The Humours of Hayfield Fair.

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This ballad, copied from a broad-sheet, has been printed in Hutchinson's "Tour through the High Peak of Derbyshire," 1809. It will be seen to be a version—whether the original one or not remains to be seen—of the favourite ballad usually called "Come Lasses and Lads," of which the earliest known copy appears to have been printed in 1672, under the title of "The Rural Dance about the May-pole," and which has again been printed in "Pills to purge Melancholy," in "Tixhall poetry," and also, with the music, in Chappel's "Popular Music of the Olden Time," as well as in several other works. It ought to be stated that the ballad I here reprint—"The Humours of Hayfield Fair,"—although I speak of it as a version of the "Rural Dance about the May-pole," is, with the exception of here and there a verse, or part of a verse, totally distinct from it. It will, of course, be seen to go to the same tune. Hayfield is a village near Chapel-en-le-Frith, in the High Peak of Derbyshire,—in the midst of a district as wild in its superstitions as in its ballad poetry, and in its traditions as in its scenery. It has two fairs in the year, which were formerly much frequented by the "Lads and Lasses" of the district, whether they had "leave of their dads" or not.

Come, lasses and lads, take leave of your dads,
And away to the fair let's hie;
For every lad has gotten his lass,
And a fiddler standing by;
For Jenny has gotten her Jack,
And Nancy has gotten her Joe,
With Dolly and Tommy, good lack,
How they jig it to and fro!
Ritum, raddledum, raddledum; ritum raddledum ri;
Ritum, raddledum, raddledum; ritum raddledum ri.
My heart 'gain ribs ga' thumps,
When I went to th' wake or fair,
Wi' a pair of new sol'd pumps,
To dance when I got there;
I'd ride grey nag I swore,
And were mounted like a king,
Cousin Dickey walked on a'fore,
Driving a pig tied wi' a string.
Ritum raddledum, &c.
Pally Sampson too was there,
Wi' "Neighbour how do you do?"
There were all the world at the fair,
And drunk 'till they were fou';
'Twas neither heigh! nor gee!
For soon as I sold my cow,
The fiddler shog'd his knee,
And I danced my pumps clean through.
Ritum raddledum, &c.
"You're out," says Dick—"I'm not," says Nick,
"The fiddler plays it false;"
And so says Hugh, and so says Sue,
And so says nimble Alice;
The fiddler did agree,
To right us in a crack,
Dance face to face, says he,
And then dance back to back.
Ritum raddledum, &c.
Thus after an hour they tript to a bower
To play for ale and cakes,
And kisses too—until they were due,
The maidens held the stakes;
The women then began
To quarrel with the men,
And bad them take their kisses back,
And gi' 'em their own again.
Ritum raddledum, &c.
Thus they sat, until it were late,
And they tir'd the fiddler quite,
Wi' singing and playing, without any paying,
From morning until it were night:
They told the fiddler then
They'd pay him for his play,
And each gave two-pence,
(Speaking) (Ey, they gave him two pence a piece)
And then they hopp'd away.
Ritum raddledum, &c.
Come Dolly, says I, now homeward hie,
And I'll go wi' thee a mile;
She twinkled her eyes wi' a sigh
As I handed her over the style;
Then I cuddled, and kissed her face,
Were I much to blame?
Had you been in my place,
(Speaking) (I don't mean you in the smock frock dancing a
hornpipe—I mean that sly looking fellow smoking his
pipe in the corner,)
I vow you'd ha' done the same.
Ritum raddledum, &c.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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