Country Farmer (2) (The)
X:1 T:Country Farmer  M:6/8 L:1/8 B:Thompson's Compleat Collection of 200 Favourite Country Dances, vol. 1 (London, 1757) Z:Transcribed and edited by Fynn Titford-Mock, 2007 Z:abc's:AK/Fiddler's Companion K:G D|EFG GFE|A2A ABc|BAG FED|G2G G2:| |:c|Bcd efg|d2d dcB|cde efg|A2A A2B| cde dcB|ABG c2B|ABG FED|G2G G2L:||
COUNTRY FARMER . AKA - "King James's Jigg." English, Air and Jig. G Major. Standard tuning (fiddle). AABB. A ballad (contained in the Roxburghe Collection) was set to the air, called "The Countrey Farmer; or, The Buxome Virgin," "To a New Tune, called, New-Market, or King James's Jigg." It was printed twice in 180 Loyal Songs (1685). It goes:
There was a brisk Lass both Bonny and Brown,
That courted her Sweet heart, in our Town,
She laid by her work, her wheel, and Yarn,
To find out her love in the Farmers Barn,
Quoth she, if thou wilt be married,
Wel high to the Priest, then to bed,
My Virgin Treasure ile give thee Ned,
That is to be plain my Maiden-head.
You know that my love is a Flame of Fire,
And burns when it cannot obtain desire,
My Beauty is now in its bloom and prime,
And I cannot, nor wonnot delay the time:
I long for to taste of those tender joys,
'Those soft Kisses, and wanton Toys,
That every Maid in her Wedding enjoys,
When Lasses with Lovers get lusty Boys.
A Garland of Flowers my love shall wear,
And ile give him a lock of my coal-black-hair,
At every Wake my love ile treat,
And ile give him kind busses as Cream-Bowls sweet;
Thou shalt be my Buck and ile be thy Doe,
And ile Milk, and thou shalt mowe,
Ile Card, and ile Spin, while you Harrow and sowe
And call upon Dobbin with Hey-ge-woe.
Quoth Ned, for your Love I take no care,
But busie my self with my Plow, and Mare.
Young Cupid I think is a lazy Loon,
And besides I intend for to marry Joan?
Quoth Nell, as for Joan she will never Wed,
She lies like an Eunuch in her dull Bed,
Shes ugly, and Old, looks paler then Lead,
Not like a Brisk Lass of a Woman bred.
Young Colin upon Martillas Cheeks
A thousand delightful pleasures seeks,
He kisses her oft by her own good-will,
And will scarcely once let her all night lye still:
Come touch but my lips, with those lips of thine,
They are all melting, and all divine,
Like Grapes that appear on the Springing Vine,
As plump, and as soft, and as sweet as thine.
My dearest quoth Ned, ile but clout my shoone,
And we will be Married before tis noone:
Ile go to the Church and a License bring,
And buy thee a dainty fine Golden Ring:
Ile give thee to ride on my pacing Roan,
With the Grey Pillian I lent to Joan,
Ah! waies me poor Jugg, how will she make moan,
That Fate has designd her to lye alone.
While Jugg feels the pains of Cupids Dart,
That wounds the breast of each Lovers heart,
Shel sit and shel sigh upon the Plain,
And rehearse her disloyal Shepherds name,
While thee my dear Gill in my arms ile hugg,
And hide thee in the soft Sheet and Rugg,
Poor Joan shall look pale, that never lookt smugg,
Adieu to my gentle sweet Jugg-Jugg-Jugg.
Though Juggy be crusty what need I care,
For she may have Lovers enough to spare,
But now she is lately so sower grown,
She minds not the young-men that make their mo[an]
Yet lusty for Life, and full of good will,
I was yesterday, so I am still,
Ile bring all my Grist to my true Lovers Mill,
And hugg and make much of my Gill, Gill, Gill.
Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden-Ball in Pye-corner.