‘Why, I can plough, and I can zow, And zometimes to the market go With Gaffer Johnson’s straw or hay, And yarn my ninepence every day!’ ‘Ninepence a-day will never do, For I must have silks and satins too! Ninepence a day won’t buy us meat!’ ‘Adzooks!’ says Dick, ‘I’ve a zack of wheat; ‘Besides, I have a house hard by, ’Tis all my awn, when mammy do die; If thee and I were married now, Ods! I’d feed thee as fat as my feyther’s old zow.’ Dick’s compliments did so delight, They made the family laugh outright; Young Richard took huff, and no more would say, He kicked up old Dobbin, and trotted away, Singing, dumble dum deary, &c. WOOING SONG OF A YEOMAN OF KENT’S SONNE. [THE following song is the original of a well-known and popular Scottish song:— ‘I hae laid a herring in saut; Lass, ’gin ye lo’e me, tell me now! I ha’e brewed a forpit o’ maut, An’ I canna come ilka day to woo.’ There are modern copies of our Kentish _Wooing Song_, but the present version is taken from _Melismata_, _Musical phansies fitting the court_, _citie_, _and countree_. _To_ 3, 4, and 5 _voyces_. London, printed by William Stansby, for Thomas Adams, 1611. The tune will be found in _Popular Music_, I., 90. The words are in the Kentish dialect.] ICH have house and land in Kent, And if you’ll love me, love me now; Two-pence half-penny is my rent,— Ich cannot come every day to woo. _Chorus_. Two-pence half-penny is his rent, And he cannot come every day to woo. Ich am my vather’s eldest zonne, My mouther eke doth love me well! For Ich can bravely clout my shoone, And Ich full-well can ring a bell. _Cho_. For he can bravely clout his shoone, And he full well can ring a bell. {153} My vather he gave me a hogge, My mouther she gave me a zow; Ich have a god-vather dwells there by, And he on me bestowed a plow. _Cho_. He has a god-vather dwells there by, And he on him bestowed a plow. One time Ich gave thee a paper of pins, Anoder time a taudry lace; And if thou wilt not grant me love, In truth Ich die bevore thy vace. _Cho_. And if thou wilt not grant his love, In truth he’ll die bevore thy vace. Ich have been twice our Whitson Lord, Ich have had ladies many vare; And eke thou hast my heart in hold, And in my minde zeemes passing rare. _Cho_. And eke thou hast his heart in hold, And in his minde zeemes passing rare. Ich will put on my best white sloppe, And Ich will weare my yellow hose; And on my head a good gray hat, And in’t Ich sticke a lovely rose. _Cho_. And on his head a good grey hat, And in’t he’ll stick a lovely rose.