Article MT164, part 23 - newly written for MT.
Rock The Cradle, John
(Rocking the Baby that's none of my own)
'Wise are the Children in these daies that know their owne fathers, especially if they be begotten in Dogge daies
(the heat of summer), when their mothers are frantick with love.'
(1589, R Greene, Menaphon VI. 92)
'It is a wise father that knows his own child'
(1596, Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice II ii, 69)
I am indebted to Mike Yates for both these quotations.
The ancient theme of Cuckoldry has lingered long in popular music as part of the wider topic of marital discontent. An interesting subgroup of the cuckoldry ballads is that which includes husbands' laments for having to nurse and raise one or more children that are none of their own. Naturally we come across more examples of these from historical periods from which large collections of popular songs have been preserved, such as the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries. Undoubtedly just as many of these existed before this and in the intervening period, but collections from these times, for various reasons, are not so readily accessible at the moment. However, the advantage of posting articles like this online is that new discoveries can be added without much effort.
My main reason for presenting these readily available texts in one place is not to postulate some great thesis, but simply to show once again how themes can be followed through the centuries in popular song. In some cases as shown in previous articles the chains of songs are actually connected by plot and some are even directly related by text. In this case mostly the theme and titles are all that connect the songs presented.
The first ballad we give on the theme was entered in the Stationers' Registers for 4th November 1631 by Edward Blackmore. It was written by Laurence Price, one of the two greatest popular ballad writers of the century. There are at least two copies of the original, one in the Roxburghe Collection III 176 and the other at Pepys, Volume I, p404, 1 reprinted in Volume 7 of The Roxburghe Ballads.2
Rocke the Cradle, John:
Or.
Children after the rate of twenty-foure in a yeere,
That's two euery moneth as plaine doth appeare,
Let no man at this strange story wonder,
It goes to the tune of , Over and Under.
There was a Country Gallant, that wasted had his talent,
Not dreading what would fall on't, would needs a wooing ride:
Vnto a Lasse of the City, that courageous was and pretty,
This Damsell neat and witty, he would goe make his Bride:
This Lasse she had of wealth good store, her stocke was three-score pound and more,
Though some supposed her to be poore, the same hath late been tride.
Rocke the Cradle, rocke the Cradle, rocke the Cradle, John;
There's many a man rockes the Cradle, when the Child's none of his owne.
Unto this Lasse incontinent, the Young-man went with good intent,
His love was fixed and firmly bent, to take her to his wife:
Quoth he, "My sweet, while life doth last, my heart is in thy bosome plac'd,
Let not my suit be now disgraced, I love thee as my life."
Said shee, "Your suit I must deny, for I have vowed a Maid to dye,
If I lose my virginity, it sure will breed much strife."
Rocke the Cradle, etc.
"I have been wooed by Harry, but I indeed will tarry,
I never mean to marry, while I on earth remain:
Sweet William and young Thomas too, and Richard hath made much adoe,
And Ned with teares did often woe, but Humphrey did complaine:
All these brave gallants I forsake, I prethee John no more words make,
But to some other course betake, I do thy suit disdaine.
Goe rocke the Cradle," etc.
The man no whit dismaid, at that which she had said,
But with his Sweet-heart stayed, and did request her still:
He did intreat her favour, 'twas all that he did crave her,
That hee might onely have her, his fancy to fulfill:
"My heart doth fry in Cupid's fire, thy beauty I doe much admire;
Then yeeld, my love, to my desire, or else a man you kill."
Rocke the Cradle, etc.
When she herself did vnderstand, she had a foole caught by the hand,
Her ship she knew was soundly man'd, her belly wondrous round:
Thought she, "This is a friend of mine, it's best make hay while sun doth shine,
Yet to some thing I will him joyne, before my fault be found."
Said she, "If I be made thy wife, thou must me humour all thy life,
And carefull be for feare of strife, like to a 'Prentise bound."
Rocke the Cradle, etc.
The Second Part. To the same tune.
