Vagabond Songs and Ballads of Scotland, with Many Old and Familiar Melodies

Next came a tailor, nimble,

With lapbroad, shears, and thimble;

And, oh, how he did tremble,

Amongst the jovial crew;

They made him pay for drink and smoke,
Until poor snip was fairly broke,

And he was forced to pawn his cloak.

When John's ale was new,

brave boys,

When John's ale was new.

There next came in a tinker,

Who was no small-beer drinker;
He scorned to be a trinker,
Amongst the jovial crew;
He had rivets made of metal,

To mend each broken kettle;

What he drank he swore he'd settle.

And he sought to be merry,

Amongst the jovial crew;

brave boys,

He threw his wallets on the ground,

Said he would pay for drink a crown;

They drank his health right merrily round.

When John's ale was new, brave boys,
When John's ale was new.

The ale was aye improving,
None ever thought of moving;
The longer they sat bousing,

The greater friends they grew;
They drank each man full glasses,
Till they were drunk as asses,

And the rag-bags burnt to ashes.

When John's ale was new, brave boys,
When John's ale was new.

Originally in some form, I suspect, from the south of the Tweed, the above rant has yet enjoyed a firm hold, and received embellishments here, where distilling of whisky more than brewing of ale abounds: I have talked with many persons, at any rate, not yet greatly stricken in years, who remember it as a popular song at small convivial gatherings in village inns and in city tap-rooms in Scotland, when they were young. Of the particular John, who brewed such tempting ale, it would be interesting to have personal notanda, but none is to hand. On the occasion described at least, his house must have presented a scene not less wildly bachanalian than the revels of the Jolly Beggars, as depicted by Burns, in Poosie Nancy's lodging-house in Mauchline; an excess of drinking and high jinks happily little known in those more rational times, or, when discovered, not deemed a subject fit for celebration in song. The version here printed is collated from a broad-sheet copy, and several in manuscript received from correspondents. A very serviceable copy was one obtained from Mr. Duncan Graham, Crieff, from whose singing the air was written for us by his friend, Mr. Alexander Christie.

TOM BROWN.

THE King shall take the Queen,

And the Queen shall take the Jack;

And we shall all be merry, boys,

When we get drunk with sack.

Here's to you, Tom Brown,

To you my jolly lad;

For you and I shall drink a crown,
When money can be had.

The Jack shall take the Ten,

And the Ten shall take the Nine; And we shall all be merry, boys,

When we get drunk with wine.