https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items?sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CTitle&output=atom <![CDATA[Execution Ballads]]> 2024-03-29T10:53:48+11:00 Omeka https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1273 <![CDATA[ Das Opfer der Liebe oder: Die unschuldig Hingerichtete : Geschehen in Nancy in Frankreich ]]> 2021-03-25T12:35:21+11:00

Title

Das Opfer der Liebe oder: Die unschuldig Hingerichtete : Geschehen in Nancy in Frankreich

Digital Object

Image notice

Full size images of all ballad sheets available at the bottom of this page.

Image / Audio Credit

Deutsches Volksliedarchiv Freiburg i.Br. (Bl 9379). VD Lied digital.

Date

Execution Location

Nancy, France

Printing Location

Schwiebus : Reiche [ca. 1922]

URL

https://gso.gbv.de/DB=1.60/SET=1/TTL=1/SHW?FRST=2
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1220 <![CDATA[ Ein schœn New Lied von dem erbermlichen Blutbad etlicher Oberlendischer fuernemer Kriegsleut so Graff Latron Elendigklich hat lassen hinrichten jn dem Niderland. ]]> 2021-03-25T16:14:26+11:00

Title

Ein schœn New Lied von dem erbermlichen Blutbad etlicher Oberlendischer fuernemer Kriegsleut so Graff Latron Elendigklich hat lassen hinrichten jn dem Niderland.

Subtitle

Jm Thon Kompt herzu mir spricht Gottes Son [et]c.

Synopsis

An account of the various soldiers who were executed in the 'bloodbath' of the Dutch Revolt.

Digital Object

Image notice

Full size images of all ballad sheets available at the bottom of this page.

Image / Audio Credit

Berliner Liedflugschriften SBB-PK Berlin <Ye 4151>. VDLied Digital.

Date

]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1154 <![CDATA[ La Pendaison (The hanging), plate 11 from Les Misères et les malheurs de la guerre (The miseries and misfortunes of war) series.]]>
https://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/explore/collection/work/41047/]]>
2020-01-08T14:18:04+11:00

Title

La Pendaison (The hanging), plate 11 from Les Misères et les malheurs de la guerre (The miseries and misfortunes of war) series.

Description

Callot has always been regarded as one of the exceptional artists of his time, although he never made any paintings; he worked exclusively as a printmaker and produced more than 1400 plates, almost all of which he designed and which earned him enduring fame across Europe. Callot hailed from Nancy, capital of the Duchy of Lorraine, were he grew up in elevated court circles and was apprenticed by his father to the court goldsmith. He departed for Rome at a young age, training there as a printmaker and forming his recognisable style. By 1614 he was living in Florence and working for the Grand Dukes of Tuscany, recording theatrical productions and court pageants. He returned to Nancy in 1621 and two years later was appointed artist to the Lorraine court under the patronage of Duke Henri II, but most of his activity involved commissions from religious orders and prints made independently for sale to the public. To this last category belongs Callot’s masterpiece, the series of 18 small etchings known in English as The miseries and misfortunes of war, arguably the best-known set of prints produced in France during the 17th century. The prints were marketed in Paris in 1633 by Callot’s friend, the publisher Israel Henriet, and the set was sold as a booklet, stitched together at the left side. Each plate (excluding the title page) contains a verse commentary in the bottom margin attributed to the voracious print collector, the abbé Michel de Marolles. Marolles famously sold his collection to Louis XIV in 1667, and it eventually became the foundation of the present-day print collection at the Bibliothèque nationale in Paris. Callot only made etchings but he handled the technique in a very particular way: he used a specially designed tool called an échoppe which allowed him to create elegant, swelling lines mimicking those produced by the engraver’s burin. Thus Callot was able to imitate the effects of the nobler art of engraving while sustaining the speed of execution peculiar to the process of etching. Working on a miniaturist’s scale, his animated vignettes are replete with detail; indeed, part of their fascination is due to the vast spaces and hopelessly innumerable crowds Callot managed to capture in such a reduced format. The miseries and misfortunes of war abounds with scenes of barbarity and carnage, and although it was not intended to be read as a sequence of documentary-like observations of real events, there is no denying the aspect of lived experience which runs through the plates. The socio- political context in which Callot made the prints was the Thirty Years’ War, a succession of conflicts that devastated central Europe between 1618 and 1648. What was initially a string of religious disputations between Protestants and Catholics erupted into a larger conflict between the Habsburgs of the Holy Roman Empire and the French kings, the Bourbons, for dominance in Europe. Lorraine sided with the Habsburgs; in 1633 the French army invaded Lorraine and in the following years the territory was ravaged by marauding troops, many of them mercenaries with no allegiance to their side, wreaking havoc on the lives of ordinary people and making violence part of the background of daily life. Callot’s series is less an indictment of war than a moral tale about the unhappy consequences that befall the undisciplined soldier. The descent into lawlessness is typified by the plate depicting troops looting a farmhouse and torturing the inhabitants. Other prints focus on the radical corrections administered by the military to corrupt soldiers: one such plate depicts the body of a criminal soldier being broken on a wheel, while in another, executed men hang from the boughs of a tree, the shocking spectacle belied by Callot’s refined touch and the measured elegance of the composition at large. The verse in the lower margin reads: : ‘Finally these infamous and abandoned thieves, hanging from this tree like wretched fruit, show that crime (horrible and black species) is itself the instrument of shame and vengeance, and that it is the fate of corrupt men to experience the justice of heaven sooner or later.’ Peter Raissis, Prints & drawings Europe 1500–1900, 2014

https://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/explore/collection/work/41047/

Creator

Jaques Callot (French, 1592 - 24 Mar 1635)

Date

1633

Rights

Public Domain: This work is in the public domain in its country of origin and other countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 100 years or less.

Original Format

Etching
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1276 <![CDATA[ Reuevolles und zur Warnung dienendes Abschieds-Lied von der Welt, ]]> 2021-03-25T12:09:55+11:00

Title

Reuevolles und zur Warnung dienendes Abschieds-Lied von der Welt,

Subtitle

der zum Tode verurtheilten Deliquentin Theresia K*** welche in Wien den 16. März 1809, wegen verübter Mordthat an ihrem eigenen Manne, mit dem Strange vom Leben zum Tode hingerichtet worden : Zum singen eingerichtet nach der bekannten Arie: Ich war kaum sechszehn Sommer alt

Synopsis

Theresia K. murders her husband in 1809, is executed.

Digital Object

Image notice

Full size images of all ballad sheets available at the bottom of this page.

Image / Audio Credit

Pamphlet: VD Lied digitalWiener Liedflugschriften. ÖVLA Wien <ÖC Kotek 1240>


Set to tune of...

Ich war kaum sechszehn Sommer alt

Transcription

1. Hört, Freunde! hört mein Abschiedslied
Las un Arrest ich machte,
Da Re?ker von der Welt mich schied,
Das ich mir selbst zubrachte.

2. In dieser grauen Einsamkeit,
Mir selbst nun überlassen,
Muß ich des Rerkers Bitterkeit
Ertragen ganz gelassen.

3. Als ich noch dreyzehn Jahre alt,
Lebt’ ich in Jugendfreuden,
Und hüpste froh im grünen Wald,
Mich druckten keine Leiden.

4. Geführt durch meiner Eltern Hand,
War Unschuld meine Zlerde,
Es schmückte meinen Jugendstand
Nur Tugend, die ich führte.

5. Mit Jahren wuchs auch Leidenschaft,
Die mich zu Sünd verführte,
Daß ich durch ihre Wirkungstraft
Mich manchmal schwer verirrte.

6. Ich gab auf keine Lehren acht,
Die mir die Eltern gaben,
Und so fiel ich oft unbedacht
In Schlund, den Sünden graben,

7. Wie tief der Mensch nun fallen kann,
Der von der Tugend weichet,
Sey klar und deutlich jedermann
Mein Beyspiel dargereichet.

8. Seht Freunde! seht mein Elend an,
So schwer hab’ich gefehlet,
Weil ich nun statt der Tugendbahn
Das Laster hab gewählet.

9. Gemordet habe ich sogar
Den Mann, der mich geliebet,
Und der nur stets beforget war,
Daß er mich nicht beteübet.

10. Die That fühl ich nua Zentnerschwer,
Die ich begangen habe,
Weil ich geschäzet hab nicht mehr,
Sein’ mir ertheilte Gabe.

11. Den Tod, der mir bestimmet ist,
Leid ich nunmehr geduldig!
Denn jeder Mensch als mein Mitschrift
Bekennt mich dessen schuldig!

12. Ich scheide nun aus dieser Welt,
Auf der ich schwer gefehlet,
Zum Beyspeil bleibe aufgestellt
Mein Strafe unverhehlet!

13. Verlaßt in eurem Leben nicht
Den Tugendweg zu wandeln,
Und denkt allzet an eure Pflicht
Nach dem Gefez zu handeln!

14. Bleibt Gott und eurem Fürsten treu
In eurem ganzen Leben
Sonst reißt ever Glück entzwey,
Das Gott euch hat gegeben.

15. Gebt jener Stimme stets Gehör,
Die euch zum Guten leitet,
Damit euch werde mehr und mehr
Der Guadenweg bereitet.

16. Und so vermehret jederzeit
Dein Eifer, gut zu handeln,
Versäumet kein’ Gelegenheit
Als wahrer Christ zu wandeln!

17. Dann mag er kommen, wann er will,
Der Tod mit seinen Pfeilen,
Erhalten werd’t ihr stets das Ziel
In’s Himmelreich zu eilen.

Crime(s)

murder

Gender

Date

Printing Location

n.l.
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1115 <![CDATA["A New Love Song, Only Ha' Pence A Piece" <br /> Series: Cries of London]]> 2020-01-08T14:19:19+11:00

Title

"A New Love Song, Only Ha' Pence A Piece"
Series: Cries of London

Description

Plate 11, a ballad seller with strip ballads, selling to two men, around them are two women with a child, and a small boy feeding a dog.

Creator

Francis Wheatley
Print made by: Anthony Cardon
Published by: Colnaghi

Source

British Museum

Date

1796

Original Format

Print on paper

Physical Dimensions

Height: 420 millimetres
Width: 320 millimetres
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/834 <![CDATA[[...] / For which fact, he, his wife, and the other woman, were executed at Lanceston, last Lent Assizes, [...] ]]> 2020-01-08T14:27:27+11:00

Title

[...] / For which fact, he, his wife, and the other woman, were executed at Lanceston, last Lent Assizes, [...]

Subtitle

in chaines neere vnto the place where the murder was done.

Digital Object

Image / Audio Credit

Magdalene College - Pepys Library, Shelfmark: Pepys Ballads 1.360-361; EBBA 20169

Set to tune of...

The Ladies Daughter, also known as Bonny Nell

Transcription

A Cruell Cornish Murder,
I briefely will declare,
at your attention further, my Story wondrous rare,
[A]nd doe not thinke tis fayned, because it seemeth strange,
What hath not Satan gained, when men from God doe range?
[...]t Crowen in that County, an old blind man doth dwell,
Who by good peoples bounty, did live indifferent well,
By name he's ca'ld Carnehewall , his house stood all alone,
Where [ke]pt this d[ee]d so cruell, the like was scarce ere knowne.
He had a proper Damsell that liv'd with him, his daughter,
To whom some suiters came still, and in true wedlocke sought her,
Because the newes was bruited, how that the blind man would,
Though he were poore reputed) give forty pounds in gold.
Oh, then bewitching money, what mischiefe dost thou cause,
Thou mak'st men dote upon thee, contrary to Gods Lawes.
What Murder is so hainous, but thou canst find out those,
Tha[t] willingly for gaine thus, will venter life to lose.
Nay often soule and body, as in this Story rare,
By the sufferance of God, I will punctually declare:
The fame of this mans riches, a Vagrant chanc't to heare,
In haste his fingers itches, away the same to beare.
This bloody murderous Villaine, whose fact all manhood shames,
Did live long time by stealing, his name was Walter James ,
Who with his wife, and one more yong woman, and a boy,
Three Innocents in purple gore, did cruelly distroy.
The twenty sixth of July , when it was almost night,
These wanderers unruly, on this lone house did light,
The old blind man was then abroad, and none but his old wife,
And a little Girle, ith' house abode, whom they depriv'd of life,
At first they ask'd for Vittle: quoth she, with all my heart,
Although I have but little, of that you shall have part;
He swore he must have money, alas, here's none she sed;
His heart then being stony, he straight cut off her head.