"In the morning, if I desire, thou must rise up and make a fire,
And other things I shall require, which thou must undertake;
My breakfast thou must dresse also, that I from bed to it may goe,
All these hard taskes and many more thou must not then forsake,
To brush my Gowne and set my band, make clean my shoes at my command,
Thy businesse thou must vnderstand if I the word but speake.
Rocke the Cradle, etc.
"And when we chance to have a child, thou must like to a Father mild,
Unto the same be reconcil'd, and dance it on thy knee;
Or if the infant cry for pap, thou then must take it on thy lap,
And feed it well, what euer hap, if John will marry mee;
Thou must take paines as thou art able, to make the bed, and serve at Table,
And lay the young one in the Cradle, whilst I sing merrily,
Rocke the Cradle, etc.
"Sweet-heart," quoth he, "to please thee, I'le doe all things to ease thee,
I will not once disease thee, nor yet my loue offend.
My hands vnder your feet I'le lay, the wind shall not my loue annoy,
So thou wilt be mine ownely ioy, I'le loue thee to the end.
I'le make the bed, the house I'le sweep, and lull the Baby fast asleepe;
What you command my selfe will keepe, and will my humour bend."
Rocke the Cradle, etc.
To this they both agreed, and married were with speed,
For shee had wondrous need, as you shall heare hereafter;
The same day month that they were wed, the married man was fairly sped,
His wife was safely brought to bed, and had both sonne and daughter,
Which by the Midwife in was brought, qd she, "You have a strange thing wrought,
Two children in a moneth begot!" and so tooke up a laughter.
Rocke the Cradle, etc.
He kist the Girle and lou'd the Boy, said he, "You are your father's joy,
There's many are in great annoy, because they have no child:
I knew a Lord and Lady faire, that did desire to haue an heire,
Now I myself haue got a paire, an they are both beguil'd.
My wife is fruitful, now I see, and will some great increase bring mee!"
"They are your owne assuredly," then said the Midwife mild.
Rocke the Cradle, etc.
"See here the Boy is like the Dad, which well may make your heart ful glad,
Cheere up your selfe and be not sad, for that which here is done:
His ruby lips doe plaine disclose, his cherry cheeks and dad's owne nose."
"For twenty pound I will not lose," quoth he, "my little sonne."
So well content this foole was found, he leapt for ioy above the ground.
"Old sorrow shall," quoth he, "be drown'd, since now are fresh begun:
Rocke the Cradle, Iog the Cradle, thus Ile have it knowne,
I loue to rocke the Cradle, the children be mine owne."
All you which now have heard this ditty, take heed with wiues how you doe fit ye,
For if you come to London City, you quickly may be sped;
As here you see this Country Lad within a moneth was made a Dad,
Though he but little share in't had, his wife was brought to bed;
And now this simple woodcocke the Cradle is constrain'd to rocke,
His neighbours doe deride and mocke, cause he is so bestead.
They shout and cry and to him say, "Still the children, John!"
'Tis enough to make the man to thinke they may be none of his owne.
Another ballad contemporary with this one is narrated by the cuckold and in it he claims to be more than happy for his wife to father children on him and go out on the rantan as he can spend her money freely.
The above ballad is more like a prequel to the later ones in that it describes the build-up to the 'rocking the cradle' situation, and is not in effect an old man's lament like the others. It has little in common with the later ballads other than the title and burden.
The designated tune 'Over and Under' comes from a ballad registered on 13th of June that same year, 1631. It is a variation of the tune used for contemporary versions of The Jovial Tinker and Joan's Ale is New, both ballads which have survived in oral tradition down to today. The same tune was used for our next ballad, a follow-up by that other great ballad writer of the period, Martin Parker, which was registered 2nd of January 1632. We include it here as it is clearly related and for the sake of completeness.
Rocke the Babie Joane:
Or.
Iohn his Petition to his loving Wife Ioane,
To suckle the Babe that was none of her owne.
To the tune of , Under and over
A young man in our parish
his wife was somewhat currish.
For she refus'd to nourish
a child which he brought home:
He got it on an other,
And death had tane the mother,
The truth he could not smother,
all out at last did come:
Suckle the Baby,
huggle the Baby,
Rock the Baby Ione.
