  The plot of the ballad of "The Blink Eyed Cobler," is the old story of a young gentleman falling in love with a servant, seducing her, promising to marry her, the marriage prevented by the "cruel father," a disguise adopted, the father giving a dowry to the supposed Cobbler so as to induce him to marry her, and in the end the happy reconciliation of all the parties. The ballad is here given from a broad-sheet in my own collection. It is printed broad-way of the paper, in four columns, and has a wood-cut at the head, of a lady and her waiting-woman before a looking-glass, and a gentleman standing in the room with them. It occurs also in other forms. All you that delight in merriment, It is very new and certain true, You need not tarry long, Before you laugh your belly full, Therefore be pleas'd to stay, I hope that you will be pleased, Before you go away. It's of a knight in Derbyshire, Who had a handsome son, He kept a handsome chambermaid, Who had his favour won; They dearly lov'd each other, Being full of sport and play, Having seduced this "handsome chambermaid," and she having told him that she is likely to become a mother, the ballad goes on— He cries love be contented, (This is what must be said,) And do not let my father know, For on Sunday we will wed. But mind how cruel fortune, Their fate did seem to force, The old man stood in the corner, And heard the whole discourse. Next morn he call'd the maid, Likewise the youth his son, And with a smiling sneering look, The story thus begun. He said I wish you both much joy, You are to wed on Sunday, But I'd have you be rul'd by me, 'Twill be but one day longer, With that he laugh'd outright, But I'm resolv'd to part you both, For fear it should be to-night. He paid the girl her wages, And home he then her sent, And confin'd him to his chamber, In tears for to lament. Next morning unto London, Along with a sturdy guide, To his uncle's house on Cornhill, He sent him to abide. But as they rode along the way, He said unto the guide I'll give thee twenty guineas To let me step aside. Because this very morning, One word my father said, The same I do remember, And keep it in my head. The guide straightway gave consent, And he went to his sweetheart Sue, Then told to her the story, And what he design'd to do. Disguis'd like a poor cobler, With a long rusty beard, With a leather coat not worth a groat, To his father's house he steer'd. He knocked boldly at the door, He said, sir, be you such a one? He answered, yes, the same, He cry'd, I understand your son, Wanton tricks has play'd, Unknown to your worship, Along with your chambermaid. I understand some money With her you are freely to give, To help to keep the child and she, So long as they do live. Now I am an honest cobler, Who do live here just by, For fifty pounds I'll marry her, If that will but satisfy. The old man answer'd, before The money I do pay, I'll see her fairly marry'd, And give her myself away. With all my heart, the cobler Unto the old man did say, With that he fetch'd the fifty pounds, And the bargain he made straightway. And when they came unto the church, As we do understand, The old man strutted boldly, Then took her by the hand, Crying, heavens bless you from above, And send you long to live, And as a token of my love, They parted very friendly, The old man home he went, The bride and bridegroom rode away, To London by consent. Where she was fairly brought to bed, With joy and much content, A letter into the country, To his father then he sent, Sir, I think it is my duty, And am bound to acquaint thee, That there is a lady in this city, Who has fallen in love with me. Five thousand pounds a year she, All in good house and land, That if you're willing for the match, Come to London out of hand. The old man got his coach ready, And up to London came, For to view this charming lady, Who was of birth and fame. Then coming to his brother's house, This beauty for to view, He little thought this beauty bright, Was his old servant Sue. With gold and silver spangles, She was bedeck'd all round, The noise of her portion being told, For so many thousand pounds. The old man took his son aside, Take my advice and marry her, My dearest child this day. That morning they were marry'd, And dinner being done, The old man being mellow, The story thus begun. He said dear son I'll tell you, And nothing but what is true, A poor blinking one ey'd cobler, Has wedded thy sweetheart Sue. The young man went a little aside. As I to you confess, And then within a short time, He put on his cobler's dress. Then taking Susan by the hand, They fell on their bended knees, Saying, pardon, honoured father, Pardon if you please. For I am John the cobler, And this is my sweetheart Sue, O pardon us, dear father, Because we tell you true. If you are the cobler, said the old man, Who had the blinking eye, Thou'st cobl'd me of a thousand pounds And a pox on thy policy. The uncle he persuaded him, So did all the guests, The old man fell a laughing, That I cannot be angry, Then straight these words did say, I pray fetch me the fiddlers, And so let's dance away. Now we may see the old and rich, Are bit by policy, For beauty, wit, and good manners, Beyond all riches be. So here's a good health to the cobler, With another to handsome Sue, Let every one drink off his glass, Without any more ado. |
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