A Caveat for Cut-Purses!

A CAVEAT FOR CUT-PURSES!

My masters, and friends, and good people, draw near, And look to your wallets for this I do say; For though little money in them do you bear, It costs more to get than to lose in a day; You've often been told, both the young and the old, And bidden beware of the robber so bold; So listen I pray you and hear my verse For I give you both warning, you and the cut-purse.

It has been upbraided to men of my trade, That often-times we are the cause of this crime. Alack and for pity! why should it be said, As if they regarded or places or time? Examples have been of those that were seen In Westminster-hall, yea, the pleaders between; Then why should the judges be free from this curse More than my poor self is, for cutting a purse?

Youth, you hadst better been starved by your nurse, Than live to be hanged for cutting a purse.

It's well known in Worcester that even in gaol, A knight of good worship did there show his face. Against the foul sinners in zeal he would rail, And lost, ipso facto, his purse in the place: Nay, once from the seat of judgement so great, A judge there did lose a fair budget of velvet. Oh Lord! for thy mercy how wicked, or worse, Are those that so venture their necks for a purse.

The plain countryman comes staring to London, And once you come near him he quickly is undone; For when he amazedly gazes about, Jack treads on his toes, and his mate pulls it out; Then in a strange place, where he knows not a face, His money is gone, it's a pitiful case. The Devils of hell in their trade are no worse Than gilters, and divers, and cutters of purse.

The poor servant girl wears her purse in her placket, A place of quick feeling, and yet you can take it, Nor is she aware you have done such a feat, Until she is going to pay for her meat; She goes through her clothes. She cries and she rages And swears at one thrust she has lost all her wages; She is engaged her own to disburse, To make good the breach of the cruel Cut-purse. But oh, you vile nation of Cut-purses all! Relent and repent, and amend, and be sound, And know that you shouldn't by honest men's fall Advance your own fortunes to die above ground: And though you go gay in silks, as you may, It isn't the highway to heaven, they say. Repent you, repent you for better for worse, And kiss not the gallows for cutting a purse!

So now to my hearers this counsel I give, And I pray you remember as long as you live, Bring out no more cash in your pocket or wallet, Than one single penny to pay for the ballet. The Cut-purse doth shroud himself in a cloud, There's many a purse has been lost in a crowd; He's the most rouge that crowds up, and curses, Who first cries, "My masters, beware of your purses!"

IBSON, GIBSON, JOHNSON (or THE THREE BUTCHERS or JOHNSTONE)

It's Ibson,Gibson, Johnson as I have heard men say, They started out from London all on the market day;

And as they were riding along as fast as they could ride, “Oh stop your horse,” says Johnson, “for I hear some woman cry.”

“I will not stop,” says Ibson, “I will not stop,” says he. “I will not stop,” says Gibson, “for robbed we shall be.”

So Johnson he got off his horse and he searched the woods all around He's found a naked woman with her hair pinned to the ground.

“How came you here dear woman? How came you here fast bound? How came you here stark naked with your hair pinned to the ground?”

“Oh they robbed me, they stripped me, they left me here fast bound. They left me here this morning with my hair pinned to the ground.”

So Johnson he being a valiant man and a man of valiant mind, He wrapped his coat around her and he took her up behind.

And as they were riding along as fast as they could ride She put her fingers to her mouth and she gave three shivering cries.

Out jumped three bold highwaymen with swords keen in hand Who then commanded Johnson commanded him to stand.

“I'll stop, I'll stand, said Johnson, “I'll stop I'll stand,” says he, “For never was I in all my life afraid of any three.”

Oh two of them he quickly slew and the third he did not mind, Till the false young woman took her knife and she stabbed him from behind.

Poor Johnson he spun round about and fell down to the ground And he cursed that wretched woman who gave him his death wound.

Oh the day it being the market day there were people passing by Who saw the awful murder, who saw poor Johnson die.

SHOOT THEM ALL! (or BOX ON HER HEAD or THE UNDAUNTED FEMALE or THE STAFFORDSHIRE MAID)

There was a fine young damsel that in London town did dwell, For wit and for beauty there was none could her excel. She took her box all on her head and so she travelled along And the first one that she met with was a charming Highwayman.