I scorne to suckle the Baby,
Unlesse it were mine owne.
His wife cry'd out on one day,
I thinke it was on Sunday,
The next day being Monday,
his wench in sunder fell:
The Dad on 't shee desiryed,
which having done, shee dyed
this could not be denyed,
alas he knew't too well.
The Parish him inforced
To see the Infant nursed,
He being but lightly pursed,
desir'd to save that charge:
He brought it to his owne wife,
whom he lov'd as his owne life:
To her the case was knowne rife,
he told her all at large.
Quoth he my Ione my dearest,
thy love to me is nearest,
Thy virtue will shine clearest
in doing this good deed:
This Infant young is left heere,
Unable to make shift heere,
Twill be of life bereft heere,
unlesse thou doe it feed.
Away thou false deceiver,
Quoth shee farewell for ever;
I am resolved never
To love thee as I did:
Alas quoth hee my honny,
I would not for any money,
By thee my sweetest conny,
to be so shrewdly chid.
Although I lov'd his mother,
Ile vow to love none other,
What needst thou keepe this pother,
since shee (poore wretch) is dead:
No more she can thee trouble,
And 'twould be charges double,
If every moneth a Noble
I pay for milke and bread.
The second part. To the same tune.
Twould be to my discredit,
Should I both board and bed it,
Nor never woman did it
to a Bastard in this kind.
Dearest leave off this fashion
Twill be thy commendation
To take commiseration,
let not the child be pind.
What if the brat be starved?
Experience hath observed
It should not bee preserved
by her that is thy wife.
Thy patience will appeare more,
O take it Juggie therefore
Beare with my fault, for wherefore
should we continue strife:
I doubt I shall be forced,
From thee to be divorced,
Thy brood shall nere be nursed,
by me nor by my cost.
O wife be not so cruell,
thou knowst thou art my Jewell,
be certain if thou doe well,
thy labour is not lost.
My neighbours will deride me,
And none that dwell beside me
Will evermore abide me
for such a President.
No Ione thou art mistaken,
Twill other wives awaken,
Then let some course be taken
for the child's nourishment.
Let patient Grissels storie,
Be still in thy memorie,
Who wonne a lasting glory,
through patience in like sort:
Although it touch thee merely,
This Barne that lookes so cheerely
Shall binde me still more deerely,
to love thee better for't.
Well Iohn thy intercession
Hath chang'd my disposition,
And now upon condition
thoul't go no more astray:
Ile entertaine thy Baby,
And love it as well as may be.
Doe so (sweet jugge) I pray thee,
then this is a joyful day.
Suckle the Baby
Huggle the Baby
Rocke the Baby Ione:
I prethee jugge love my Baby,
And count it to be thine owne.
I have a Title, I bore it
But just a day before it,
Although we be but poore yet,
these two we will maintaine:
Ile suckle it, and dandle it,
And very choycely handle it,
And thou shalt sope and candle get:
and thus betweene us twaine,
Weele suckle the Baby,
And huggle the Baby.
Gramercy honest Ione.
O Iohn Ile rock thy Baby,
As well as 'twere mine owne.
FINIS
Printed at London for H(enry) G(osson)
(Written by Martin Parker, c1631.)
The tune 'Under and Over' is the same tune as used for 'The Jovial Tinker' and 'Joan's Ale is New'.
This copy from Pepys Ballads Vol 1, p396.3
A version was registered to Coles in 1632 in The Stationers Register.No2318
A little later in the century in 1672 Phillip Brooksby near the Hospital-gate, in West Smithfield, London, printed the following ballad on the same theme. A copy exists in the Roxburghe Collection II. 225 and the Douce Collection I. 77. This version was reprinted in Roxburghe Ballads, Volume 8, p440.4
I father a Child that's none of my own:
Being The Seaman's Complaint; who took a Wanton instead of a Saint:
Shewing, That whilst he was Trading Seven Years from Port to Port at Sea, and brought home great wealth, his Wife, in the meantime, by Trading in the Low Countries, got a mischance, fell down and broke her ----- Elbow: above all praising the Innocence of a Country Life.