And then he tooke her G[irl child?] about some seven yeer[s old?]
Which he (oh monster [revil'd?)] by both the heeles did [hold?]

And beate her braines o[n the bed?]
oh barbarous cruelty,
The like of this I never [read?] in any history.

When they those two ha[d murder'd?] and tane what they de[sired?]
Like people fully [...], with joy, they sate by t[he fire?]

And tooke Tobacco mer[rily?] without all feare or dr[ead]
Knowing no house nor to[...] and while these two l[ay dead?]

In came the blind mans d[aughter] who had beene workin[g ?]
And seeing such a slaught[er] she wondrously was s[...]

No marvell, when her M[other?]
lay headlesse on the floor
Her zeale she could not [smother?] but running out oth' doo[r]

His Sword which lay ot[...] with her she tooke, an[...]
As fast as she was able,
she ran to call some folk[...]
To come and see the murd[er?] but after her he stept,
And ere she went much fur[ther]
he did her intercept.
[...]
[...] (oh stony-hearted wretch)
And into th' house he brought her: (what sighes alas I fetch,
To thinke upon this Tragedy) for he with mischeife stor'd,
Cut off her head most bloodily, with th' piece oth' broken Sword.
Thus did three harmlesse innocents
by one vile Caitiffes hand
With both the counsell and consents, oth' woman of his band:
Their heads and bodies laid they all very close together;
And being gone a little way, they did at last consider,
That if the house were burned,
the murder might be hid,
With that they backe returned, and as they thought, they did,
Setting the house on fire, which burned till next day,
Full many did admire,
as they went on the way.
These murtherers suspected that people would have thought,
Those three ith house enclosed, unto their deaths were brought,
By accident of fire, but God did then declare
His power [...] let's admire his wondrous workes most rare.
The murdered corps remained, as if no fire had beene,
Their clothes with blood besmeared, not burnt, as might be seene:
The leg and arme oth' Maiden, were only burnt in sunder,
Full many people said then, ith' middest of their wonder.
That surely there were murdered, by some that robd them had,
And presently twas ordered, that for this deed so bad,
All Vagrants on suspicion,
should apprehended be,
And in this inquisition, one happened to see,
Some clothes upon the parties, that from this house we[re] tane
And some before a Justice, the little boy told plaine,
All things before that passed: also the boy did say,
James was ith mind to kill him, lest he should all betray,
They taken were at Meriwicke , forty five miles, or more,
From Crowen where the murth[er]er was about a moneth before, Where in the Jayle they lay,
Untill the Lend Assize did come, which tooke their lives away[.]
The little Boy was quitted,
and sent unto the Parish,
Where he was borne, well fitted,
with clothes and food, to cherish
Him, as he ought with honesty and leaves his wandering trade:
The other three were doom'd to dye, on that which he had said.
But Walter James denyed, that ere he did that act,
For swearing (till he dyed, and when he dy'd) that fact
His wife at her last ending, confest the bloody guilt,
So monstrously offending, when so much blood was spilt.
The other woman after confest more plainely all:
James tooke his death with laughter and nere to God did call:
Thus as he liv'd a reprobate, and did God great reject,
His soule with Christ bought at deare rate, in death he did neglect.
He was hang'd dead at Lancestone , among the rest that di'd,
Then carried where the deed was done, and by the high-way side,
He hangeth, for example, in chaines now at this time,
Thus have I shew'd the ample discourse of this foule crime.
Objection may be framed, where was the old blind man:
Whom I have never named since when I first beganne.
He was abroad ith' interim, when this mischance befell,
Or else the like had hapt to him, but he is living still.
And goes about the Country, to begge, as he before
Did use, among the Gentry, and now his need is more.
All you that are kind Christians, thinke on this bloody deed.
And crave the Lords assistance, by it to take good heed.

The names of certaine eminent men of the
Countrey, for confirmation of the verity
of this tragicall Story.
John Albon. John Coade.
William Beauchamp. Ezekiel Treureu.
William Lanyon. John Blithe.
William Randall. John Treyeene.

Composer of Ballad

Martin Parker

Method of Punishment

Hanging in chains

Crime(s)

murder

Gender

Date

Printing Location

London Printed for F. Coules
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/870 <![CDATA[[...] Being a sad and true Relation of the Apprehension, Tryal, Confession, Condemnation, and Execution of the two barbarous and bloody Murtherers, ]]> 2020-01-08T14:54:45+11:00

Title

[...] Being a sad and true Relation of the Apprehension, Tryal, Confession, Condemnation, and Execution of the two barbarous and bloody Murtherers,

Subtitle

who basely and unawares killed a worthy Knight of the North Country as he was going down to the Waterside; not giving them the least abuse, for which cruel and inhumane action they were both hanged in Fleet-Street, near White-Fryers, 22 of Octo. 1675.

Digital Object

Image / Audio Credit

Magdalene College - Pepys Library, Shelfmar: Pepys Ballads 2.144; EBBA 20762

Set to tune of...

Transcription

ALL hearts that ever yet did bleed,
For any barbarous cruel deed;
All tyey that ever yet did mourn,
Now into floods your sorrows turn:
No tongue such cruelty e're told,
As I to you shall here unfold;
If that my trembling Pen will write,
Or my astonish'd mind indite:

The Cry of blood will reach the skie,
And the bloody-thirsty man shall dye.

Of all the murthers which are known,
Compar'd to this I hear of none;
Those which such bloody acts commit,
Expect that they shall gain by it;
But these the Devil did engage
To murder in a furious rage;
No profit this base act could bring,
Nor no abuse did cause this thing,

The cry of blood, etc.

A worthy Knight out of the North,
O pitty 'twas he e're came forth;
To London came to see his Friends,
Not thinking he was nigh his end:
But back he never did return,
Which caus'd his own dear wife to mourn:
Sir Richard so they did him call,
Pray listen how he came to fall.

The cry of blood, etc.

He had now in his company,
One that did serve him formerly,
Who walk'd out with him up and down,
So long as he stay'd in the Town:
But as they walkt the streets one day,
They met two Persons as they say;
Of good extract, so that for shame,
I shall not dare to tell their name:

The cry of blood, etc.

The second Part, To the same Tune.

The man which was with th' Knight they knew,
Then to a Tavern they must go;
The Knight also to th' Tavern went,
Which made him sorely to repent:
But e're that they did make an end,
These Hectors quarrell'd with his friend,
'Twas in White-Fryers they did drink,
He little of his death did think.

The cry of blood, etc.

Sir Richard willing to appease,
And willing that their rage should cease,
The Reckoning paid as I hear say,
And with his friend did go away:
They were not gone but little space,
But the other two of little grace,
Did follow them, and at one blow,
Did run Sir Richards Body through

The cry of blood, etc.

he being dead they both did flye,
Thinking to shun their destiny;
But all in vain, in Bark-shire they
At Wallingford were forc'd to stay:
To Reding Goal they both were sent,
Such further mischief to prevent;
To New-Gate afterwards were brought,
To suffer for the deed they wrought.

The cry of blood, etc.

At the last Sessions they were try'd,
The bloody deed was not deny'd;
For which they sentenc'd were to dye,
A reward for impiety.
In Fleet-street neer White-Fryers end,
Being near the place they did offend;
They hanged were, which was their due,
Least further mischief they pursue.

The cry of blood, etc.

This was the Murderers just fate,
They both repent when 'twas too late;
Blood cries for vengeance which will come,
And give those bloody men their doom:
For if that such as those should live,
And not for death their death receive,
Those wretches would in fury great
Kill any man they met i'th' street.

The cry of blood, etc.

Let all men therefore have a care,
How that the Devil doth ensnare;
To act such barbarous deeds as those,
Not to the very worst of foes:
If they are wrong'd, the Law will find,
Redress according to their mind;
Which serves such actions to prevent,
Being order'd for the same intent.

The cry of blood, etc.

Let all that hear this be afraid,
And not by Satan be betraid;
For life is sweet, and now we see
Their fury was the death of three:
The Knight did die innocence,
They justly suffer'd for offence:
God grant that their repentance might,
Give to their Souls some sweet delight.

The cry of blood, etc.

Consider well all wicked men,
Fear God, repent, and surely then
He'l keep you from such hanious crimes,
Which rule too much in these our times:
Abstain high drinking, do not swear,
And of bad company be ware;
Seek not in quarrels to contend,
Then blest will be your latter end.

The cry of blood, etc.

Composer of Ballad

W. P.

Method of Punishment

hanging

Crime(s)

murder

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Fleet Street near Whitefriars

Printing Location

Printed for John Hose, over against Stapels-Inn, in Holburn, near Grays-Inn-Lane.

Tune Data

Bleeding Heart is linked to In Crete, which is ultimately derived from Come follow my love (Simpson 1966, pp. 365, 374).
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1262 <![CDATA[[EE]N WARE GESCHIEDENIS te Doornik in Brabant voorgevallen]]> 2021-03-26T09:46:38+11:00

Title

[EE]N WARE GESCHIEDENIS te Doornik in Brabant voorgevallen

Subtitle

hoe een militair, die gecondemneerd was om te sterven, op het oogenblik dat hij zoude doodgeschoten worden, van Z.M. den Koning pardon bekwam; door de trouwe liefde van zijn beminde. Op een Aangename Wys.

Translation: A new song about a true history in which happened in Doornik, Brabant; how a soldier, who was condemned to die, upon the moment that he would be shot dead; of his Royal Highness the King received a Pardon; by the loyal love of his beloved, who had done a prostration for him. On a pleasant tune.

Digital Object

Image notice

Full size images of all song sheets available at the bottom of this page.

Image / Audio Credit

Den Haag KB: Lbl KB Wouters 03075. Nederlandse Liederenbank

Set to tune of...

Op een Aangename Wys

Transcription

1. Lend me your ear; bystanders! worthy friends,
Hear that which recently happened in Doornik,
This true event will make you discover
How drunkenness brings humanity into sorrow,
This painting shows you real life;
How that a virgin saves her lover’s life;
Love makes humanity boldly strive,
Here takes a lad from the grave to the nuptial bed.
 
2. The drunkenness causes many accidents,
She makes a human into a hideous beast,
And can repress a good virtue in the heart;
It has been the misfortune of many a person,
The drunkenness consumes body and soul; 
[It] is rash, and knows no rank nor state;
Such people can learn from this strange case
Of this lad; a Belgian soldier.
 
3. A true Belgian, a young one, will you hear,
Very neat in shape, good-looking in body and limbs.
Who had since long chosen martial service
And amongst his comrades set the gold standard,
He was beloved by his officers,
And comrades, but had a bad fault;
The strong spirits, when he went to celebrate bluntly,
He did a deed which would so sadly grieve him.
 
4. Upon a certain day he moved to his post
He arrived very neat and proper at the Guard;
But left in haste and unpetitioned,
Whilst he thus did not observe duty or the martial discipline,
He swirled and drank, and came back entirely drunk
And arrived lost, late at night,
His head running wild, clothes loose and open,
In short; in a very unsuitable state.
 
5. The Lieutenant, a man of good morals,
Asked this young man very calmly:
How he could transgress his duty so badly?
And have done this bad deed against justice;
A drunk lad, heated by strong spirits,
Gave an angry answer to his officer.
He provoked this gentleman with curses, cursing, stamping,
Making a terrible racket in the Guard.
 