He says, “My pretty fair maid why do you go this way? I'll show you a far quicker road across the country.” He's taken her by the lily-white hand and led her down a lane, Then it's “Stand and Deliver! or else your life I'll have.”

But while this charming highwayman was grasping for his knife She stole his pistol from his belt and stole away his life. She took her box all on her head and so she travelled along And the next one that she met with was a noble gentleman.

Oh he says, “My pretty fair maid where are you going so late? And what was that commotion that I heard by yonder gate? That box you carry upon your head it doesn't to you belong, To your master or your mistress, oh you have done something wrong!”

“To my master and my mistress I have done nothing ill But I fear it in my own heart that some ruffian I have killed.” She took his horse all by the rein and led him to the place Where the highwayman lay cold as clay and bleeding from his face.

And then this girl knelt down to see what the highwayman had got, She found two loaded pistols and some powder and some shot. She found two loaded pistols and some powder and some balls A knife and a whistle his comrades for to call. So she's put that whistle to her lips and blew both loud and shrill And four more gallant highwaymen came running o'er the hill. The gentleman shot one of them and that right speedily And the beautiful young damsel she shot the other three.

CADGWITH ANTHEM

Come fill up your glasses and let us be merry, For to rob and to plunder it is our intent

As we roam through the valleys With the lilies and the roses Where the beauty of Kashmir lays drooping its head. Then away, then away, then away To those caves in yonder mountain where the robbers retreat.

Hush, hush, in the distance, there's footsteps approaching. Stand and deliver! It is our watch cry.

SAUCY BOLD ROBBER

Come all you good people that go out a-tippling I pray you give attention and listen to me song I'll sing you a ditty of a jolly bold robber Stood seven feet high in proportion quite strong.

Well he robbed Lawyer Morgan and old Lady Dawkins Five hundred bright guineas from each one of them And as he was a-strolling he spied a young sailor And bold as a lion he slewed up to him.

“Hand over your money you saucy young sailor There's plenty of bulk in your pockets I see.” “Aye aye,” said the sailor, “I've plenty of money But while I have life, I've got none for thee.”

“Well I just left me ship gave the press gang the slip And I'm off up to London me sweetheart to see With forty bright sovereigns to pay our sweet lodgings So I pray you bold robber don't take them from me.”

But the robber caught hold of this gallant young sailor With a blow like a pole-axe felled him to the ground “Aye aye,” said the sailor, “you struck me quite heavy But now I'll endeavour to repay you in kind.”

So then both they stripped and like tigers they skipped And they fought life for life like soldiers in the field But the ninety-seventh meeting it was their completing But this gallant young sailor the robber he killed.

And down then he looked on this blood-stained old robber “I hope you'll forgive me old fellow,” says he “But if I had just lifted one thousand bright guineas Well I'm damned if I'd have stopped a poor sailor like me.”

ROBIN HOOD AND THE BISHOP OF HEREFORD Some talk of dukes, some talk of lords Derry derry down! Some talk of the barons so bold, But I'll tell the tale of Robin Hood, How he stole the bishop's gold. Derry down! Hey! Derry derry down!

As it befell in merry Barnsdale, All under the greenwood tree, The Bishop of Hereford he drew nigh, With all his company.

"We are poor shepherds," said bold Robin Hood, "And we keep sheep all the year, But we are resolved to be merry today, And eat one of the king's own deer."

"Thou art a bold fellow!" the Bishop replied, "And the king of this deed shall know; Therefore make haste and come along with me, And before the King you'll go."

But Robin set his back against a tree, And his foot against a thorn, And out from beneath his long shepherd's coat Pulled out his mighty horn.

He's put his horn up to his mouth, And so lustily he did blow, Threescore and ten of bold Robin's men Came riding all in a row.

They doffed their hats to bold Robin Hood; Such a noble sight to see: "Que ce passe t il" dit le bon p'tit Jean "Que vous soudainement soufflez?"

Diri don! Ah! Diri Rigardon! "O here is the Bishop of Hereford, “He will not set me free" "Nous le battrons” rit le bon petit Jean "Ca marche toujours, c'est vrai!"

"O pardon, O pardon," said the Bishop, "O pardon, I thee pray! For if I had known it had been you, I'd have gone some other way."