TO THE TUNE OF Cook Laurel; or, Give me the Lass
If every woman was serv'd in her kind,
And every man had his just desert,
The rooms in Bridewel would be so well lin'd,
That a coach could not pass in the street for a cart.
Full seven long years have I cross'd the Seas,
Mean time I've been crost as much on the Land:
My wife still at home did live at her ease:
I'm sure she had all things at her command.
She needed not her fingers to wet,
Yet she keeps her Gallant, she was so high flown;
But sure I must lose by the stake, or the bett,
If I father a child that is none of my own.
I that have 'scaped the rocks and the sand,
And climed the billows when storms they have blown,
At last am come to be ship-wrack'd on land,
To father a child that is none of my own.
I have traded abroad, to bring home some wealth,
From port unto port, in far countries unknown;
Mean while my wife has been trading by stealth,
And got me a child, though 'tis none of my own.
My neighbours all they do laugh me to scorn,
And point their fingers at me and my Joan;
Saying, that I must drink out of a horn,
And father a child that is none of my own.
Though I cannot pocket my horns (as some can,
By good women's tattles), they are so o're-grown,
Yet 'tis the hard case of many a man:
All you that hear me, look home to your own!
For Gallants are dainty, and seek in the throng,
And love for to pick on another man's bone:
So many an honest good fellow had wrong,
To father a child that is none of his own.
In cities and towns of greatest request,
This slye sort of pilfering trade is much known:
If a man has a beautiful wife, he can't rest,
For fear to keep children that's none of his own.
But well fare the Country! they live at their ease;
Their innocence all their actions does crown;
They may go, they may stay, they may do what they please,
And fear not to keep any more than their own.
The Plow-man that works far a field without joy,
And shepherd that keepeth his sheep all alone,
At night when at home with their wives may toy,
And fear not to father what's none of their own.
Now I must rock the cradle, beside
Dry clouts on my horns by the fire at home;
When I look abroad my neighbours deride,
'Cause I father a child that is none of my own.
And is not this most detestable strange,
To be led by every strumpet's moan?
I may sit and sell horns at the Royal Exchange,
When I father a child that is none of my own.
A man may be made a cuckold by chance,
And put another man's child to nurse;
And hood-wink his horns through Ignorance;
But he that's a wittol is ten times worse.
But I'le never grieve, but let it all pass;
By woman there's many a man over-thrown:
Although I'm an ox, I'le ne'er be an ass,
To father a child that is none of my own.
Neither did I spring out of that race,
To call that my seed which another had sown;
Then ne'er let me look King Charles in the face,
If I father a child that is none of my own.
How these ballads relate to later ones on the same theme cannot be traced for certain, but it is known that at times broadside hacks of later centuries harked back to earlier printings for their inspiration. In this case a likely scenario is that one or more of these ballads survived in popular tradition for a generation or two and then in fading memories the chorus continued in oral tradition to spark off an idea for a new ballad a century or more later. Similar processes still continue today. That the tune proved popular enough to come down to us today could also have been a factor in the process.
We then have a gap in our knowledge of the theme of more than a century, but we can perhaps put this down to the inaccessibility of most of the street literature of the eighteenth century. Once this becomes more easily available we will possibly find other examples of the theme. Meanwhile they lie on dusty shelves in our large libraries waiting for funding and more advanced copying techniques. Having said that, slow laborious research in the British Library has turned up the next version of a song that is still being sung today. Most of the British Library eighteenth century street literature consists of garlands of 4 or 5 songs all tightly bound together in little volumes of about 80 garlands each. At ref. 11606 aa 22 (74) 1 is the following with no imprint, but on style and surrounding material it is of about 1800.
Rocking the Cradle; or, Hushy-Ba
(The cover of the garland has 'Rocking of the Cradle')
I am an old man of three score and ten,
I am rocking the cradle and making my moan,
I am an old man, I am three score and ten,
I am rocking the cradle that is none of my own.
Which makes me sing hushy-ba, nothing to me,
and gars me say hushy-ba, Bastard, ly still,
Tho' I'm not your daddy, my wife is your Minnie,
waes me! For she's taking too much of her will.