6. He continued on, and became worse over time,[1]
Rashly grabs his officer by his head,
Tears the epaulet boldly from his shoulder,
And appeared frantic, entirely robbed of reason,
The Lieutenant finally becomes tired of it,
After long patience, gave him his punishment;
He drew from leather;[2] and in this anger, hewed
The drunken lad’s left arm off.
 
7. He sobered up out of shock and was bound,
Put in a small room where he bemoaned his deed,
Oh God, he called, forgive me my sins,
Whereto I was reduced by the drunkenness!
The Lieutenant went to make a report,
Of this instance to the General;
He stood abashed of such a strange case;
And instantly formulated a warrant.
 
8. There sat the lad, and continued to bemoan his fate,
The War council rendered his verdict for [his] death,
Then told him that in few days,
[He would] die in the open field by being shot,[3]
My judges! (says this fellow), I am worthy of them,
My sentence I very willingly accept;
The verdict you gave is very justified,
I am not worth it to be in the King’s service.
 
9. This soldier, he had devoted his heart and mind,
And loyal love to a girl,
[Whom] had been courted by him for a long time.
She soon came to hear this sad case,
Her sad eye then shed hot tears,
It sounded like a clap of thunder in her ears,
Her sad soul suffers formidable pains.
 
10. She instantly had a sad plea written,
And threw herself down before the King’s feet,
The good Monarch always wants to remain compassionate
Though does not answer her with much on this occasion,
She returns full of sad mourning thoughts,
Her youthful eye pours many a hot tear;
She suffers full of fear the sleepless nights,
And is affected by hope and fear.
 
11. Now came to meet at the last moment,
That this lad had to suffer his punishment,
Death awaited him with spread jaws,
Every mortal was sympathetic to his fate,
A young man reluctantly treads forward,
The dull drum makes a mournful sound,
His hanging head shows his sorrows,
Whilst his heart keeps expressing sad sighs.
 
12. He came upon the field and says: my comrades!
Fare well eternally; I die entirely prepared;
My bad behaviour also does not deserve mercy,
I bid you farewell to eternity;
Just one request you must promise me,
If you meet my worthy love here
When my death will rob my life,
That you will greet her for the last time in my name.
 
13. Then he kneeled down! The blindfold over his eyes,
The priest has done his final duty,
The platoon (though moved by his fate),
It already aims their guns;
But sees a liaison officer galloping [here],
Calls: halt! Pardon! This young man is free;
Soldiers! Will you appreciate your good Monarch,
His goodness helps this young man out of suffering.
 
14. The joyful cheers rose up to Heaven,
And with applause they call: Long live the King!
The loyal young woman pushes through the busy swarm,
And presses, moved, her lover to her chest,
The General had the priest brought there,
United through matrimony the young pair,
Both their joy knew no limits now,
His coffin became the marriage altar.
 
15. What joy! After so much suffering and objections,
The young man he received a pension;
Which in the future loyally all years
Could support them in domestic life;
Now he thanked his beloved King too;
Especially his beloved young woman,
And tasted then, in his quiet abode,
A true happiness and satisfaction.
 
16. So people see that loyal love can give,
When one is in need and in danger of death,
Love granted this young man life,
And has kept him from an early death,
This young woman is worth to be praised,
Every thinking human honours her in memory,
May love be a leader to this pair,
Preserve them continually from disaster and sadness.

 

Date

Notes

[1] ‘hoe langs hoe stouter’ literally translates to ‘the longer, the worse.’
[2] i.e. unsheathed his sword.
[3] ‘door het lood’ refers to the lead bullet used to shoot him in the open field.
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1294 <![CDATA[¶A balade agaynst malycyous Sclaunderers.<br /> ]]> 2021-06-12T11:30:46+10:00

Title

¶A balade agaynst malycyous Sclaunderers.

Synopsis

A response ballad to 'A newe ballade made of Thomas Crumwell' which tries to rehabilitate the fallen favourite, while being careful not to question the king's judgment. The author of this ballad and the previous one produced so many vitriolic ballads on the subject that they were ultimately imprisoned for a few weeks.

Digital Object


Image notice

Full size image/s available at the bottom of this page.

Image / Audio Credit

Society of Antiquaries Library, Early English Books, 1475-1640 (STC), Reel position 1861:04, EEBO link (institutional login required). Audio recording by Jenni Hyde.

Set to tune of...

Transcription

¶Heue aud how rumbelow thou arte to blame
Trolle into the right way agayne for shame.

TRolle into the way / trolle in and retrolle
Small charyte and lesse wytte is in thy nolle
Thus for to rayle vpon a christen soule
Wherfore men thynke the worthy blame
Trolle into the way agayne for shame.

¶Thou makest a trollyng hyther and thyther
Somtyme thou trollest thou canst not tell whyther
But if all thy trollynges were gathered togyther
Thy trollynge might trym the and tourne the to blame
Wherfore trolle thou nowe into the way for shame

❧Although lord Crumwell a traytour was
yet dare I saye that the kynge of his grace
Hath forgyuen him that gret trespas
To tayle than on dead men / thou arte to blame
Trolle now into the way agayne for shame.

❧In that that he the law hath offended
By the lawe he is iustly condempned
This mortall lyfe / full godly he ended
Wherfore to rayle thus / thou art to blame
Trolle into the way agayne for shame.

¶For all his offences in euery thyng
He asked god mercy and grace of the kynge
And of all the wyde world / for his trāsgressyng
Thou nor no man can say nay to the same
Trolle into the way than agayne for shame

☜Thou takest his treason for thy subtyll defence
Which nowe is departed and gone from hence
But men spye the pricke of all thy pretence
Thy owne sayenges folowyng declare the same
Trolle into the way / for fere or for shame

¶Thou sayest he was with the church to quycke
Fauouryng none but of the new trycke
But nowe thou spurnest agaynst the prycke
And thou of force / must confesse the same
Trolle into the way agayne for shame

☜For bysshops haue now as they haue had
If preestes wold complayne / they were to mad
Wherfore thou apperest to be a popysshe lad
For vsyng thy popery / thou arte to blame
Trolle into the way agayne for shame.

❧For here thou vpholdest both monkes and fryers
Nunnes and noughty packes / and lewed lowsy lyers
The bysshop of Rome / with all his rotten squyers
To buylde such a church / thou arte moche to blame
Trolle nowe into the way agayne for shame.

❧May not men thynke now in the meane ceason
That thou hast deserued by ryght and by reason
As moch as he hath done for clokynge thy treason
For he was a traytour / and thou arte the same
Trolle away papyst / god gyue the shame.

¶The sacrament of the aulter / that is most hyest
Crumwell beleued it to be the very body of Chriest
Wherfore in thy writyng / on him thou lyest
For the kynge & his counsell wyll wytnesse the same
Trolle into the waye / than agayne for shame

☜Although that he of byrth were but bace
yet was he set vp of the kynges noble grace
Wherby it appereth that thou woldest deface
The kynges royall power / dispysyng the same
Trolle away traytour / god gyue the shame.

¶Is it thy facyon thus craftely to saye?
Let vs for the kynge / and his lordes praye
And than at the last / to trolle them awaye
With heue and how rumbelow / thy wordes be the same
Both written and printed / to thy great shame?

☜Hast thou no man els / thou dronken soll
But the kynge and his nobles / away for to troll
It were ynough for to cost the thy poll
Both thyne and all other / that wold do the same
Trolle away traytoure / god gyue the shame.

¶A prety wyse printer belyke he was
Which of his printyng / so lytell doth pas
To print such pylde poetry / as this same was
Lyke maker / lyke printer / two trolles of the game
A payre of good papystes / ye be payne of shame

☜God send all traytours their hole desa•tes
God send small toye / to all popysshe hartes
And euyll hap to as many as do take their partes
God send their purpose neuer to frame
But trolle them away with sorow and shame.

¶I pray god thou be not fownde one of those
That peruarteth the people / as I suppose
From redyng of gods worde / that goodly rose
Where the counsell commaundeth to occupy the same
Thou traytor allurest them this fayre floure to defame.

❧God preserue and kepe the kynges noble grace
With prince Edwarde his sonne / to succede in his place
God kepe them amonge vs / longe tyme and space
Let all his true subiectes / say Amen to the same
And they that wold otherwyse / god send them shame.

¶Finis.

Composer of Ballad

William Gray

Method of Punishment

beheading

Crime(s)

treason

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Tower Hill

Printing Location

☜Prentyd at London in Lombard strete nere
vnto the Stockes market at the sygne
of the Mermayde by Iohn
Gough.

Cum preuilegio Ad imprimendum solum

O domine in uirtute tua letabitur Rex, &c.

Original located in Antiquarian Society, in a large folio Collection of Proclamations, &c
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1206 <![CDATA[<em>Barzelletta</em>]]> Barzelletta (lit. "jest") was a popular verse form used by frottola composers in Italy in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. It is generally trochaic, with eight syllables per line. The barzelletta consists of two sections: a reprisa which is four rhyming lines (abba or abab), a stanza, and a volta. The barzelletta tends to be lively and dance-like, with heavy accents on cadences (Wikipedia).]]> 2020-01-08T16:40:08+11:00

Title

Barzelletta

Description

Barzelletta (lit. "jest") was a popular verse form used by frottola composers in Italy in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. It is generally trochaic, with eight syllables per line. The barzelletta consists of two sections: a reprisa which is four rhyming lines (abba or abab), a stanza, and a volta. The barzelletta tends to be lively and dance-like, with heavy accents on cadences (Wikipedia).
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1175 <![CDATA[<em>Bleeding Heart</em>]]> 2019-01-19T14:21:26+11:00

Title

Bleeding Heart

About:

Bleeding Heart was often used for ballads related to children. It is linked to In Crete, which is ultimately derived from Come follow my love (Simpson 1966, pp. 365, 374). 
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1149 <![CDATA[<em>Der Lindenschmid</em>]]> 2021-03-26T14:12:14+11:00

Title

Der Lindenschmid

About:

German traditional

6/8: | d | d C | C d | D | C | d | a | a d | d | C | d |
4/4: | a | d G |6/8:|G C | d

Transcription

Es ist nit lang, dass es geschach,
dass man den lindenschmid reiten sach
auf einem hohen rosse,
Er reit den Rheinstrom auf und ab
hat sein gar wol genossen, ja genossen. *
»Frisch her, ir lieben gsellen mein!
es muss sich nur gewaget sein,
wagen das tut gewinnen!
Wir wöllen reiten tag und nacht,
bis wir ein beut gewinnen.«
Dem marggrafen von Baden kamen neue mär,
wie man im ins gleit gefallen wär, *
das tet in ser verdrießen;
Wie bald er junker Caspar schreib:
er solt im ein reislein dienen. *
Junker Caspar zog dem beurlein ein kappen an, *
er schickt in allzeit vorne dran,
wol auf die freie straßen:
Ob er den edlen Lindenschmid fünd,
denselben solt er verraten.
Das beurlein schiffet über Rein,
er keret zu Frankfurt ins wirtshaus ein:
»wirt! haben wir nichts zu essen?
Es kommen drei wägen, seind wol beladen,
von Frankfurt aus der messen.«
Der wirt der sprach dem beurlein zu:
»ja wein und brot hab ich genug,
im stall da sten drei rosse,
Die seind dem edlen Lindenschmid,
er nert sich auf freier straßen.« *
Das beurlein dacht in seinem mut:
die sache wird noch werden gut,
die feind hab ich vernommen;
Wie bald er junker Caspar schreib,
dass er solt eilends kommen!

