THE BALLAD OF
“SALLY BROWN AND BEN THE CARPENTER.”
I have never been vainer of any verses than of my part in the following Ballad. Dr. Watts, amongst evangelical nurses, has an enviable renown—and Campbell’s Ballads enjoy a snug genteel popularity. “Sally Brown” has been favoured, perhaps, with as wide a patronage as the Moral Songs, though its circle may not have been of so select a class as the friends of “Hohenlinden.” But I do not desire to see it amongst what are called Elegant Extracts. The lamented Emery, drest as Tom Tug, sang it at his last mortal Benefit at Covent Garden;—and, ever since, it has been a great favourite with the watermen of Thames, who time their oars to it, as the wherry-men of Venice time theirs to the lines of Tasso. With the watermen, it went naturally to Vauxhall:—and, over land, to Sadler’s Wells. The Guards, not the mail coach, but the Life Guards,—picked it out from a fluttering hundred of others—all going to one air—against the dead wall at Knightsbridge. Cheap Printers of Shoe Lane, and Cowcross, (all pirates!) disputed about the Copyright, and published their own editions,—and, in the meantime, the Authors, to have made bread of their song, (it was poor old Homer’s hard ancient case!) must have sung it about the streets. Such is the lot of Literature! the profits of “Sally Brown” were divided by the Ballad Mongers:—it has cost, but has never brought me, a half-penny.
FAITHLESS SALLY BROWN.
AN OLD BALLAD.
I.
OUNG BEN he was a nice young man,
A carpenter by trade;
And he fell in love with Sally Brown,
That was a lady’s maid.
II.
But as they fetch’d a walk one day,
They met a press-gang crew;
And Sally she did faint away,
While Ben he was brought to.