"A lamentable new ditty, made upon the death of a worthy
gentleman named George Stoole, dwelling sometime on Gate-side
Moore, and sometime at New-Castle in Northumberland: with his
penitent end. To a delicate Scottish tune." Roxburghe Collection,
I, 186, 187. Roxburghe Ballads, ed. W. Chappell, I, 576.
Previously printed by [Ritson], Northumberland Garland,
Newcastle, 1793, p. 33 (p. 43 of Haslewood's reprint, London,
1809), and in Bell's Rhymes of Northern Bards, p. 162.
| 1 |
Come, you lusty northerne lads,
That are so blith and bonny,
Prepare your,hearts to be full sad,
To hear the end of Georgey. |
| |
Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, my bon[n]y love,
Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, my bonny!
Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, my ownc deare love,
And God be with my Gcorgie! |
| 2 |
2 When Georgie to his triall came,
A thousand hearts were sorry;
A thousand lasses wept full sore,
And all for love of Georgy. |
| 3 |
Some did say he would escape,
Some at his fall did glory;
But these were clownes and fickle friends,
And none 'that love'd Georgy. |
| 4 |
Might friends have satisfide the law,
Then Georgie would find many;
Yet bravely did he plead for life,
If mercy might be any. |
| 5 |
But when this doughty carle was cast,
He was full sad and sorry;
Yet boldly did he take bis death,
So patiently dyde Georgie. |
| 6 |
As Georgie went up to the gate,
He tooke his leave of many;
He tooke his leave of his lard's wife,
Whom he lovd best of any. |
| 7 |
With thousand sighs and heavy lookes,
Away from thence he parted
Where he so often blith had beene,
Though now so heavy-hearted. |
| 8 |
He writ a letter with his owne hand,
He thought he writ it bravely;
He sent to New-castle towne,
To his beloved lady. |
| 9 |
Wherein he did at large bewaile
The occasion of his folly,
Bequeathing life unto the law,
His soule to heaven holy. |
| 10 |
'Why, lady, leave to weepe for me!
Let not my ending grieve ye!
Prove constant to the man you love,
For I cannot releeve ye. |
| 11 |
'Out upon the, Withrington!
And fie upon the, Phoenix!
Thou hast put downe the doughty one
That stole the sheepe from Anix. |
| 12 |
'And fie on all such cruell carles
Whose crueltie 's so fickle
To cast away a gentleman,
In hatred, for so little! |
| 13 |
'I would I were on yonder hill,
Where I have beene full merry,
My sword and buckeler by my side,
To fight till I be weary. |
| 14 |
'They well should know, that tooke me first,
Though hopes be now forsaken,
Had I but freedome, armes, and health,
I 'de dye ere I 'de be taken. |
| 15 |
'But law condemns me to my grave,
They have me in their power;
Ther's none but Christ that can mee save
At this my dying houre.' |
| 16 |
He calld his dearest love to him,
When as his heart was sorry,
And speaking thus, with manly heart,
'Deare sweeting, pray for Georgie.' |
| 17 |
He gave to her a piece of gold,
And bade her give 't her barnes,
And oft he kist her rosie lips,
And laid him into her armes. |
| 18 |
And comming to the place of death,
He never changed colour;
The more they thought he would looke pale,
The more his veines were fuller. |
| 19 |
And with a cheerefull countenance,
Being at that time entreated
For to confesse his former life,
These words he straight repeated. |
| 20 |
'I never stole no oxe nor cow,
Nor never murdered any;
But fifty horse I did receive
Of a merchant's man of Gory. |
| 21 |
'For which I am condemnd to dye,
Though guiltlesse I stand dying;
Deare gracious God, my soule receive!
For now my life is flying.' |
| 22 |
The man of death a part did act
Which grieves mee tell the story;
God comfort all are comfortlesse,
And did[e] so well as Georgie! |
| |
heigh-ho, my bonny love,
Heigh-ho, heigh [-ho], my bonny,
Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, mine own true love,
Sweet Christ receive my Georgie! |
"The Life and Death of George of Oxford. To
a pleasant tune, called Poor Georgy." Roxburghe
Collection, IV, 53, Pepys, II, 150, Jersey, I, 86,
Huth, I, 150, according to Mr. J.W. Ebsworth,
Roxburghe Ballads, VII, 70, 1890. It was printed
for P. Brooksby, whose time Mr. Ebsworth gives as
between 1671 and 1692.
| 1 |
As I went over London Bridge,
All in a misty morning,
There did I see one weep and mourn,
Lamenting for her Georgy. |
| |
His time it is past, his life it will not last,
Alack and alas, there is no remedy!
Which makes the heart within me ready to burst in three,
To think on the death of poor Georgy. |
| 2 |
'George of Oxford is my name,
And few there 's but have known me;
Many a mad prank have I playd,
But now they 've overthrown me.' |
| 3 |
O then bespake the Lady Gray;
'I 'le haste me in the morning,
And to the judge I 'le make my way,
To save the life of Georgy. |
| 4 |
'Go saddle me my milk-white steed,
Go saddle me my bonny,
That I may to New-Castle speed,
To save the life of Georgy.' |
| 5 |
But when she came the judge before,
Full low her knee she bended;
For Georgy's life she did implore,
That she might be befriended. |
| 6 |
'O rise, O rise, fair Lady Gray,
Your suit cannot be granted;
Content your self as well you may,
For Georgy must be hanged.' |
| 7 |
She wept, she waild, she [w]rung her hands,
And ceased not her mourning;
She offerd gold, she offerd lands,
To save the life of Georgy. |
| 8 |
'I have travelld through the land,
And met with many a man, sir,
But, knight or lord, I bid him stand;
He durst not make an answer. |
| 9 |
'The Brittain bold that durst deny
His money for to tender,
Though he were stout as valiant Guy,
I forced him to surrender. |
| 10 |
'But when the money I had got,
And made him cry peccavi,
To bear his charge and pay his shot,
A mark or noble gave 1. |
| 11 |
'The ladies, when they had me seen,
Would ner have been affrighted;
To take a dance upon the green
With Georgy they delighted. |
| 12 |
When I had ended this our wake,
And fairly them bespoken,
Their rings and jewels would I take,
To keep them for a token.' |
| 13 |
The hue-and-cry for George is set,
A proper handsome fellow,
With diamond eyes as black as jet,
And locks like gold so yellow. |
| 14 |
Long it was, with all their art,
Ere they could apprehend him,
But at the last his valiant heart
No longer could de-fund him. |
| 15 |
'I ner stole horse nor mare in my life,
Nor cloven foot, or any.
But once, sir, of the king's white steeds,
And I sold them to Bohemia.' |
| 16 |
Georgy he went up the hill,
And after followed many;
Georgy was hanged in silken string,
The like was never any. |