Der Lindenschmid der het einen son,
der solt den rossen das futter tun,
den habern tet er schwingen:
»Stet uf, herzliebster vatter mein!
ich hör die harnisch klingen.«
Der Lindenschmid lag hinterm tisch und schlief,
sein son der tat so manchen rief,
der schlaf hat in bezwungen.
»Ste auf, herzliebster vatter mein,
dein verräter ist schon kommen.«
Junker Caspar zu der stuben eintrat,
der Lindenschmid von herzen ser erschrack.
»Lindenschmid gib dich gefangen!
Zu Baden an dem galgen hoch,
daran so soltu hangen.«
Der Lindenschmid war ein freier reutersmann,
wie bald er zu der klingen sprang:
»wir wöllen erst ritterlich fechten!«
Es waren der bluthund also vil,
die schlugen in zu der erden.
»Kan und mag es dann nit anders gesein,
so bitt ich umb den liebsten sone mein,
auch um meinen reutersjungen.
Und haben sie jemands leid getan,
darzu hab ich sie gezwungen.«
Junker Caspar der sprach nein darzu:
»das kalb muss entgelten der ku,
es sol dir nicht gelingen,
Zu Baden in der werden statt *
muss im sein haupt abspringen.«
Sie wurden alle drei gen Baden gebracht,
sie saßen nit lenger denn eine nacht;
wol zu derselben stunde.
Da ward der Lindenschmid gericht,
sein son und der reutersjunge, ja junge.
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1165 <![CDATA[<em>Es ist gewißlich an der Zeit</em>]]> 2020-01-08T16:41:47+11:00

Title

Es ist gewißlich an der Zeit

Creator

Johann Sebastian Bach

Transcription

1 Es ist gewißlich an der Zeit,
daß Gottes Sohn wird kommen
in seiner großen Herrlichkeit,
zu richten Bös und Frommen.
Dann wird das Lachen werden theur,
wenn Alles wird vergehn in Feur,
wie Petrus davon schreibet.

2 Posaunen wird man hören gehn
an aller Welt ihr Ende;
darauf bald werden auferstehn
all Todten gar behende.
Die aber noch das Leben han,
die wird der Herr von Stunden an
verwandeln und verneuen.

3 Darnach wird man ablesen bald,
ein Buch, darin geschrieben
was alle Menschen, Jung und Alt.
auf Erden hab'n getrieben.
Da denn gewiß bald Jedermann
wird hören, was er hat gethan
in seinem ganzen Leben.

4 O weh demselben, welcher hat
des Herren Wort verachtet
und nur auf Erden früh und spat
nach großem Gut getrachtet,
Er wird führwahr gar kahl bestehn,
und mit dem Satan müssen gehn
von Christo in die Hölle.

5 O Jesu, hilf zu selben Zeit,
von wegen deiner Wunden,
daß ich im Buch der Seligkeit
werd eingezeichnet funden.
Daran ich denn auch zweifle nicht,
denn du hast ja den Feind gericht't,
und meine Schuld bezahlet.

6 Derhalben mein Fürsprecher sei,
wenn du nun wirst erscheinen,
und ließ mich aus dem Buche frei,
darinnen stehn die Deinen,
auf daß ich, sammt den Brüdern mein,
mit dir geh in den Himmel ein,
den du uns hast erworben.

7 O Jesu Christ, du machst es lang
mit deinem jüngsten Tage,
den Menschen wird auf Erden bang,
von wegen vieler Plage;
komm doch, komm doch, du Richter groß,
und mach uns in Genaden los
von allem Uebel. Amen!
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1134 <![CDATA[<em>Fortune my Foe</em>]]> 2020-01-08T16:39:02+11:00

Title

Fortune my Foe

Digital Object

About:

This 16th century Irish tune was used, according to Flood (1906), in 1576 for a ballad on the death of a great patron of music, Walter Devereux, Earl of Essex, in Dublin, entitled "Welladay, or Essex's Last Goodnight." The tune appears in several early collections, including William Ballet's Lute Book (1593), Fitzwilliam Virginal Book (where the setting is by the famous English composer William Byrde {1528-1625}), and William Foster's Virginal Book (1624). It was licensed as a ballad in 1565-6 and is mentioned in Shakespeare's The Merry Wives of Windsor (Act II, Scene 3, where Falstaff says, "I see what thou wert, if Fortune thy foe were not, Nature thy friend."). In fact, various songs and ballads came to be sung to the tune, including an early ballad "Titus Andronicus Complaint," on which Shakespeare founded his play, and most of these songs seem to have been about themes of gloom, misery, and death; Chappell (1859) says "Indeed, its mournful character was so thoroughly established that none but the most lugubrious matter seems ever to have been sung to it." The tune appears as "Farewell, Fair Armelia" which appears in Luke Wadding's (the Bishop of Ferns) A Pious Garland of Godly Songs for the Solace of his Friends and Neighbors in their Afflictions, 1680. Early references, according to Flood, also date from 1649-50 from a "contemporary chronicle" which described Irish pipers attached to Lord Inchiquin's army which drew off from Naas to the march of "Fortune My Foe." In 1676 the tune (as it appears in Playford's Choice Airs and Songs) was used by Irishman Thomas Duffet for (one) setting of his lyric "Since Coelia's My Foe" (another setting is set to "Limerick's Lamentation"). "'Fortune My Foe' was sung and played so frequently at public executions that it became known as 'The Hanging Tune'...'Fortune My Foe' originated in Ireland. The setting written here is believed to be the earliest version" (Williamson, 1976, p.39).

Transcription

Fortune, my foe, why dost thou frown on me?
And will thy favors never lighter be?
Wilt thou, I say, forever breed my pain?
And wilt thou not restore my joys again?

In vain I sigh, in vain I wail and weep,
In vain my eyes refrain from quiet sleep;
In vain I she'd my tears both night and day;
In vain my love my sorrows do bewray.

Then will I leave my love in Fortune's hands,
My dearest love, in most unconstant bands,
And only serve the sorrows due to me:
Sorrow, hereafter, thou shalt my Mistress be.

Ah, silly Soul art thou so sore afraid?
Mourn not, my dear, nor be not so dismayed.
Fortune cannot, with all her power and skill,
Enforce my heart to think thee any ill.

Live thou in bliss, and banish death to Hell;
All careful thoughts see thou from thee expel:
As thou dost wish, thy love agrees to be.
For proof thereof, behold, I come to thee.

Die not in fear, not live in discontent;
Be thou not slain where blood was never meant;
Revive again: to faint thou hast no need.
The less afraid, the better thou shalt speed.

Sources:

Flood, W, 1906, A History of Irish Music, Brown and Nolan Limited, Dublin, pp. 218-219.
Williamson, R, 1976, English, Welsh, Scottish and Irish Fiddle Tunes, Oak Publications, Michigan.
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1160 <![CDATA[<em>Fualdès</em>]]> 2020-12-17T13:52:13+11:00

Title

Fualdès

Creator

Anonymous (traditional)

Digital Object

Transcription

Écoutez, peuples de France,
Du royaume de Chili,
Peuples de Russie aussi,
Du cap de Bonne Espérance,
Le mémorable accident
D'un crime très conséquent.

Capitale du Rouergue,
Vieille ville de Rhodez,
Tu vis de sanglants forfaits
À quatre pas de L'Ambergue,
Faits par des cœurs aussi durs
Comme tes antiques murs.

De très honnête lignée
Vincent Bastide et Jausion,
Pour la malédiction
De cette ville indignée ;
Car de Rodez les habitants
Ont presque tous des sentiments.

Bastide le gigantesque,
Moins deux pouces ayant six pieds,
Fut un scélérat fieffé
Et même sans politesse,
Et Jausion l'insidieux
Sanguinaire, avaricieux.

Ils méditent la ruine
D'un magistral très prudent,
Leur ami, leur confident ;
Mais ne pensant pas le crime,
II ne se méfiait pas
Qu'on complotait son trépas.
...

Listen, people of France,
Of the kingdom of Chili
People of Russia also,
Of the Cape of Good Hope,
To the memorable accident of
a very important crime.

Capital of Rouergue
Old town of Rhodez
You see the bloody crimes
Four paces from the Ambergue
Committed by hearts as hard
As your ancient walls

Bastide the giant
Less than two inches under six feet
Was an incorrigible villain
Without even courtesy
And the insidious Jausion
Bloody, greedy.

“Since without any good reason
You are killing me, my friends,
To die mercifully,
Is for me impossible.
Oh! Let me in this place
Make my peace with God.”

That terrifying giant
Answered him roughly:
“In a minute you can
Make your peace with the Devil,”
Then with a great blow
He sliced him across the neck.
...

 

]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1295 <![CDATA[<em>Half Hannikin</em>]]> 2021-06-17T10:19:26+10:00

Title

Half Hannikin

Digital Object


About:

HALFE HANNIKIN. AKA – "Huff Hannekin." English, Country Dance Tune (6/8 time). C Mixolydian (Chappell, Merryweather, Raven): G Major (Barnes, Sharp). Standard tuning (fiddle). ABAB (Sharp): ABC (Chappell): AAB (Barnes): AABB (Merryweather, Raven). The tune was first published by John Playford in his English Dancing Master of 1650-51, though Chappell (1859) finds the air mentioned in Sir H. Herbert's office-book of revels and plays performed at Whitehall during the Christmas season, 1622–23. Confirming that the tune is older than Playford is a recorded mention that on Sunday, Jan. 19th, 1623, Ben Jonson's masque Time Vindicated was performed, and:

The Prince did lead the measures with the French Ambassador's wife... the measures, braules, corrantos, and galliards, being ended, the masquers, with the ladies, did daunce two countrey dances, namely, 'The Soldier's Marche' and 'Huff Hammukin.' 

The title “Halfe Hannikin” is possibly a corruption of  honig-huchen, or ‘sweet cake’, adopted into English along with other German and Dutch words in the 16th century. Alternatively, ‘Hannikin’ may possibly derive from honniken, used in Thomas Dekker’s The Shoemaker’s Holiday(1599, Act IV, sc. 5), used to mean a ‘stupid fellow’ or ‘needy fellow’ [Wells, “Playford Tunes and Broadside Ballads,” Journal of the English Folk Dance and Song Society, vol. 3, no. 4 (Dec. 1939), pp. 259–273]. Graham Christian (2015) says "Hankin, Hannikin, Mamukin, Hanskin, and Hansken were all variants of a name of Dutch origin meaning "Little John" or "son of John" (Jo-hannes-kin), and in England it became a teasing name for a fool or clown, sometimesas "Hankin Booby"." He concludes that "Hankin [Hannikin] Booby" may have been the name of the dance or tune or both, and believes the first word of the title ('halfe') is a form of "huff", which at that time meant to swagger. Thus the instead of a half- of something, the complete title meant to 'swagger like a buffoon', fitting with the dance which is "an unusal single mixer throwing all the dancers into one merry brew together" [Christian, A Playford Assembly, 2015, p. 43].

Sources:

Barnes (English Country Dance Tunes), 1986.
Chappell (Popular Music of the Olden Time, vol. 1), 1859; p. 302.
Merryweather (Tunes for English Bagpipes), 1989; p. 40. Raven (English Country Dance Tunes), 1984; p. 41 (a facsimile copy of the Playford original).
Sharp (Country Dance Tunes, Set 7), 1916; no. 16, pp. 17–18.
The Traditional Tune Archive
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1168 <![CDATA[<em>Hilff Gott daß mir gelinge</em>]]> 2020-01-08T16:42:23+11:00

Title

Hilff Gott daß mir gelinge

Creator

Heinrich Müller
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1186 <![CDATA[<em>Just before the battle, Mother</em>]]> 2020-01-08T14:16:30+11:00

Title

Just before the battle, Mother

Creator

George F. Root

Digital Object

Transcription

Just before the battle, mother,
I am thinking most of you,
While upon the field we're watching
With the enemy in view.
Comrades brave are 'round me lying,
Filled with thoughts of home and God
For well they know that on the morrow,
Some will sleep beneath the sod.

CHORUS:
Farewell, mother, you may never
Press me to your heart again,
But, oh, you'll not forget me, mother,
If I'm numbered with the slain.

Oh, I long to see you, mother,
And the loving ones at home,
But I'll never leave our banner,
Till in honor I can come.
Tell the traitors all around you
That their cruel words we know,
In every battle kill our soldiers
By the help they give the foe.

