Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Come to the May-Pole
Come to the May-Pole.
This song first appeared in "Westminster Drollery; a choice collection of the newest songs and poems. London, 1672." It has long been a great favourite with the rustic population of England, and the words of it are said to be still sold in Seven Dials.
Come, lasses and lads, get leave of your dads,
And away to the May-pole hie,
For every fair has a sweetheart there,
And the fiddler's standing by.
For Willie shall dance with Jane,
And Johnny has got his Joan,
To trip it, trip it, trip it, trip it,
Trip it up and down.
And away to the May-pole hie,
For every fair has a sweetheart there,
And the fiddler's standing by.
For Willie shall dance with Jane,
And Johnny has got his Joan,
To trip it, trip it, trip it, trip it,
Trip it up and down.
"Strike up," says Wat—"Agreed," says Matt,
"And I prithee, fiddler, play
"Content," says Hodge, and so says Madge,
For this is a holiday.
Then every lad did doff
His hat unto his lass,
And every girl did curtsey, curtsey,
Curtsey on the grass.
"And I prithee, fiddler, play
"Content," says Hodge, and so says Madge,
For this is a holiday.
Then every lad did doff
His hat unto his lass,
And every girl did curtsey, curtsey,
Curtsey on the grass.
"Begin," says Hal—"Ay, ay," says Mall,
"We'll lead up Packington's Pound;"
"No, no," says Noll, and so says Doll,
"We'll first have Sellinger's Round."
Then every man began
To foot it round about,
And every girl did jet it, jet it,
Jet it in and out.
"We'll lead up Packington's Pound;"
"No, no," says Noll, and so says Doll,
"We'll first have Sellinger's Round."
Then every man began
To foot it round about,
And every girl did jet it, jet it,
Jet it in and out.
"You're out," says Dick—"Not I," says Nick,
"'Twas the fiddler played it wrong
"'Tis true," says Hugh, and so says Sue,
And so says every one.
The fiddler then began
To play the tune again,
And every girl did trip it, trip it,
Trip it to the men.
"'Twas the fiddler played it wrong
"'Tis true," says Hugh, and so says Sue,
And so says every one.
The fiddler then began
To play the tune again,
And every girl did trip it, trip it,
Trip it to the men.
"Let's kiss," says Jane—"Content," says Nan,
And so says every she;
"How many?" says Batt—"Why, three," says Matt,
"For that's a maiden's fee."
The men, instead of three,
Did give them half a score,
The maids in kindness, kindness, kindness,
Gave them as many more.
And so says every she;
"How many?" says Batt—"Why, three," says Matt,
"For that's a maiden's fee."
The men, instead of three,
Did give them half a score,
The maids in kindness, kindness, kindness,
Gave them as many more.
Then, after an hour, they went to a bower,
And played for ale and cakes,
And kisses too,—until they were due
The lasses held the stakes.
The girls did then begin
To quarrel with the men,
And bade them take their kisses back,
And give them their own again.
And played for ale and cakes,
And kisses too,—until they were due
The lasses held the stakes.
The girls did then begin
To quarrel with the men,
And bade them take their kisses back,
And give them their own again.
Now there they did stay the whole of the day,
And tired the fiddler quite,
With dancing and play, without any pay,
From morning until night.
They told the fiddler then
They'd pay him for his play,
Then each a twopence, twopence, twopence,
Gave him and went away.
And tired the fiddler quite,
With dancing and play, without any pay,
From morning until night.
They told the fiddler then
They'd pay him for his play,
Then each a twopence, twopence, twopence,
Gave him and went away.
"Good-night!" says Harry—"Good-night!" says Mary,
"Good-night!" says Dolly to John;
"Good-night!" says Sue to her sweetheart Hugh,
"Good-night!" says every one.
Some walked and some did run,
Some loitered on the way,
And bound themselves by kisses twelve
To meet the next holiday.
"Good-night!" says Dolly to John;
"Good-night!" says Sue to her sweetheart Hugh,
"Good-night!" says every one.
Some walked and some did run,
Some loitered on the way,
And bound themselves by kisses twelve
To meet the next holiday.