When snoug frum the boustle, fond Simon, full oft ded he, “To her head,” tell his love such a kit ov things “soft” ded he; An’ his Dorcas, she trusted—(but wot lover do less ded he?)— That he’d soon come agin—for _wot_, Simon, guess ded he! A few moanths arter this, our pair, made but one wor they, “Tied oup,” one foine moarn, by some grave Levi’s son wor they; An’, by the smoile on etch face—so yow’d guess it stell— Their trip to oad FAIRLOP, much cause they’ve to bless it stell! FAIR-LOP FAIR. (REPRINTED VERBATIM.) COME, come, my boys, with a hearty glee, To Fairlop Fair—bear chorus with me; At Hainault Forest, ’tis known very well, This famous Oak has long borne the bell. Let music sound, as the boat goes round; If we tumble on the ground, we’ll be merry, I’ll be bound, We will booze it away; dull care we’ll defy, And be happy on the first Friday in July. To Hainault Forest Queen Anne she did ride, And beheld the beautiful Oak by her side; And, after viewing it from the bottom to the top, She said to her Court, that it was _Fair-lop_! It is eight fathoms round, spreads an acre of ground; They plaster’d it round, to keep the Tree sound; So we’ll booze it away; dull care we’ll defy, And be happy on the first Friday in July. About a century ago, as I have heard say, This Fair it was kept by one Daniel Day, As hearty a good fellow as ever there could be; His coffin was made of a limb of the Tree. With black-strap and sherry, he made his friends merry, All sorrows for to drown in brandy, rum, and perry; So they boozed it away; dull care we will defy, And be happy on the first Friday in July. At Hainault old Forest there standeth a tree, And round it have been dances, mirth, pranks, and glee; It is surrounded with woods, lawns, and plains, Where the merry little warblers pour forth their sweet strains. So we’ll dance round the Tree, and merry we will be; Every year we’ll agree the _fair_ Fair for to see; And we’ll booze it away; dull care we will defy, And be happy on the first Friday in July. FAIRLOP FAIR. AIR,—“The Maypole.” BY JOHN LABERN. LAST Fairlop Fair—to drive away care, To toddle there we swore— There was ugly Bob, and Sam the snob, And five and twenty more. Pat Murphy promised _Fair_, So him we couldn’t doubt— And what was pleasant, I declare, Our mothers let us out. Tol lol, &c. A cart and horse we hired, in course, Of Costermonger Joe— Who swore the nag was like a stag, A regular good ’un to go. We took him at his word, And paid a suvverin down, And away we toddled, toddled, toddled, And hook’d it out of town. Tol lol, &c.