrype; º Home to my felowes now will I skype, º And also loke untoº my shepe.’ For he was a gud herdes boy, With hoy! For in his pipe he mad so mych joy. Can I not syng… |
kilt hasten see to |
bag |
| ‘Now, farewell, myne own herdsman Wat, ’ ‘Ye, for God, lady, even so I hat.º Lull well Jesu in thy lape And farewell, Joseph, wyth thy rownd cape.’º For he was a gud herdes boy, With hoy! For in hys pipe he mad so mych joy. Can I not syng… |
am called round cap |
|
| ‘Now may I well both hopeº and syng, For I have bene a Crystes beryng.º Home to my felowes now wyll I flyng.º Cryst of hevyn to his blis us bryng!’ For he was a gud herdes boy, With hoy! For in his pipe he mad so myche joy. Can I not syng… |
dance birth hurry |
xxix)36
| ‘Lullay, myn lykyng, º my dere sone, myn swetyng, Lullay, my dere herte, myn owyn dere derlyng.’ |
beloved |
| I saw a fayr maydyn syttyn and synge; Sche lullyd a lytyl chyld, a swete lording.º Lulllay myn lykyng… |
lord |
| That echeº Lord is that that made alle thinge; Of alle lordis he is Lord, of all kynges Kyng. Lullay, myn lykyng… |
same |
| Ther was mekylº melody at that chyldes berthe; Alle thoº that wern in hevene blys, they made mekyl merth. Lullay, myn lykyng… |
great those |
| Aungele [s] bright, thei song that nyght and seydyn to that chyld, ‘Blyssid be thou, and so be sche that is bothe mek and myld.’ Lullay, myn lykyng… |
|
| Prey we now to that chyld, and to his moder dere, Grawnt hem his blyssyng that now makyn chere, º Lullay, myn lykyng… . |
joy |
xxx)37
| Mery hyt ys in May morning Mery wayys for to gone, |
|
| And by a chapel as y came, Mett y wythe Jesu to chyrchewardº gone, Petur and Pawle, Thomas and Jhon, |
towards church |
| And hys desyplysº everychone.º Mery hyt ys… . |
disciples | every one |
| Sente Thomas the bellys ganeº ryng, And Sent Collasº the Mas gane syng; Sente Jhon toke that swete offering, And by a chapell as y came. Mery hyt ys… |
did Nicholas |
|
| Owre Lorde offeryd whate he wollde, º A challesº off ryche rede gollde, Owre Lady the crowne off hyr mowldeº — The sonº owte off hyr bosom schone. Mery hyt ys… |
wished chalice from her head sun |
|
| Sent Jorge, that ys owre Lady knyghte, He tende the tapyrysº fayre and bryte, To myn ygheº a semley syghte — And by a chapell as y came. Mery hyt ys… |
lit the tapers eyes |
Footnotes
1 Tales, 1A (Prologue), v. 672.
2 In the Prologue to the 12th book of his translation of Virgil’s Aeneid.
3 Early English Carols, 1977 (revised) edition. The Plough Song is no. 418.2 (pp. 248–9), notes pp. 464–5.
4 Gray cites this in Simple Forms (p. 223), giving a reference to Early English Carols p. cxx; the comment is not in Greene’s notes to the song.
5 In The Oxford Book of Medieval Verse, no. 259. Normally, only one reference is given for each poem.
6 Mean would be a middle line in the part-song.
7 Ibid. no. 66.
8 In Medieval English Lyrics, ed. Silverstein, no. 61.
9 Ibid. no. 62.
10 Ibid. no. 60.
11 Ibid. no. 63.
12 Medieval English Lyrics, ed. Davies, no. 181.
13 Ibid. no. 3.
14 Ibid. no. 168.
15 IMEV 436, from Wright, Songs and Carols (song 38, pp. 42–3); also in Early English Carols, ed. Greene, no. 134.
16 In Medieval English Lyrics, ed. Davies, no. 171.
17 Ibid. no. 177.
18 In The Oxford Book of Medieval English Verse, no. 152.
19 IMEV 3864; also in Greene’s Early English Carols, no. 416.
20 In The Oxford Book of Medieval English Verse, no. 260.
21 In Medieval English Lyrics, ed. Davies, no. 119.
22 In Medieval English Lyrics, ed. Silverstein, no. 113.
23 In The Oxford Book of Medieval English Verse, no. 195.
24 From Richard Hill’s commonplace-book; IMEV 1222 (NIMEV TM 601, DIMEV 2035).
25 In The Oxford Book of Medieval English Verse, no. 28.
26 Ibid. no. 189.
27 In Medieval English Lyrics, ed. Silverstein, no. 106. Its introduction explains the use of nursery rhyme for double meanings.
28 By St John’s Day (24th June), hence a ‘John pear’.
29 In Medieval English Lyrics, ed. Davies, no. 125.
30 In Early English Carols (ed. Greene), no. 471; DIMEV 2256. The whetstone, a token of falseness, was hung about the nect of a convicted liar (MED); he means ‘I shall prove the best liar’.
31 In The Oxford Book of Medieval English Verse, no. 269.
32 Ibid. no. 191.
33 Ibid. no. 29.
34 Ibid. no. 252.
35 The editor (Sisam) marks this name as ‘obscure’.
36 In Medieval English Lyrics, ed. Davies, no. 77.
37 In The Oxford Book of Medieval English Verse, no. 180.
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