ADvance, advance, advance gay Tenants of the Plain,
Advance, advance, advance, gay Tenants of the Plain,
Loud Eccho spread my Voice,
Loud Eccho spread my Voice,
Loud Eccho, loud Eccho, loud Eccho,
Loud Eccho, loud Eccho, spread my Voice,
Advance, advance, advance, gay Tenants of the Plain,
Advance, advance, advance, gay Tenants of the Plain.
The King and the Shepherd, and GILLIAN the Shepherd’s Wife, with her churlish Answer to the King.
[[Listen]]
IN Elder Time, there was of Yore,
When Guides of churlish Glee;
Were us’d among our Country Earls,
Though no such thing now be.
The which King Alfred liking well,
Forsook his stately Court;
And in Disguise unknown went forth,
To see that jovial Sport.
How Dick and Tom, in clouted Shoon,
And Coats of russet Grey,
Esteem’d themselves more brave than them,
That went in Golden ray.
In Garments fit for such a Life,
The good King Alfred went,
All ragg’d and torn, as from his Back
The Beggar his Cloaths had rent.
A Sword and Buckler good and strong,
To give Jack Sauce a rap;
And on his Head, instead of Crown,
He wore a Monmouth Cap.
Thus coasting through Somersetshire,
Near Newton Court he met
A Shepherd Swain of lusty Limb,
That up and down did jet.
He wore a Bonnet of good Grey,
Close buttoned to his Chin;
And at his Back a leather Scrip,
With much good Meat therein.
God speed, good Shepherd, quoth the King,
I come to be thy Guest;
To taste of thy good Victuals here,
And drink that’s of the best.
Thy Scrip I know, hath Cheer good store,
What then the Shepherd said?
Thou seem’st to be some sturdy Thief,
And mak’st me sore afraid.
Yet if thou wilt thy Dinner win,
The Sword and Buckler take;
And if thou canst into my Scrip,
Therewith an entrance make.
I tell thee, Roister, it hath store
Of Beef, and Bacon fat;
With sheafs of Barly-bread to make
Thy Mouth to water at.
Here stands my Bottle, here my Bag,
If thou canst win them Roister;
Against the Sword and Buckler here,
My Sheep-hook is my Master.
Benedicit now, quoth our good King,
It never shall be said;
That Alfred of the Shepherd’s Hook,
Will stand a whit afraid.
So soundly thus they both fell to’t,
And giving Bang for Bang;
At every Blow the Shepherd gave,
King Alfred’s Sword cry’d twang.
His Buckler prov’d his chiefest Fence,
For still the Shepherd’s Hook;
Was that the which King Alfred could,
In no good manner brook.
At last when they had fought four Hours,
And it grew just Mid-day;
And wearied both, with right good Will,
Desir’d each others stay.
King, Truce I cry, quoth Alfred then,
Good Shepherd hold thy Hand:
A sturdier Fellow than thy self,
Lives not within this Land.
Nor a lustier Roister than thou art,
The churlish Shepherd said,
To tell thee plain, thy Thievish looks,
Now makes my Heart afraid.
Else sure thou art some Prodigal,
Which hast consum’d thy store;
And now com’st wand’ring in this place,
To rob and steal for more.
Deem not of me, then quoth our King,
Good Shepherd in this sort;
A Gentleman well known I am,
In good King Alfred’s Court.
The Devil thou art, the Shepherd said,
Thou goest in Rags all torn;
Thou rather seem’st, I think to be,
Some Beggar basely born.
But if thou wilt mend thy Estate,
And here a Shepherd be;
At Night to Gillian my sweet Wife,
Thou shalt go home with me.
For she’s as good a Toothless Dame,
As mumbleth on Brown Bread;
Where thou shalt lie on hurden Sheets,
Upon a fresh Straw Bed.
Of Whig and Whey, we have good store,
And keep good Pease-straw Fires;
And now and then good Barly Cakes,
As better Days requires.
But for my Master which is Chief,
And Lord of Newton Court;
He keeps I say, his Shepherds Swains,
In far more braver sort.
We there have Curds, and clouted Cream,
Of Red Cows morning Milk;
And now and then fine Buttered Cakes,
As soft as any Silk.
Of Beef and reised Bacon store,
That is most Fat and Greasy;
We have likewise to feast our Chaps,
And make them glib and easie.
Thus if thou wilt my Man become,
This usage thou shalt have;
If not, adieu, go hang thy self,
And so farewel Sir Knave.
King Alfred hearing of this Glee,
The churlish Shepherd said;
Was well content to be his Man,
So they a Bargain made.
