Whether the prosperity of Pakefield was to be dated or derived from the fact of their burying their “one poor parson” is a matter of dangerous speculation, and had better be left in safe obscurity; else other places might be tempted to make trial of the successful plan. But can any one send a copy of the whole song?
From the same authority I give a stanza of another song:—
“The cackling old hen she began to collogue,
Says she unto the fox, ‘You’re a stinking old rogue;
Your scent it is so strong, I do wish you’d keep away;’
The cackling old hen she began for to say.”
The tune, as I still remember it, is as fine as the words—for fine they certainly are, as an honest expression of opinion, capable of a large application to other than foxes.
I cannot vouch for a like antiquity for the following sea-verses; but they are so good that I venture to append them to their more ancient brethren:—
“And now we haul to the ‘Dog and Bell,’
Where there’s good liquor for to sell;
In come old Archer with a smile,
Saying, ‘Drink, my lads, ’tis worth your while.’Ah! but when our money’s all gone and spent,
And none to be borrowed nor none to be lent;
In comes old Archer with a frown,
Saying, ‘Get up, Jack, let John sit down.’”
Alas, poor Jack! and John Countryman too, when the like result arrives.
J. D.
Fifteen years after my father had penned this note, and more than two years after his death, I received from a
West Indian reader of ‘Maga,’ who had heard it sung by a naval officer (since deceased), the following version of the second sea-song:—