"No pardon, no pardon," said Robin Hood, "No pardon I thee owe; Therefore make haste and come along with me, To the Barnsdale Inn we'll go."

Then Robin took the Bishop by the hand, And led him to merry Barnsdale; He made him stay and sup that night, And to drink wine, beer, and ale.

"Call in the reckoning," The Bishop he cried, "For methinks it's wondrous high" "Donne-moi t'argent” dit le bon petit Jean "Et bientôt je vous le dirai"

Then Little John took the bishop's fine cloak, And spread it upon the ground, And out of the bishop's portmantal Took thirty thousand pound.

Robin Hood took the Bishop by the hand, And he's made the pipers play, He made the Bishop to dance in his boots, He was glad to get so away.

GAOL SONG

“Step in, young man, I know your face, It's nothing in your favour. A little time I'll give to you: Six months unto hard labour.”

To me Hip! fol the day, Hip! fol the day, To me Hip! fol the day, fol the digee, oh!

At six o'clock our goaler comes in, With a bunch of keys all in his hand. “Come, come, my lads, step up and grind. Tread the wheel till breakfast time.”

At eight o'clock our skilly comes in, Sometimes thick and sometimes thin, But devil a word we must not say Or it's bread and water all next day.

At half past eight the bell does ring. Into the chapel we must swing, Down on our bended knees to fall. “The Lord have mercy on us all”

At nine o'clock the jangle rings. All on the trap, boys, we must spring. “Come, come, my lads, step up in time, The wheel to tread and the corn to grind.”

Now Saturday's come, I'm sad to say, Sunday is our starvation day. Our hobnail boots and tin mugs too, They are not shined nor they will not do.

Now six long months are over and past, And I will return to my bonny, bonny lass. I'll leave them gaolers all behind, The wheel to tread and the corn to grind,

TURPIN HERO Turpin was riding across Ramsey moor, Saw a lawyer riding before. Says he “Kind sir, aren't you afraid Of Turpin, that mischievous blade?”

Oh rare Turpin! - Sing Oh! For the valious Turpin! Oh!

Says Turpin “No robber may find me out For I've hidden my money all in my boot.” The lawyer replied “There's none shall find My gold, for it's stitched in my cape behind.”

As they rode down by Houghton Mill Turpin commanded him to be still “Kind sir, your cape I must cut off For my horse is in need of a saddle cloth.”

“I've robbed your gold and I've robbed your store, But I know you're a lawyer, so you'll soon find more And I've robbed your gold and I've robbed your fee But your wages flow from rogues like me.”

The very next day on Wistow plain Turpin's seen that lawyer again And boldly he did bid him stand “Your gold, kind sir, I do demand.”

“Kind Sir, I've cost you a hefty price, For I've robbed you once and I've robbed you twice And at every town where you do come in You can tell 'em you were robbed by the bold Turpin.”

The lawyer rode out the very next day And to bold Turpin he went straight way “One thing I have, young man” said he “That you can never take from me.”

“If you will wager this with me, I'll spare your neck from the gallows tree But thrice my gold you must return If you can't name this thing I own.”

“Your gold and gear are to my hand Freely I'd rob your house and land Your daughter dear who at home doth lie Would leave you, all for to be my bride.”

Then the lawyer took a pistol from his waste And stared bold Turpin hard in the face “The more my treasures are yours to view The more have I dislike of you.”

Well Turpin neither smiled nor frowned But came no more by Ramsey Town And paying his debt to that lawyer so bold Gave thirty thousand pounds in gold.

I went to school in Ramsey. In my class was a lad named Turpin who was interesting for two reasons, the second of which was that he was a direct male line descendant of Richard Turpin, C18th England's most wanted criminal. However, he was a lot more interesting because he had a glamorous older sister. She was interesting for two reasons, but I digress. Turpin was eventually hanged at York Racecourse for having terrible handwriting. ADIEU, ADIEU

Adieu Adieu, hard is my fate, I was brought up in a tender state, Bad company did me entice, I left off work and took bad advice.

Which makes me now to repent, and say, Pity the fate of young brigands all, Well-a-day, well-a-day.

Long was I chained in debtors' gaol, 'till fate and chance did my stay curtail, A gambled fortune I could not repay, So I set a-robbing on the kings highway.