CHORUS:
Farewell, mother, you may never
Press me to your heart again,
But, oh, you'll not forget me, mother,
If I'm numbered with the slain.

Hark! I hear the bugles sounding,
'Tis the signal for the fight,
Now, may God protect us, mother,
As He ever does the right.
Hear the "Battle-Cry of Freedom,"
How it swells upon the air,
Oh, yes, we'll rally 'round the standard,
Or we'll perish nobly there.

CHORUS:
Farewell, mother, you may never
Press me to your heart again,
But, oh, you'll not forget me, mother,
If I'm numbered with the slain.

Lyrics are in the public domain.
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1167 <![CDATA[<em>Kommt her zu mir spricht Gottes Sohn</em>]]> Lindenschmied-Weise (either ‘Mr. Lindenschmied’s melody’ or ‘the tune sung by the blacksmith who has his shop next to the linden or lime tree’). This melody can be traced back to south Germany around 1490. The melody later appears in 1530 with the text by Georg Grünwald as a broadside entitled Ain schöns newes Christlichs Lyed (“A nice, new Christian song”) published within the circle of the Mennonites or Baptists.]]> 2021-03-26T15:31:50+11:00

Title

Kommt her zu mir spricht Gottes Sohn

Description

This melody is a contrafact of the secular song Es ist nicht lang, daß es geschah (“It’s not long ago that this happened”) also known or identified as the Lindenschmied-Weise (either ‘Mr. Lindenschmied’s melody’ or ‘the tune sung by the blacksmith who has his shop next to the linden or lime tree’). This melody can be traced back to south Germany around 1490. The melody later appears in 1530 with the text by Georg Grünwald as a broadside entitled Ain schöns newes Christlichs Lyed (“A nice, new Christian song”) published within the circle of the Mennonites or Baptists.

Creator

Georg Grünwald

Transcription

1. „Kommt her zu mir“, spricht Gottes Sohn,
„All die ihr seid beschweret nun,
Mit Sünden hart beladen,
Ihr Jungen, Alten, Frau und Mann,
Ich will euch geben, was ich han,
Will heilen euren Schaden.

2. Mein Joch ist sanft, leicht meine Last,
Und jeder, der sich willig faßt,
Der wird der Höll entrinnen.
Ich helf ihm tragen, was zu schwer;
Mit meiner Hilf und Kraft wird er
Das Himmelreich gewinnen.“

3. Gern wollt die Welt auch selig sein,
Wenn nur nicht wär die schwere Pein,
Die alle Christen leiden.
Nun aber kann's nicht anders sein;
Darum ergeb sich nur darein,
Wer ewig' Pein will meiden.

4. Heut ist der Mensch schön, jung und rank;
Sieh, morgen ist er schwach und krank,
Bald muß er auch gar sterben.
Gleich wie die Blumen auf dem Feld,
Also wird diese schöne Welt
In allem Nu verderben.

5. Die Welt erzittert ob dem Tod;
Liegt einer in der letzten Not,
Dann will er gleich fromm werden.
Einer schafft' dies, der andre das,
Sein arme Seel er ganz vergaß,
Dieweil er lebt' auf Erden.
6. Und wenn er nicht mehr leben kann,
Hebt eine große Klag er an,
Will sich nun Gott ergeben.
Ich fürcht fürwahr, die göttlich Gnad,
Die er allzeit verspottet hat,
Wird schwerlich ob ihm scheben.

7. Dem Reichen hilft doch nicht sein Gut,
Dem Jungen nicht ein stolzer Mut,
Er muß aus diesem Maien;
Wenn einer hätt die ganze Welt,
Silber und Gold und alles Geld,
Doch muß er an den Reihen*.

8. Dem G'lehrten hilft doch nicht sein Kunst;
Die Weltlich Pracht ist gar umsonst:
Wir müssen alle sterben.
Wer sich in Christo nicht bereit',
Weil er lebt in der Gnadenzeit,
Ewig muß er verderben.

9. Höret und merkt, ihr lieben Kind,
Die jetzo Gott ergeben sind:
Laßt euch die Müh nicht reuen,
Halt' fest am heilgen Gotteswort;
Das ist eur Trost und höchster Hort,
Gott wird euch schon erfreuen.

10. Und was der ewig gütig Gott
In seinem Wort versprochen hat,
Geschworn bei seinem Namen,
Das hält und gibt er g'wiß fürwahr.
Der helf uns zu der Engel Schar
Durch Jesum Christum. Amen.
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1163 <![CDATA[<em>Ottava Rima</em>]]> 2020-01-08T16:41:12+11:00

Title

Ottava Rima

Description

Ottava rima is a rhyming stanza form of Italian origin. Originally used for long poems on heroic themes, of eight 11-syllable lines, with a rhyme scheme of ABABABCC. It originated in the late 13th and early 14th centuries and was developed by Tuscan poets for religious verse and drama and in troubadour songs. Its earliest known use is in the writings of Giovanni Boccaccio.
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1174 <![CDATA[<em>Packington's Pound</em>]]> 2019-01-18T09:53:40+11:00

Title

Packington's Pound

About:

Packington's Pound is an English Broadside Ballad that dates back, roughly, to the last quarter of the 17th century. It is most recognized by its tune, and, in fact, more tunes were set to "Packington's Pound" than ballads named "Packington's Pound." Claude Simpson in "The British Broadside Ballad and its Music" writes: "This [Packington's Pound] is the most popular single tune associated with ballads before 1700." Wikipedia.
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1135 <![CDATA[<em>Row Well Ye Marriners</em>]]> 2020-01-08T14:18:04+11:00

Title

Row Well Ye Marriners

Digital Object

About:

English, Country Dance Tune. The air was published in John Playford's English Dancing Master (London, 1651, and all subsequent editions), Thomas Robinson's Schoole of Musicke (1603), and D'Urfey's Pills to Purge Melancholy (1707). The original ballad, now lost, appears in the registers of the Stationers' Company as early as 1565-6. There are some similarities with the Welsh tune “Meillionen,” of more recent vintage.

"Row Well Ye Mariners" was one of the country dance tunes recorded by the Victor band in 1915 at Camden, New Jersey, arranged by English folk song and dance collector Cecil Sharp, who was visiting America at the time. Sharp received "session supervisor" credits for the recording.
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1170 <![CDATA[<em>Russell's Farewell</em>]]> 2020-01-08T16:42:45+11:00

Title

Russell's Farewell
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1208 <![CDATA[<em>Tender Hearts of London City</em>]]> 2020-01-08T16:44:40+11:00

Title

Tender Hearts of London City

Ballads using this tune:

]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1162 <![CDATA[<em>Terza Rima</em>]]>
There is no set rhythm for terza rima, but in English, iambic pentameter is generally preferred. The terza rima form was invented by Dante Alighieri for the Commedia (The Divine Comedy, ca. 1304–1321), using the hendecasyllabic (eleven-syllable) line common to Italian poetry. © Academy of American Poets]]>
2020-01-08T16:40:58+11:00

Title

Terza Rima

Description

The literal translation of terza rima from Italian is 'third rhyme'. Terza rima is a three-line stanza using chain rhyme in the pattern a-b-a, b-c-b, c-d-c, d-e-d. There is no limit to the number of lines, but poems or sections of poems written in terza rima end with either a single line or couplet repeating the rhyme of the middle line of the final tercet. The two possible endings for the example above are d-e-d, e or d-e-d, e-e.

There is no set rhythm for terza rima, but in English, iambic pentameter is generally preferred. The terza rima form was invented by Dante Alighieri for the Commedia (The Divine Comedy, ca. 1304–1321), using the hendecasyllabic (eleven-syllable) line common to Italian poetry. © Academy of American Poets

Creator

Dante Alighieri (Italian)

Date

Late 13th Century
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1172 <![CDATA[<em>The Ladies Fall</em>]]> 2020-01-08T16:43:01+11:00

Title

The Ladies Fall
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1173 <![CDATA[<em>The Rich Merchant Man</em>]]> 2019-01-19T13:05:11+11:00

Title

The Rich Merchant Man
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1140 <![CDATA[<em>The Wife's Dream</em>]]> 2020-01-08T14:18:04+11:00

Title

The Wife's Dream

Digital Object

About:

American old-time song.

Transcription

Pray tell me, Mary, how it is that you can look so gay.
When, evening after evening, your husband is away?
I never see you sulk about, nor say an angry word,
But still you've plenty cause for tears, if all be true I've heard.
It is because, my sister dear, a husband you ne'er wed;
To see your children gathering round asking you for bread.
You ne'er can tell how it becomes a woman's lot through life,
To be, e'en to a drunkard's life, a faithful, loving wife.
But still I can recall the time when bitter tears I shed, .
And when my husband staggered home, what angry words I said.
I never thought I could be so cheerful as now I seem,
Yet this happy change was brought about by a simple little dream.
One eve as I sat waiting at our humble little cottage door.
And listening for my husband's steps, as oft I've done before.
Some wicked thoughts came in my head, and bitterly I said-
I never wished to see him more, I would that he were dead.
They say the wretched cannot rest, but sure it is not si,
For very soon I fell asleep 'midst cares of grief and woe;
I dreamt I had my wish fulfilled, my husband was no more,
I fell upon his lifeless corpse, and kissed him o'er and o'er.
Dearest darling, speak to me, I meant not what I said,
O speak once more unto you" wife, say, say you are not dead.
O sure I am not, Mary dear. I woke up with a scream,
And found my husband standing by-his death was but a dream.
Ever since that time, when I feel disposed to be unkind,
The warning of that fearful dream comes fresh into my mind;
Although it cost me many a pang to know the life he leads,
I strive to greet him with a smile when oft my poor heart bleeds.
I'll humbly put my trust in God, and ask for strength to bear
The trials he has sent on earth for all of us to share;
And if, by patience, I should change my husband's wandering life,
He'll bless the hour that dream was sent to his neglected wife.

Ballads using this tune:

]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1164 <![CDATA[<em>Warum betrübst du dich, mein Herz</em>]]> 2021-03-26T16:16:34+11:00

Title

Warum betrübst du dich, mein Herz

Creator

Johann Sebastian Bach

Digital Object

About:

Johann Sebastian Bach composed the church cantata Warum betrübst du dich, mein Herz (Why do you trouble yourself, my heart), in Leipzig for the 15th Sunday after Trinity and first performed it on 5 September 1723. The original text by an unknown author includes three stanzas from the hymn of the same name (Wikipedia).

Transcription

1
Warum betrübst du dich, mein Herz?
Bekümmerst dich und trägest Schmerz
Nur um das zeitliche Gut?
Vertrau du deinem Herren Gott,
Der alle Ding erschaffen hat.
 
2
Er kann und will dich lassen nicht,
Er weiß gar wohl, was dir gebricht,
Himmel und Erd ist sein!
Dein Vater und dein Herre Gott,
Der dir beisteht in aller Not.
 
3
Weil du mein Gott und Vater bist,
Dein Kind wirst du verlassen nicht,
Du väterliches Herz!
Ich bin ein armer Erdenkloß,
Auf Erden weiß ich keinen Trost.
 
4
Der Reiche bauet auf sein Gut;
Ich will vertrauen auf Gottes Hut.
Ob mich die Welt veracht',
So glaub ich doch mit Zuversicht,
Wer Gott vertraut, dem mangelt's nicht.
 
5
Helia , wer ernähret dich 
Da es so lange regnet nicht 
In so schwer theurer Zeit? 
Ein Wittwe aus Sidonier Land 
Zu welcher du von Gott warst gesandt.
 
6
Da er lag untr dem Wachholdrbaum
Der Engel Gotts vom Himmel kam 
Und bracht ihm Speis undTranck 
Er gieng gar einen weiten Gang 
Bis zu dem Berg Horeb genannt.
 
7
Des Daniels Gott nicht vergaß 
Da er unter den Löwen saß 
Sein Engel sandt er hin 
Er ließ ihm Speise bringen gut 
Durch seinen Diener Habacuc.
 