I'm old and I'm crazie but might have liv'd easy,
but nothing would please me but the young and the fair,
I am old and I'm crazie, I might have liv'd easy,
but Cupid leads captive the boldest in war.
To balls and to plays she always goes foremost,
She's always going foremost and carries the gree,
To all sorts of balls she's still going foremost,
She's ay seeking something I cannot well gi'e.
It's none of my own that lies in the cradle,
which makes me sing to it so mournfully,
There's two and two at the sea, two and two like to die,
Two lie in the cradle and two on my knee.
You impudent rogue, replied the mother,
So little you think what I have to do,
I'm knitting your stockings and washing your linens,
I'm rocking your cradle and spinning your tow.
Which makes me sing hushy-ba, something to me
Which makes me sing hushy-ba, baby lie still,
Tho' he's no your daddy, yet I am your Minnie,
It's well known I ne'er get too much of my will.
Then she comes in with a rap on the table,
Crying, you old rogue, is the tea-kettle on?
Get up you old devil and rock while you're able,
Or else if you don't you'll get skelping your fill.
Which makes me cry hushy-ba, nothing for me,
Which makes me cry hushy-ba, baby lie still &c.
At the moment this is the earliest extant version of this song. It has all the hallmarks of oral tradition which would push back its origins into the eighteenth century. The few Scotticisms it contains simply suggest that this version was printed in Scotland. The garland has no imprint but all of the garlands in the bound volume that do have an imprint were printed in Scotland. Later versions that turn up on broadsides of the mid-nineteenth century all have some Irish connection so a possible migration is from Scotland to Ireland, a well-worn route for broadside ballads in both directions.
(Stanza 4 above seems to be an echo from that rare Child Ballad 21 The Maid and the Palmer)
The following version was printed by Nugent of Dublin. (See Bodleian Broadside Ballads website for three copies.)5
Rocking the Cradle
As I roved out on a fine summer's morning,
Down by a clear river I walked alone,
I heard a man making a most sad lamentation,
And thus he began to make his sad moan.
Crying ochone that I ever was married,
Leaves me in sorrow alas to bemoan,
Weeping, wealing, and rocking the cradle;
Pleasing the child that is none of my own.
I listened awhile to his sad lamentation,
Perhaps that his story it might be my own,
So fondly he hugged and dandled the baby,
And thus he began to make a sad moan.
When first I met with your inconstant mother,
I though myself happy and blessed with a wife,
But in my relaxation sure I soon was mistaken,
She was a torture and plague to my life.
My wife comes in, in the heel of the evening,
She says to her consort the kettle put down,
For she sits to her table, and to tea drinking,
Saying you old cuckold rock the child round.
Every evening 'tis true she walks with her bullies,
And leaves me the cradle to rock all alone,
This innocent baby it calls me its daddy
But little it knows it's none of my own.
If I was single once more to my glory
No element of pleasure would e'er me invoke,
I'd rather be a slave in wild Guinea.
Than to any drunkard or deceit be a cloak.
So now to conclude and to finish my story,
All men that are single ne'er take a wife,
For if you do they will surely torment you,
Likewise be a torture all the days of your life.
Crying ochone that I ever was married
Leaves me in sorrow alas to bemoan.
Hush-a-by baby be still and be easy,
I fear that your father will never be known.
Somewhat ironically the following version, which contains an Irish phrase at the end of stanza 2, was printed in London at about the same time as the preceeding by Elizabeth Hodges.6 'Ma chroi es ma bron' is a well-worn phrase meaning 'my heart and my sorrow'. (Thanks to John Moulden and Fred McCormick for this translation and further information on other versions.) This version lacks the 6th stanza of Nugent's version above.
Rocking the Cradle
As I roved out on a fine summer's morning,
Down by a clear river I walked all alone
I heard a poor man making sad lamentation,
And thus he began to make his sad moan.
Crying ochone, that ever I was married,
Which leaves me in sorrow, alas to bemoan!
Weeping and wailing and rocking a cradle,
And nursing a child that is none of your own.
