Dearest Helen/The Butcher’s Frolic
The Butcher's Frolic.
It is of an honest butcher, that lived in Leeds town,
He was a clever youth, and his name it was Jack Brown,
A taylor's wife went out one day some meat for to buy,
What do you want goodwoman, what do you wish to buy.
I want a loin of mutton, if you don’t ask too dear,
Come here, honest woman, and I’ll use you kind and fair,
You are the cleverest woman that I have seen to-day,
I’d have you come and view my meat before you go away.
She took the loin of mutton, and lik’d it very well,
And said unto the Butcher, the price now to me tell?
Fair dear, 'tis at your service, or any joint I have,
If that you tell me where you live, your company I crave.
The place where I do live is near the blazing star,
If you ask for the hand and sheers, you’ll surely find me there,
To-morrow night, most certainly, I'll come and visit thee;
With all my heart, kind sir, you are welcome unto me.
She took the loin of mutton, refuse it she would not;
Straight home then she did carry it, and boil'd it in the pot;
When her husband he came home, she told him what she had;
His heart it jumpt for joy, he was so very glad.
She said, my loving husband, how must this contrivance be?
To-morrow night, most certainly, the Butcher comes to me,
You must get under the bed, and take a sword with you,
And if the butcher comes, swear you'll run him through.
I never handled sword, nor fought in all my life.
Pray take the sword yourself, my lovely dear good wife;
You must not be faint hearted, but fight with courage bold,
For if we do win the day, we'll gain great store of gold.
The butcher he bethought himself he'd best provided be,
For fear the taylor and his wife should play a trick on he;
He took a brace of pistols, and put them on the bed,
Which made the taylor quake for fear, and look like one quite dead.
What is this that stinks so, the butcher he did say,
It is my husband's little dog that under the bed doth lye.
If 'tis your husband’s little dog, I'll turn him out of the room,
I beg you will be still, my dear, 'tis only a little poltroon.
The butcher he arose, and there he chanced to spy
One of the taylor's legs, who under the bed did lie:
If this be your husband’s little dog, I'll kill him out of spite—
O spare my life, the taylor cried, and you may kiss my wife.
Now said the butcher, let you and I agree,
That I may come whene'er I please, your loving wife to see,
With all my heart, the taylor said, you are welcome to my wife,
⟨I⟩ never was so frightened before in all my life.