A Penny round, the Shepherd gave,
In earnest of this Match;
To keep his Sheep in Field and fold,
As Shepherds use to watch.
His Wages shall be full Ten Groats,
For Service of a Year;
Yet was it not his use, old Lad,
To hire a Man so dear.
For did the King himself (quoth he)
Unto my Cottage come;
He should not for a Twelvemonths Pay,
Receive a greater Sum.
Hereat the bonny King grew blith,
To hear the clownish Jest;
How silly sots, as custom is,
Do discant at the best.
But not to spoil the Foolish sport,
He was content good King;
To fit the Shepherd’s humour right,
In every kind of thing.
A Sheep-hook then, with Patch his Dog,
And Tar-box by his side;
He with his Master, jig by jowl,
Unto old Gillian hy’d.
Into whose sight no sooner came,
Whom have you here (quoth she)
A Fellow I doubt, will cut our Throats,
So like a Knave looks he.
Not so old Dame, quoth Alfred strait,
Of me you need not fear;
My Master hir’d me for Ten Groats,
To serve you one whole Year.
So good Dame Gillian grant me leave,
Within your House to stay;
For by St. Ann, do what you can,
I will not yet away.
Her churlish usage pleas’d him still,
Put him to such a Proof,
That he at Night was almost choak’d,
Within that smoaky Roof.
But as he sat with smiling cheer,
The event of all to see;
His Dame brought forth a piece of Dow,
Which in the Fire throws she.
Where lying on the Hearth to bake,
By chance the Cake did burn;
What can’st thou not, thou Lout (quoth she)
Take Pains the same to turn:
Thou art more quick to take it out,
And eat it up half Dow,
Than thus to stay till’t be enough,
And so thy Manners show.
But serve me such another Trick,
I’ll thwack thee on the Snout;
Which made the patient King, good Man,
Of her to stand in Doubt:
But to be brief, to bed they went,
The good old Man and’s Wife;
But never such a Lodging had
King Alfred in his Life:
For he was laid in white Sheeps Wool,
New pull’d from tanned Fells,
And o’er his Head hang’d Spiders Webbs,
As if they had been Bells.
Is this the Country Guise, thought he,
Then here I will not stay;
But hence be gone as soon as breaks
The peeping of the Day.
The cackling Hens and Geese kept roost,
And perched at his side;
Whereat the last the watchful Cock,
Made known the Morning Tide.
Then up got Alfred with his Horn,
And blew so long a Blast,
That made Gillian and her Groom,
In Bed full sore agast.
Arise, quoth she, we are undone,
This Night, we lodged have,
At unawares within our House,
A false dissembling Knave;
Rise Husband, rise, he’ll cut our Throats,
He calleth for his Mates,
I’d give old Will our good Cade Lamb,
He would depart our Gates.
But still King Alfred blew his Horn
before them, more and more,
’Till that a hundred Lords and Knights,
All lighted at the Door:
Which cry’d all hail, all hail good King,
Long have we look’d your Grace;
And here you find (my merry Men all)
Your Sovereign in this place.
We shall surely be hang’d up both,
Old Gillian I much fear,
The Shepherd said, for using thus
Our good King Alfred here:
O pardon, my Liege, quoth Gillian then,
For my Husband and for me,
By these ten Bones I never thought
The same that now I see:
And by my Hook, the Shepherd said,
An Oath both good and true,
Before this time, O noble King,
I never your Highness knew:
Then pardon me and my old Wife,
That we may after say,
When first you came into our House,
It was a happy Day.
It shall be done, said Alfred streight,
And Gillian thy old Dame,
For this thy churlish using me,
Deserveth not much Blame.
For this thy Country Guise I see,
To be thus bluntish still,
And where the plainest Meaning is,
Remains the smallest Ill.
And Master, lo I tell thee now,
For thy low Manhood shown,
A Thousand Weathers I’ll bestow
Upon thee for thy own.
And pasture Ground, as much as will
Suffice to feed them all,
And this thy Cottage I will change
Into a stately Hall.
As for the same, as Duty binds,
The Shepherd said, good King,
A milk white Lamb once every Year,
I’ll to your Highness bring.
And Gillian my Wife likewise,
Of Wool to make you Coats,
Will give you as much at New Year’s Tide,
As shall be worth ten Groats:
And in your Praise my Bagpipe shall
Sound sweetly once a Year,
How Alfred our renowned King,
Most kindly hath been here.
Thanks Shepherd, thanks, quoth he again
The next time I come hither,
My Lords with me here in this House,
Will all be merry together.