I listen'd awhile to his sad lamentation,
Perhaps that the story it might be my own,
So fondly he hugg'd and dandled the baby,
Your mammy has left me, ma croc es ma vrone.
It's every day she walks with her fancy,
And leave me the cradle to rock all alone,
This innocent baby he calls me his daddy,
It's little he knows that he's none of my own.
My wife she comes in in the heel of the ev'ning,
She calls to me smartly the kettle to put down,
She sits to her table and to her tea-drinking,
She cries, you old cuckold, come rock the child sound.
As soon as she opens her eyes in the morning,
She says you old rascal come bring me a draw,
To kindle the fire and get her the breakfast,
I must nurse the baby until she is done.
When first I met with your inconstant mother,
I thought myself happy and blest with a wife
Now to my sorrow, sad grief and vexation,
She has proved a torture and plague of my life.
Now for to finish my sad lamentation,
All you that is single pray ne'er take a wife;
For if that you do they will surely torment you,
And prove a sad ruin all the days of your life.
Crying, ochone that ever I married,
Which leaves me in sorrow, alas to bemoan?
Husha, baby, it's close and be aisy,
I'm sure your own father will never be known.
Not common in oral tradition, it is though widespread, versions turning up in America, Australia and Newfoundland as well as parts of the British Isles. These reduced oral versions consist of stanzas 1, 3, 5 and 7 of the Hodges version. A common variation on the final stanza is:
All you young men that is fond of the lassies
Take my advice, leave those flash girls alone,
For by the Lord Harry if one you should marry,
They'll bring you a wee one that ne'er is your own.
(from Sally Sloane, Australia)7
Perhaps only a coincidence but the Harry/marry rhyme is also found in the third stanza of Price's seventeenth century ballad.
An even later variation on the theme goes under various titles and, according to Bert Lloyd in the notes to Mike Waterson's 'Charlady's Son' version, is a 'music-hall piece of the 1860s beginning Oh show me the lady that never would roam.' Again widespread versions from America, Australia and Labrador as well as Britain show considerable variation and, rather than print them all, I have attempted a reconstruction of a likely original. When the original turns up, as it no doubt will eventually, I will replace my reconstruction with it.
Rocking the Babies to Sleep
(Editorial title)
Oh, show me the lady that never would roam
Away from her fireside at night,
And never go roaming out after the boys,
But sit by her fireside so bright.
My wife she's one of a different kind,
Oft caused me a great deal of grief,
She's off from the home, she leaves me alone
To rock all our babies to sleep.
Hi-ly, ho-ly, hush-a-by, baby,
Rock the dear baby and toss him so high
Hi-ly, ho-ly, hush-a-by, baby,
Your mammy'll be coming back by and by.
I am just forty-five with a dear little wife,
For she's just ten years younger than me;
She's full of enjoyment, likes plenty of fun,
But she likes to go out on a spree.
When she leaves me behind the dear babies to mind
And the house in good order to keep,
And there she will roam far away from her home
While I rock the babies to sleep.
I remember one night when I came back home
I came in as quiet as a lamb;
She must have had company for when I walked in
I heard the back door when it slammed.
I walked right in and looked all around,
I never thought that she would cheat;
Without a doubt she'd just gone out,
And left all our babies asleep.
A few nights ago I went out on the street
After rocking the babies to sleep;
And to my surprise I saw with my eyes
Me wife with a man of six feet.
She said, 'There's no harm so don't be alarmed,
Don't make any fuss on the street.'
She took hold of my chin and said, 'Dear, let's go in
And rock the dear babies to sleep.'
Stanzas 1 and 3 adapted from Meredith and Anderson.8 Stanzas 2 and 4 adapted from versions A and B respectively in Hubbard.9
At about the same time as this song came out prolific Music-Hall song writer from Bolton in Lancashire, Joseph B Geoghegan, was resurrecting the title of Price's ballad.10 The structure of the song, the story and the chorus are so close to Price's ballad that one wonders if the song is based directly on it. As with Price and Parker's ballads, many of Geoghegan's songs can be found in oral tradition today and this one is no exception though scarcer than some of the others.
