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And fast to the bent are they gane.
Up the morn the auld wife raife,
And at her leisure put on her claiths,
Syne to the servants bed she gaes

To speir for the filly poor man.



She gaed to the bed, whair the beggar lay,
The ftrae was cauld, he was away,
She clapt her hands, cryd, Dulefu' day!

For some of our geir will be gane.
Some ran to coffer, and some to kist,
But nought was itown that could be mist,
She dancid her lane, cryd, Praile be blest,

I have lodgd a leal poor man.


Since naithings awa, as we can learn,
The kirns to kirn, and milk to eain,
Gae butt the house, lass, and waken my bairn,

And bid her come quickly ben.
The servant gaed where the dochter lay,
The sheets was cauld, she was away,
And fast to her goodwife can say,

Shes aff with the gaberlunzie-man.


O fy gar ride, and fy gar rin,
And hast ze, find these traitors agen;
For shees be burnt, and hees be slein,


Ver. 29. The Carline. Other copies.


The wearyfou gaberlunzie-man.
Some rade upo horse, some ran a fit,
The wife was wood, and out o' her wit;
She could na gang, nor yet could the fit,

did curse and did ban.



Mean time far hind out owre the lee,
For snug in a glen, where nane could see,
The twa, with kindlie sport arid glee,

Cut frae a new cheese a whang.
The priving was guide, it pleas’d them baith,
To lo'e her for


gae her his aith, Quo dhe, to leave thee, I will be laitli,

My winsome gaberlunzie-man.



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O kend my minny I were wi’ 2011,
Illfardly wad the crook her moli,
Sic a poor man held nevir trow,

Afur the gaberlunzie-mon.
My dear, quo he, zee're zet owre zonge;
And hae na learnt the beggars tonge,
To follow me frae toun to toul,

And carrie the gaberlunzie on.


Wi' kauk and keel, Ill win zour bread,
And spindles and whorles for thein wha need,
Whilk is a gentil irade indeed



The gaberlunzie to carrie-o.
Ill bow my leg and crook my knee,
And draw a black clout owre my ee,
A criple or blind they will cau me:

While we fall sing and be merrie-o.




It is ever the fate of a disgraced minister to be forsaken by his friends, and insulted by his enemies, always reckoning among the latter the giddy inconstant multitude. We have here a Spurn at fallen greatness from some angry partisan of declining popery, who could never forgive the downfall of their Diana, and loss of their craft. The ballad seems to have been composed between the time of Crom. well's commitment to the tower, June 11, 1940, and that of his being beheaded July 28, following. A short interval! but Henry's passion for Catharine Howard would admit of no delay. Notavithstanding our libeller, Cromwell had

many excellent qualities; his great fault was too much obsequiousness to the arbitrary will of his master; but let it be considered that this master had raised him from obfcurity, and that the high born nobility bad shewn him the way in every kind of mean and servile compliance.--The original copy printed at London in 1540, is intitled, A newe ballade made of Thomas Crumwel, called TrollE ON AWAY.” To it is prefixed this difiich by way of burthen,

Trolle on away, trolle on awaye.
Synge heave and howe rombelowe trolle on away.




OTH man and chylde is glad to here tell

Of that false traytoure Thomas Crumwell, Now that he is set to learne to spell.

Synge trolle on away.

When fortune lokyd the in thy face,
Thou haddyft fayre tyme, but thou lackydyft grace; 5
Thy cofers with golde thou fyllydf a pace.

Synge, &c.

Both plate and chalys came to thy fyst,
Thou lockydit them up where no man wyst,
Tyll in the kynges treafoure suche thinges were myft.

Synge, &c.


Both crust and crumme came thorowe thy handes,
Thy marchaundy fe fayled over the fandes,
Therfore nowe thou art lay de fast in bandes.

Synge, &c.

Fyrfte when kynge Henry, God faue his grace!
Perceyud myschefe kyndlyd in thy face,
Then it was tyme to purchase the a place. 15

Synge, &c.

Hys grace was euer of gentyll nature,
Mouyd with petye, and made the hys seruyture;
But thou, as a wretche, suche thinges dyd procure.

Synge, &c.



Thou dyd not remembre, false heretyke,
One God, one fayth, and one kynge catholyke, 20
For thou haft bene so long a fcyfmatyke.

Synge, &c.

Thou woldyft not learne to knowe these thre;
But euer was full of iniquite:
Wherfore all this lande hathe ben troubled with ihe.

Synge, &c.

All they, that were of the new trycke,

25 Agaynst the churche thou baddest them stycke; Wherfore nowe thou laste touchyd the quycke.

Synge, &c.

Bothe facramentes and sacramentalles
Thou woldy ft not suffre within thy walles;
Nor let vs praye for all chryften soules.

30 Synge, &c.

Of what generacyon thou were no tonge can tell,
Whyther of Chryme, or Syschemell,
Or elfe fent vs fiome the deuyll of hell.

Synge, &c.

'I hou woldett neuer to vertue applye, But conetyd euer to clymme to bye,

35 And nowe hase thou trodden thy shoo awrye.

Synge, &c. Ver. 32. i. e. Cain, or Ismael. See leloru, the Note, Book II. No. III. fianza 3d.

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