8
Joseph in Egyptn verkauffet ward 
Vom König Pharao gefangen hart 
Umb sein Gottfürchtigkeit 
Gott macht ihn zu einn grossen Herrn
Daß er kont Vatr und Brüdr ernehrn.
 
9
Es ließ auch nicht der treue Gott 
|Die drey Männr im Feur-Ofen roth 
Seinn Engel sandt er hin 
Bewahrt sie für des Feuers Glut
Und halff ihnen aus aller Noth.
 
10
Ach Gott, du bist so reich noch heut';
Ob je du warst von Ewigkeit,
Mein Trauen steht zu dir;
Sei du nur meiner Seele Hort,
So hab' ich Gnüge hier und dort.
 
11
Zeitlicher Ehr, ich gern entbehr',
Des Ewigen mich nur gewähr,
Das du erworben hast
Durch deinen herben, bittern Tod;
Das bitt ich dich, mein Herr und Gott.
 
12
Alles was ist auf dieser Welt,
Es sei Gold, Silber oder Geld,
Reichtum und zeitlich Gut,
Das währt nur eine kleine Zeit
Und hilft doch nichts zur Seligkeit.
 
13
Ich danke dir, Herr Jesu Christ,
Dass mir das Kund geworden ist
Durch dein wahrhaftig's Wort;
Verleih mir auch Beständigkeit
Zu meiner Seelen Seligkeit!
 
14
Lob, Ehr und Preis sei dir gebracht
Für alles wie du mich bedacht.
In Demut bitt' ich dich:
Lass mich von deinem Angesicht
Ewig verstossen werden nicht !
 
 
1
Why are you afflicted, my heart,
why are you full of care and enduring sorrow
only for temporal possessions?
Place your trust in your Lord God
who has created everything.
 
2
He cannot and will not abandon you,
he knows well what you lack,
heaven and earth are his!
Your father and your God.
who stands beside you in all distress.
 
3
Since you are my God and father
you will not abandon your child,
you fatherly heart!
I am a wretched clod of earth,
on earth I know no consolation.
 
4
The rich man builds on his goods;
I shall trust in God’s care.
Although the world scorns me,
I believe with confidence,
who trusts in God will lack nothing.
 
5
Elias,who feeds you
when there is no rain for so long
in time of such hard famine?
A widow from Sidon
to whom you were sent by God.
 
6
As he lay beneath a juniper tree
God’s angel came from heaven
and brought him food and drink.
He went on a long jouirney
to the mountain named Horeb.
 
7
God did not forget Daniel 
as he sat among the lions.
He sent his angel down,
he had good food brought to him
by his servant Habakuk.
 
8
Joseph was sold into Egypt,
imprisoned by Pharaoh the king
For his reverence for God
God made him a grerat lord
so that he could feed his father ad brothers.
 
9
The faithful God also did not forsake
the three men in the burning fiery furnace,
he sent down his angel,
protected them from the fire’s heat
and helped them in all distress.
 
10
Ah God, you are as rich today
as you were from eternity,
my trust stands by you;
be the only refuge of my soul,
then I have enough here and hereafter.
 
11
Temporal glory I happily do without,
only grant that I may share the eternal glory
that you have gained
by your harsh, bitter death;
for this I ask you, my Lord and God.
 
12
Everything that in this world,
whether it is gold, silver or money,
wealth or temporal possessions,
lasts only a short time
and is of no help for blessedness.
 
13
I thank you , Lord Jesus Christ,
for what has been revealed to me
through your truthful word;
bestow constancy also on me
for the blessedness of my soul!
 
14
Praise, glory and honour be given to you
for all your consideration for me.
In humility I ask you:
let me never from your face
be driven away.
 
 
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1169 <![CDATA[<em>Welladay</em>]]> 2021-03-18T16:07:47+11:00

Title

Welladay

Transcription

Christmas is my name, Far have I gone,
Have I gone, (have I gone,)
Have I gone without regard.
Whereas great men, By flocks there be flown,
There be flown, (there be flown,)
There be flown to London-ward.
There they in pomp and in pleasure do waste
That which Old Christmas was wont for to feast,
Welladay, Welladay,
Welladay, where should I stay?
Houses where music was wont for to ring,
Nothing but bats and owlets do sing,
Welladay, Welladay,
Welladay, where should I stay?

Christmas dinner is turned into stones,
Into stones and silken rags.
And Lady Money sleeps and makes moans,
And makes moans in miser's bags.
Houses where pleasures once did abound
Nought but a dog and a shepherd is found.
Places that Christmas revels did keep
Now have become habitations for sheep.

Pan, the shepherd's god doth deface,
Doth deface Mother Nature's crown.
And the tillage doth go to decay,
To decay in every town.
Landlords their rents so highly enhance,
Ploughman and family barefoot may dance.
Farmers that Christmas would still entertain
Scarce have enough themselves to maintain.

Briefly, for to end, Here I do find,
I do find so great disdain.
Christmas feasting and dancing must wait
For their season to come again.
Yet winter the holly and doth give,
Carols and wassails in memory do live,
Welladay, Welladay,
Welladay, so here I'll stay.
Thus, where the Boar's Head and Yule Log have been,
Christmas again will surely be seen,
Welladay, Welladay,
Welladay, so here I'll stay.
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/837 <![CDATA[A ballad intituled, A newe well a daye]]> 2021-02-15T13:08:37+11:00

Title

A ballad intituled, A newe well a daye

Subtitle

as playne maister papist, as Donstable waye. Well a daye well a daye, well a daye woe is mee Syr Thomas Plomtrie is hanged on a tree.

Synopsis

The Rising of the North, 1569. Thomas Plumtree, a chaplain with the insurgents, was hanged in Durham in 1570 as a warning to those who aided the Catholics; he was beatified in 1886.

Digital Object

Image / Audio Credit

British Library, STC 2nd ed. / 7553, Huth 50 (4). EEBO record (institutional login required). 

Set to tune of...

Transcription

A Ballad Intituled,
a Newe well a daye /
As playne maister Papist, as Donstable waye.

Well a daye well a daye, well a daye woe is mee
Syr Thomas Plomtrie is hanged on a tree.

AMonge maye newes
As touchinge the Rebelles
their wicked estate,
Yet Syr Thomas Plomtrie,
their preacher they saie,
Hath made the North countrie, to crie well a daye.

Well a daye, well a daye, well a daye, woe is me,
Syr Thomas Plomtrie is hanged on a tree.

And now manie fathers and mothers be theare,
are put to their trialles with terrible feare,
Not all the gaye Crosses nor goddes they adore,
will make them as merie, as they haue ben before,

Well a daye, well a daye, &c.

The widowes woful, whose husbandes be taken
the childerne lament them, are so for saken,
The church men yt chaunted the morowe masse bell
Their Pardons be graunted they hang verie wel.

Well a daye well a daye. &c.

It is knowne they bee fled, that were the beginers
it is time they were ded, poore sorofull sinners
For all there great haste, they are hedged at a staye
with weeping & waylinge to sing well a daye.

Well a daye, well a daye. &c.

Yet some hold opynon, all is well with the highest
they are in good saftie wher freedome is nieste
Northumberland need not, be doutefull some saye,
and Westmorlande is not, yet brought to the bay.

Well a daye, well a daye &c.

No more is not Norton, nor a nomber beside,
But all in good season, they maye hap to be spide,
It is well they be wandred, whether no man can say
But it will be remembered, they crie well a daie.

Well a daye, well a daye. &c.

Where be the fyne fellowes, that caried the crosses,
Where be the deuisers, of Idoles and Asses,
Wher be the gaie Banners, were wont to be borne
where is the deuocion of gentyll Iohn Shorne.

Well a daye, well a daye. &c.

Saint Pall, and Saint Peter, haue laid them a bord
and saie it is feetter to cleaue to Gods worde
Their Beades, & their bables, are best to be burnd
and Moises tables towardes them to be turnde.

Well a daye, well a daye. &c.

And well a daye, wandreth still to and froe,
be wailinge the wonders, of rumors that goe,
Yet saie the stiffe necked let be as be maye,
though some be sore checked, yet some skape awaie

Well a daye, well a daye. &c.

And such some be sowers of seedes of Sedicion,
and saie the popes pardo~, shall giue them remission
That kepe them selues, secrete and preeuilie saie,
it is no greate matter for this well a daye.

Well a daye, well a daye. &c.

You shall haue more newes er Candelmas come
their be matters diffuse yet lookte for of some,
Looke on, and looke still, as ye longe to here newes
I thinke Tower hill, will make ye all muse.

Well a daye, well a daye. &c.

If they that leaue tumblynge begin to war climing
for all your momblinge and merie pastimeing.
Ye will then beleeue, I am sure as I saie,
that matter will meene, a newe well a daye.

Well a dayes, well a daye. &c.

But as ye be faithlesse, of God and his lawe,
so till ye see hedles, the Traitors in strawe,
You wilbe still whisperinge of this and of that,
well a daye, woe is me, you remember it not

Well a daie, well a daie. &c.

Leaue of your lying, and fall to trewe reason,
leaue of your fonde spieng, and marke euery season
Against God & your contrie to taulke of revelling
not Syr Thomas Plumtrie can bide by ye telling

Well a daye, well a daye. &c.

And such as seduce the people with blyndnes,
and byd them to trust the Pope and his kyndnes
Make worke for the tynker, as prouerbes doth saie,
by such popishe patching, still comes well a daye.

Well a daye, well a daie. &c.

And she that is rightfull your Queene to subdue ye,
althoughe you be spitfull hath gyuen no cause to ye
But if ye will vexe her, to trie her hole force,
let him that comes next her, take heed of her horse

Well a daie, well a daie. &c.

Shee is the Lieftennante of him that is stowtest,
shee is defender of all the deuowtest,
It is not the Pope nor all the Pope may,
can make her astonyed, or singe well a daie.

Well a daie, well a daie.

God prosper her highnes, and send her his peace,
to gouerne good people, with grace, & increase,
And send the deseruers, that seeke the wronge way
at Tyborne some Caruers, to singe well a daie.

well a daie, well a daie. &c.

W. E.
Finis.

Composer of Ballad

William Elderton

Method of Punishment

hanging

Crime(s)

treason

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Durham marketplace

Printing Location

London : in Fleestrete [sic] beneath the conduit, at the signe of S. John Euangelist, by Thomas Colwell

Tune Data

Welladay (Simpson 1966, pp. 343-4).
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/838 <![CDATA[A BALLAD ON THE MURDER OF MR HAYES BY HIS WIFE]]> 2019-01-18T15:27:52+11:00

Title

A BALLAD ON THE MURDER OF MR HAYES BY HIS WIFE

Synopsis

Execution by strangulation and burning at the stake of Catherine Hayes on May 9 1726 for the murder of her husband Mr Hayes by beating and dismemberment with an axe.

Set to tune of...

Chevy Chase

Transcription

In Ty-burn road a man there lived
A just and honest life,
And there he might have lived still,
If so had pleased his wife.
Full twice a day to church he went,
And so devout would be,
Sure never was a saint on earth,
If that no saint was he!
This vext his wife unto the heart,
She was of wrath so full,
That finding no hole in his coat,
She picked one in his scull.
But then heart began to relent,
And griev'd she was so sore,
That quarter to him for to give,
She cut him into four.
All in the dark and dead of night,
These quarters she conveyed,
And in a ditch in Marybone,
His marrow-bones she laid.
His head at Westminster she threw,
All in the Thames so wide,
Says she, 'My dear, the wind sets fair,
And you may have the tide.'
But Heav'n, whose pow'r no limit knows,
On earth or on the main,
Soon caus'd this head for to be thrown
Upon the land again.
The head being found, the justices,
Their heads together laid;
And all agreed there must have been
Some body to this head.
But since no body could be found,
High mounted on a shelf,
They e'en set up the head to be,
A witness for itself.
Next, that it no self-murder was,
The case itself explains,
For no man could cut off his head,
And throw it in the Thames.
Ere many days had gone and passed,
The deed at length was known.
And Cath'rine, she confess'd at last,
The fact to be her own.
God prosper long our noble King,
Our lives and safeties all,
And grant that we may warning take,
By Cath'rine Hayes's fall.