Rock the Cradle John!
Old Humphrey Hodge a farmer was,
His age was fifty seven,
A bachelor too, and well to do,
For he in the world had thriven;
And Humphrey Hodge from dawn till dark,
Was happy as the day was long,
For he rose with the sun and he sang with the lark
And this was his favourite song.
Rock the cradle John,
Rock the cradle John,
For there's many a man rocks another man's bairn,
And thinks he is rocking his own.
Now Humphrey Hodge had a servant girl,
As blooming as the day,
And she was fair as the lily or pearl
And fresh as the flowers of May;
And her eyes shot forth such lustrous beams,
That somehow ere 'twas long,
Her image was ever in Humphrey's dreams,
In spite of his favourite song.
Now Humphrey Hodge, alac and alas,
Grew tired of single life,
And ere the harvest moon could pass,
He made this maid his wife.
And the sun shone bright on his marriage morn,
And the bells rang out ding dong,
And Humphrey felt like a man new born
And fairly forgot his song.
Now Humphrey Hodge and his dear young wife,
Were happy as any pair,
Until the time he was blessed,
With a buxom son and heir;
And he sits and sighs, as the baby cries,
With its lungs so loud and strong;
Yet he sings forsooth and reflects on the truth,
Contained in his favourite song.
Now Humphrey Hodge walks round his farm,
And his hair is silver gray,
With the wife before and the child on his arm,
The fruits of December and May;
And the people oft smile at the silly old man,
Being wed to a wife so young,
And Humphrey winks and blinks,
When his neighbours sing him the song.
The theme appears to have continued in America. Fred McCormick and Greg Stephens tell us via the Mudcat Forum the following was a song sung by Blind Lemon Jefferson.
Crawling Baby Blues
Heard a baby cryin', what does this mama mean?
Heard a baby cryin', what does this mama mean?
He's cryin' 'bout his sweet milk, and she won't feed him Jersey cream.
Well, he crawled from the fireplace, stopped in the middle of the floor,
Well, he crawled from the fireplace, stopped in the middle of the floor,
Says, "Mama, ain't that your second daddy standin' back there in the door?"
Well, she grabbed my baby, spanked him and I tried to make her leave him alone,
Well, she grabbed my baby, spanked him and I tried to make her leave him alone,
I tried my best to stop her and she said the babe ain't none of mine.
The woman rocks the cradle, I declare she rules the home,
The woman rocks the cradle, I declare she rules the home,
Married man rocks some other man's babe, Fool thinks he is rockin' his own.
In conclusion I make no excuses for repeating the request; if there are any other songs or ballads that match this theme please let us know and we'll include them.
Dungbeetle - 19.10.10
Notes:
(1) Brewer, D S, Catalogue of the Pepys Library, Facsimile Volumes 1-5, The Pepys Ballads, 1987, St Edmundsbury Press.
(2) Ebsworth, J W, The Roxburghe Ballads, Volume VII, 1893, The Ballad Society.
(3) Brewer, D S, Catalogue of the Pepys Library, Facsimile Volumes 1-5, The Pepys Ballads, 1987, St Edmundsbury Press.
(4) Ebsworth, J W, The Roxburghe Ballads, Volume VIII, 1899, The Ballad Society.
(5) Bodleian Library Broadside Ballads Website, Harding Collection B 19(65) /2806 b 9(282) /2806 c 15(202).
(6) Archive Website, ia351404.us.archive.org/3/items/analbumofstreetl00arylrich Copies also in the Leslie Shepherd Collection and the Crampton Collection, 7.252 and 8.497, British Library.
(7) Meredith, John, and Anderson, Hugh, Folk Songs of Australia, 1967, Ure Smith, Sydney.
(8) Ibid.
(9) Hubbard, Lester A, Ballads and Songs from Utah, 1961, University of Utah Press.
(10) Bodleian Library Broadside Ballads Website, Harding Collection B11(1526) corrected from an oral version in Andrews, Colin, Shepherd of the Downs, 1979, Worthing Museum & Art Gallery, p30.
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