Lady Darcy with her golden hair; Of her great riches, I took my share. I stole her treasure, and her fair heart too Her gilded cage I had broken through.

Which makes me now to repent and say, Pity the fate of young poprins all, Rue the day, Rue the day.

I robbed lord Gibson, I do declare, Not of jewels, but of his daughter fair, He slammed the shutters and bid me goodnight, And away I went with his heart's delight.

Which makes me now to repent and say, Pity the fate of young lovers all, One more day, One more day.

To Cupid's Garden we did away To Cupid's Garden to sport and play, But there we were by Chance persued I was taken by that cursed crew.

Which makes me now to repent and say, This is the fate of young robbers all, Every day, every day.

Now when I'm dead and going to me grave, No costly tombstone will I crave. Six bonny lasses for to carry me Give them broadswords, love, and sweet liberty.

Which makes me now to repent, and say, Pity the fate of young brigands all, Well-a-day, well-a-day.

GOD'S TRIBUNAL (or THE DEADLY NEVER-GREEN TYBURNE TREE or THE ELMS OF TYBOURNE or TRIPLE TREE )

After morning there comes an evening And after evening another day. And after false love, there comes a true love. It is hard to hold them that will not stay.

Once he was a bold highwayman, He was as fair as any that the sun shone on. Ah but how to save him I do not know it, Since he's been sentenced all to be hanged

As he rode west to the Elms of Tybourne, He was composed right manfully, More like a king or some commanding officer Than a man to die upon the triple tree.

Now the very first step he did put on the ladder, His rosy colour it did not fail; Midst maidens sighing and crowds a-crying; “Is there no releasement from the Southwark Gaol?”

The very next step he did put on that ladder, His loving father was standing by, “Come here, come here, my loving father And hear my confession before I die”

“Stand back, stand back, you false prosecutors, Until his confession to me is done; And then you will see that you may not hang him Till within ten minutes of the setting sun.”

And as the sun slipped below the gallows His love came riding swifter than the wind. “Oh come down, come down from those weary gallows For I bear your pardon all from the King; For I made them see that they may not hang you And I'll crown my love all with a bunch of green!”

The “Elms of Tybourne” are, of course, the triple gallows upon which a lamentable proportion of the best dressed highwaymen of C17th London met their exquisitely tailored end. This song is a close cousin of the Northern Irish ballad “Derry Gaol”. The condemned man would be told of his fate by candlelight at midnight on a sunday by the clerk of St Sepulchre-without-Newgate (the musician's church at Old Bailey) and at nine the following morning would make his final journey. The trip from Newgate Prison to Tyburn, a little over two and a half miles) took three hours due to the crowds and was punctuated by stops at at least two pubs on the way, notably including a halfway house. This was the Bowl Inn at St Giles (probably the Angel as it stands today) where the prisoner and his executioner would drink together.

Newgate was also a debtors prison, hence the well known nursery rhyme “Oranges and Lemons” which is a stark warning to stay out of debt of face the consequences. (“When will you pay me? Said the bells of Old Bailey...Here comes a candle to light you to bed and here comes a chopper to chop off your head”)

"Stand And Deliver" (Stuart Leslie Goddard / Marco Pironi)

[Spoken:] Stand and deliver!

I'm the dandy highwayman Who you're too scared to mention I spend my cash on looking flash And grabbing your attention The devil take your stereo And your record collection The way you look, you'll qualify For next year's old age pension!

Chorus: Stand and deliver, your money or your life (Hoh!) Try to use a mirror, not a bullet or a knife (Hoh!)

I'm the dandy highwayman So sick of easy fashion The clumsy boots, peekaboo roots That people think so dashing So what's the point of robbery When nothing is worth taking? It's kind of tough to tell a scruff The big mistake he's making

CHORUS

And even though you fool your soul Your conscience will be mine, mine

We're the dandy highwaymen So tired of excuses Of deep meaning philosophies Where only showbiz loses We're the dandy highwaymen And here's our invitation Throw your safety overboard And join our insect nation!

CHORUS

Even though you fool your soul Your conscience will be mine, mine

Qua qua, Da diddly qua qua Da diddly qua qua, da diddly qua qua

Stand and deliver! Stand and deliver! Stand and deliver!