Method of Punishment

strangulation; burning

Crime(s)

murder

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Tyburn

URL

Catherine Hayes Murderpedia entry
See also, Tales from the Hanging Court, by Time Hitchcock ad Roberk Brink Shoemaker (2006), pp. 48 ff
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/839 <![CDATA[A ballad reioysinge the sodaine fall, of rebels that thought to deuower vs all.]]> 2021-02-15T13:05:40+11:00

Title

A ballad reioysinge the sodaine fall, of rebels that thought to deuower vs all.

Digital Object

Image / Audio Credit

British Library, STC (2nd ed.) / 1326 Huth 50[29]. EEBO link (institutional login required).

Set to tune of...

Reioyce with me ye Christians all ...

Date

Printing Location

Imprinted at London, : In Fleetestreete, by William How, for Henry Kirkham, and are to be solde at his shop at the middle north doore of Paules Churche., [1570]
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/840 <![CDATA[A breefe balet touching the traytorous takynge of Scarborow Castell.]]> 2021-02-15T13:11:03+11:00

Title

A breefe balet touching the traytorous takynge of Scarborow Castell.

Synopsis

The abortive uprising of Thomas Stafford

Digital Object

Image / Audio Credit

Society of Antiquaries, no. 40, STC (2nd ed.) / 13290.7. EEBO record (institutional login required). 

Transcription

OH valiaunt inuaders gallants gaie.
Who, with your compeeres conqueringe the route,
Castels or towrs: all standynge in your waie,
Ye take, controlling all estates most stoute.
Yet had it now bene good to looke aboute.
[illegible] to haue let alone,
And take scarborow warnynge euerichone.

By Scarborow castell, not Scarborow:
I onely meane: but further vnderstande,
Eche Hauene, eche hold, or other harborow,
That our good Kyng and Queene do holde in hande:
As dewe obedience bindth vs in bande.
Their Scarborow castels to let a lone,
And take Scarborow warnings euerychone.

The scalers of which castells euermore,
In bookes of olde, and in our eyes of new:
Haue alway lost them selues and theirs therfore.
All this ye did forget: in time to vew.
Which myght haue wrought both you and yours teschew:
Lettyng Scarborow castel now alone,
Takyng Scarborow warnyng euerychone.

This Scarborow castell, symplie standyng:
Yet could that castell slyly you begyle,
Ye thought ye tooke the castell: at your landyng:
The castell takyng you: in the selfe whyle.
Eche stone within the castell wall did smyle,
That Scarborow castell ye let not alone,
And tooke Scarborow warnyng euerychone.

Your puttyng now in vre your dyuylishe dreame,
Hath made you see (and lyke enough to feele)
A fewe false traytours can not wynne a reame,
Good subiectes be (and will be) trew as steele.
To stand with you, the ende they lyke no deele.
Scarborow castels they can lette alone,
And take Scarborow warnyng{is} euerychone.

They know gods law: tobey their Kyng and Queene.
Not take from them: but kepe for them their owne.
And geue to them: when such traytours are seene
As ye are now: to brynge all ouerthrowne:
They woorke your ouerthrow, by god{is} power growne.
God saith: let Scarborow castell alone,
Take Scarborow warnyng euerychone.

To late for you, and in time for the rest
Of your most traytorous sect (if any bee)
You all are spectacles at full witnest:
As other weare to you: treason to flee.
Which in you past, yet may the rest of yee:
The saide Scarborow castells let alone,
And take Scarborow warnyngs euerychone.

This terme Scarborow warnyng, grew (some say),
By hasty hangyng, for rank robbry theare.
Who that was met, but suspect in that way,
Streight was he trust vp: what euer he weare.
Wherupon theeues thynkyng good to forbeare,
Scarborow Robbyng they let that alone,
And tooke Scarborow warnyng euerychone.

If Robbyng in that way, bred hangyng so,
By theft to take, way, towne, castell and all,
What Scarborow hangyng craueth this lo:
Weare your selues herein Iudges capitall:
I thinke your Iudgementes on these woords must fall.
Scarborow Robbyng who letth not alone,
Scarborow hangyng deserue euerychone.

We wold to god that you (and al of yow)
Had but considered: as wel as ye knew:
The end of all traytorie, as you see it now,
Long to haue liued, louyng subiectes trew.
Alas: your losse we not reioyse, but rew.
That Scarborow castell ye leete not alone,
And tooke Scarborow warnyng euerychone.

To craft{is} that euer thryue, wyse men euer cleaue.
To crafts that seeld when thryue, wyse men seeld when flee.
The crafts that neuer thryue, a foole can learne to leaue.
This thriftles crafty crafte then clere leaue we.
One God, one Kynge, one Queene, serue franke and free.
Their Scarborow castell let it alone,
Take we Scarborow warning euerichone.

Our soueraigne lord: and soueraigne lady both.
Lawde we our lorde, for their prosperitee.
Beseching him for it: as it now goth,
And to this daie hath gone, that it may bee:
Continued so, in perpetuitee.
We lettyng theyr Scarborow castells alone,
Takyng Scarborow warnings euerychone,
Finis{que}

Composer of Ballad

John Heywood

Method of Punishment

beheading

Crime(s)

high treason

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Tower Hill

Printing Location

England London Fleetestrete

Tune Data

Composer: Thomas Powell
Reference: (Simpson 1966, pp. 176-77)

Notes

Wikipedia: Thomas Stafford was the ninth child and second surviving son of Henry Stafford, 1st Baron Stafford and Ursula Pole. Little is known of his early life, first being mentioned in 1550 as he travelled to Rome, where he associated with his uncle Reginald, Cardinal Pole.

He spent three years in Italy before travelling to Poland, obtaining the recommendation of King Sigismund Augustus who requested Mary restored him to the Dukedom of Buckingham. Augustus's appeal appeared to have no effect. When Stafford returned to England in January 1554 he joined the rebellion led by Thomas Wyatt; this arose out of concern of Mary's determination to marry Philip II of Spain. The rebellion failed and Thomas was captured and briefly imprisoned in the Fleet Prison before fleeing to France. There, he intrigued with other English exiles and continued to promote his claim to the English throne. On 18 April 1557 (Easter Sunday) Stafford sailed from Dieppe with two ships and over 30 men.

Landing in Scarborough on 25 April 1557, he walked into the unprotected Castle and proclaimed himself Protector of the Realm, attempting to incite a new revolt by denouncing the Spanish marriage, railed against increased Spanish influence and promised to return the crown 'to the trewe Inglyshe bloude of our owne naterall countrye'. Stafford claimed he had seen letters at Dieppe showing that Scarborough and 12 other castles would be given to Philip II and garrisoned with 12,000 Spanish soldiers before his coronation. Three days later, the Earl of Westmorland recaptured the castle and arrested Stafford and his companions. Stafford was beheaded for treason on 28 May 1557 on Tower Hill, after imprisonment in the Tower. Thirty-two of his followers were also executed after the rebellion.
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/951 <![CDATA[A Cabinet of grief, ]]> 2021-02-15T13:07:18+11:00

Title

A Cabinet of grief,

Subtitle

or, The French midwife's miserable moan for the barbarous murther committed upon the body of her husband

Digital Object

Image / Audio Credit

Reproduction of original in the Bodleian Library, Wing / 1611:04. Recorded in EEBO (institutional login required). 

Set to tune of...

The Pious Christians Exhortation

Transcription

A CABINET of Grief: OR, THE French MIDVVIFE'S Miserable mean for the Barbarous Murther committed upon the Body o[...] her Husband

With the manner of her Co[...]veying away hi[...] Limbs and of her Execution; She being Burnt to Ashes on the 2d. of March in Leicester-Fields.

For the better impressing of this Subject on your Hearts and Minds, take these following Lines, which may be Sung [H] to the Tune of, The Pious Christians Exhortation.

A Lack! my very heart does bleed,
to see my woful Destiny,
You that my Dying Lines shall read,
I pray you all to pitty me.

A Murder here I did commit,
for which I have deserved Death,
This Crime I never shall forget,
as long as I have life or breath.

With grief and sorrow am I slain,
to see the Race that I have run,
A thousand times I wish in vain,
this Wicked deed I had not done.

It was my Husband whom I kill'd,
and Mangl'd at so strange a rate,
The World may be with Wonder fill'd,
while I this Tragedy relate.

In sorrow here my hands I wring,
on Wrack of Conscience am I rowl'd,
What did provoke me to this thing,
in brief to you I will unfold.

With care and grief I was opprest,
e're since I did become his Wife,
And never could have peace or rest,
but led a discontented life.

No Tongue is able to express
what I with him did undergo,
He Cruel was and pittiless,
which now has prov'd our overthrow.

From time to time he Riffl'd me,
scarce leaving any Cloaths to wear,
Besides his Acts of Cruelty,
this drove me into deep Dispair.

My heart was ready then to break,
in private I shed many a Tear,
As knowing not what course to take,
my sorrows they were so severe.

Against me his whole heart he set,
and often vow'd my Blood to spill,
Morning and Night when e're we met,
confusion was our Greeting still.

When him I strove to Reconcile,
saying, thou know'st how 'tis with us,
Maliciously he'd me Revile,
and swear it should be worse and worse.

Though he to Wickedness was bent,
and show'd himself so cross and grim,
I own this was no Argument
that I, alas! should Murder him.

But Sin and Satan so took place,
by living so from time to time,
For want of Gods preventing Grace,
I did commit this horrid Grime.

When Man and Wife lives at discord,
they may expect both fear and dread,
For there's no Blessing from the Lord,
where such a Wicked life is led.

For coming from bad Company,
when I was in a sweet Repose,
He from the sleep did waken me,
with many cruel bitter Blows.

This did the height of Anger raise,
when he did such unkinkness show,
That I resolv'd to end his days,
altho' it prov'd my overthrow.

To Bed he straight ways did repair,
as soon as he these Blows did give,
Thought I thy life I will insnare,
thou hast but little time to live.

I vow'd no favour to afford,
to him that us'd me so amiss,
Straight he I Strangl'd with a Cord,
when as he little thought of this.

Altho' he strugl'd for his life,
as surely very well he might,
Yet I his cruel-hearted Wife,
resolved to expell my spight.

Thus him of life I did deprive,
then in his Bed some days he lay,
My greatest care was to contrive,
how to convey his Corps away.

To bear him forth my self alone,
I cut off Head, Arms, c'ry Limb,
Had I not had a Heart of Stone,
I could hot thus have Mangl'd him.

His Head into a Vault I threw,
his Carcass on a foul Dung-hill,
His other Limbs into the Thames,
and then I thought all things was well.

Safe was I then, as I did think,
yet seiz'd I was in a short time,
For Heavens Justice would not wink
at such a black and bloody Crime.

Then to a Prison was I sent,
there to bewail my wretched state,
And there in Tears I did lament,
but this was when it was too late.

To Justice was I brought indeed,
where Conscience in my face did flye,
Guilty was all that I could plead,
I knew I did deserve to Dye.

O then my sad and dismal Doom,
soon after this I did receive,
It was in Fire to Consume,
which made my very heart to grieve.

Alas! I knew not what to say,
'tis Death alone must end the strife,
Behold this dreadful dismal Day,
the which must end my dearest Life.

Altho' I Weep and make sad moan,
as being Wounded to the heart,
I cannot chuse but needs must own
it is no more then my Desert.

To see me go some Thousands throng,
and thus in shame and much disgrace,
Through many Crowds I past along,
unto the Execution place.

Lord, tho' my Body here must Burn,
for my sad Crime so gross and foul,
Yet when I shall to Ashes turn,
receive my poor Immortal Soul.

FINIS.

Method of Punishment

burning

Crime(s)

murder

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Leicester-Fields

Printing Location

Licensed accordin[...] to Order Blare, at the Looking-Glass on London-Bridge. 1688.

Notes

Ballad follows a prose account of the event
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/841 <![CDATA[A Congratulation on the happy discovery of the hellish fanatick plot]]> 2020-01-08T14:26:29+11:00

Title

A Congratulation on the happy discovery of the hellish fanatick plot

Synopsis

This is a Tory song attacking Whig i.e. Protestants, think 'Presbyter' refers to Stephen College, and the other names are 17C printers/publishers/booksellers: Richard Janeway, Langley Curtis, Henry Care, etc.

Digital Object

Image / Audio Credit

Huntington Library - Bindley (formerly Luttrell), HEH 135815; EBBA 32286

Set to tune of...

Now, now the Fight's done

Transcription

1.
COme now let's Rejoyce,
And the City Bells ring,
And the Bonefires kindle,
Whilst unto the KING
We pay on our Knees
The grand Tribute that's due,
Of Thanks and Oblations,
Which now we renew,
For Mercies that we
Have received of late,
From Prudence and Justice
Diverting our Fate.

2.
The Curtain is drawn,
And the Clouds are dispers'd;
The PLOT's come to light,
That in darkness did Nest:
Jack Calvin's display'd
With his Colours in Grain,
And who were the Traytors
And Villains 'tis plain:
The Traps that they laid,
And the Snares that they set,
Have caught them at last
In their own silly Net:

3.
The Foreman himself,
That Off-Spring of Hell,
In whose wicked Breast
All Treason doth dwell,
To the Tower is sent,
With his Triple Name,
Whilst the Triple-Tree groans
For his Carcass again,
And many Rogues more
Their Leader will follow
Unto the same Place,
Whilst we whoop and Hollow.

4.
The Libelling Tribe
Who so long have Reign'd,
And sowed Sedition,
Shall now be Arraign'd;
Their Shams and their Lies
Shall do them no good,
When they come to the Tree,
There's no Shamming that Wood:
Janeway and Curtis
In the Forlorn Hope,
Then Vile, Smith and Care
Shall Neck the next Rope.

5.
So, so, let them dye
That would Monarchs destroy,
And spit all their Venom
Our Land to annoy;
If that their Pow'r were
To their Malice equal,
And their Courage the same,
They'd soon ruine all;
But their Courage is low,
And their Power but small;
Their Treaon is High,
And must have a Fall.

6.
When Trojans of Old
(Our Ancestors) were
In danger of Shipwrack,
And toss'd here and there;
Great Neptune soon quell'd
Those Rebels and Storms,
With brandished Trident,
And free'd them from harms;
They fled from his Face,
Through the guilt of their Cause,
As these from our Lion,
If he stretch out his Paws.

7.
Go Devils, be gone
To the Region below,
Here's no business of yours,
Or ought left to do:
No Tempter we need,
We can act all our selves,
Without any help
From you silly Elves;
For what Presbyter Acts,
He thinks a disgrace
All Hell should out-doe him,
Or dare shew their Face.

8.
For produce all the Ill
That Hell ever hatch'd,
'Tis nothing at all,
When it comes to be match'd
With what has been Plotted
By Traytors of late,
Who aim'd at the Ruine
Of Church, and of State:
By Perjury, Bribes,
By suborning all Evil,
By Murther, and worse
Than e're came from th' Devil.

9.
Now Presbyter come
And submit thy stiff Neck,
Thou labour'st in vain
Our great Monarch to check;
Whose Power Divine
No Mortals controul,
But hazard the loss
Of both Body and Soul:
Then banish for ever
Your Commonwealth hope,
Which tends to destruction,
And ends with A ROPE.

EPILOGUE
With Wine of all sorts
Let the Conduits run free,
And each true heart drink
The KING's Health on his Knee,
No Treason shall lodge
In our Breasts while we live,
To God, and to Caesar
Their Due we will give;
We'l pray with our Hearts,
And fight with our Hands,
Against all Fanaticks,
When Great CHARLES Commands.

Method of Punishment

hanging; drawing and quartering

Crime(s)

treason

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Oxford

Notes

Wikipedia: Stephen College (c.1635-1681) was an English joiner, activist Protestant, and supporter of the perjury underlying the fabricated Popish Plot. He was tried and executed for high treason.

Life: He was born about 1635, and worked at the trade of carpentry. He became known as an anti-Catholic political speaker. He had been a presbyterian until the Restoration of 1660, when he conformed to the church of England. He made himself notorious by his declamations against the papists, by writing and singing political ballads, and by inventing a weapon for self-defence at close quarters, which he called 'the protestant flail. ' He knew many persons of rank. Lord William Russell and Lady Berkeley showed him kindness.' He was one of the bitterest opponents of Lord William Stafford, and exulted over his condemnation and death. Among the writings attributed to him are coarse attacks on lawyers and Catholics,. Among these are 'Truth brought to Light, or Murder will out;' 'Justice in Masquerade, or Scroggs upon Scroggs;' another beginning ' Since Justice Scroggs Pepys and Dean did bail;' 'The Pope's Advice and Benediction to his Judge and Jury in Eutopia;' 'The Wolf Justice ' (against Scroggs); 'A Caution,' and 'A Satyr' against James, Duke of York, the Duchess of Portsmouth, and William Scroggs, whom he hated for acquitting George Wakeman.

When the parliament moved to Oxford, in March 1681, College went there on horseback, ostentatiously displaying weapons and wearing defensive armour, speaking threateningly against the king, and advocating resistance. In June 1681, after the condemnation of Edward Fitzharris, College was arrested, carried before Secretary of State Leoline Jenkins on 29 June, and committed to the Tower. He was indicted at the Old Bailey on 8 July for seditious words and actions, but saved by the influence of Slingsby Bethel and Henry Cornish, sheriffs of whig sympathies. They packed a grand jury who returned a verdict of ignoramus, or “we do not know" (i.e. "we know of no reason why he should stand trial").

At nearly two o'clock in the morning the jury retired, and in half an hour gave their verdict of guilty. The court then adjourned until ten o'clock, when sentence of death was pronounced against him. He was visited in prison by two of the university divines, Dr. Marshall and Dr. Hall, who declared him to be penitent. His family was admitted to see him, and attempts made to obtain a remission of the sentence, but the sole concession granted was that his quarters should be delivered to his friends. On 31 August he was taken in a cart to the place of execution, and made a long speech, chiefly to clear himself from the charge of being a papist. He was then hanged and quartered. His body was buried the next evening at St. Gregory's Church, by St. Paul's.
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/1159 <![CDATA[A Copy of Verses on the Awful Execution of Charles Christopher Robinson, For the Murder of his Sweetheart, Harriet Segar, of Ablow Street, Wolverhampton, August 26th. ]]> 2020-01-14T13:15:43+11:00

Title

A Copy of Verses on the Awful Execution of Charles Christopher Robinson, For the Murder of his Sweetheart, Harriet Segar, of Ablow Street, Wolverhampton, August 26th.

Synopsis

Article from The Times, 10 January 1866, page 12, Column E:

"EXECUTION AT STAFFORD.—Charles Christopher Robinson was executed on Tuesday morning in front of the county gaol at Stafford, in presence of 4,000 spectators. Before his death he acknowledged the justice of his sentence. On the scaffold he exclaimed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” His death was not instantaneous. He made a statement to the chaplain, but wished it to be kept from the public. Robinson would have been 19 next May. His victim was somewhat older, but she would have been only in her 19th year. They had for a long time been affianced, and lived together in the house in which the murder was committed. The facts of the murder may be briefly told. On the afternoon of Saturday, the 26th of August, Mr. and Mrs. Fisher went out for a drive into the country, leaving Robinson and Harriet Seager alone in the house, with a young man named Wilson, a companion of Robinson, in the garden. During the afternoon the girl was seen by a servant girl of Mr. Fisher’s brother, who had gone to the house on an errand, crying as she stood cleaning knives in the brewhouse. Robinson at the time stood leaning against the door. Shortly afterwards a nephew of Mr. Fisher, a little boy, saw Robinson strike Seagar (sic) with his open hand in her face because she would not allow him to kiss her. The young man alluded to left about 4 o’clock, and Robinson, who had been shooting sparrows with him in the garden with a small gun, went into the house. About a quarter-past 4 the neighbours were alarmed by a cry that Robinson had shot Harriet, and upon entering the brewhouse the poor girl was found lying dead on the floor in a pool of blood, with her throat cut. At the time the neighbours entered the house Robinson was observed coming down stairs, with an open razor in his hand. He was then in his shirt sleeves, for he had not washed or dressed himself during the day. He went into the scullery where his victim lay dead on the floor, and, standing in front of a looking-glass that was hanging upon the wall, he deliberately cut his throat three times with the razor. At this juncture he was secured, a surgeon was sent for, and his self-inflicted wounds were sewn up after some resistance on his part. The defence upon the trial, however, was, first, that Seager had committed suicide, and that the prisoner in grief attempted his own life; and next, that he was insane when he committed the murder, insanity being hereditary in his family, as was shown by the fact of his half-sister being then in a lunatic asylum. It could not, however, be shown that he was insane either before or after the murder. The executioner was a man named Smith, of Dudley, who has for some years performed the duties of hangman at Stafford."

Digital Object

Image / Audio Credit

Image credits required

Set to tune of...

no tune indicated

Transcription

Come all you feeling Christians,
Give ear unto my tale,
It's for a cruel murder
I was hung at Stafford Gaol.
The horrid crime that I have done
Is shocking for to hear,
I murdered one I once did love,
Harriet Segar dear.

Charles Robinson it is my name,
With sorrow was oppressed,
The very thought of what I've done
Deprived me of my rest:
Within the walls of Stafford Gaol,
In bitter grief did cry,
And every moment seemed to say
"Poor soul prepare to die!"

I well deserve my wretched fate,
No one can pity me,
To think that I in my cold blood,
Could take her life away,
She no harm to me had done,
How could I serve her so?
No one my feelings now can tell,
My heart was full of woe.

O while within my dungeon dar,
Sad thoughts came on apace,
The cruel deed that I had done
Appeared before my face,
While lying in my prison cell
Those horrid visions rise,
The gentle form of her I killed
Appeared before my eyes.

O Satan, Thou Demon strong,
Why didst thou on me bind?
O why did I allow they chains
To enwrap my feeble mind?
Before my eyes she did appear
All others to excell,
And it was through jealousy,
I poor Harriet Segar killed.

May my end a warning be
Unto all mankind,
Think on my unhappy fate
And bear me in your mind.
Whether you be rich or poor
Your friends and sweethearts love,
And God will crown your fleeting days,
With blessings from above.

Method of Punishment

hanging

Crime(s)

murder

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Stafford

Printing Location

no details
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/842 <![CDATA[A cruell murther committed lately upon the body of Abraham Gearsy ]]> 2021-02-15T13:12:11+11:00

Title

A cruell murther committed lately upon the body of Abraham Gearsy

Subtitle

who liv'd in the Parish of Westmill, in the County of Harford; by one Robert Reeve, and Richard Reeve, both of the same Parish: for which fact Robert was prest to death, on Munday the 16. of March, and the Tuesday following Richard was hang'd; and after both of them were hang'd up in chaines, where now they doe remaine, to the affrightment of all beholders. 1635. To the tune of Fortune my Foe.

Digital Object

Image / Audio Credit

Reproduction of the original in the British Library , STC / 5418, Wing / 2123:488-489. EEBO record (institutional login required). 

Set to tune of...

Transcription

I pray give eare unto my tale of woe,
Which Ile declare that all may plainly knowe.
Neare Harford lately was a murder done,
O twas a cruell one, as ever was knowne.

The good with evil herein was repaide,
Him that did good the evil hath betraid,
The world is lately growne to such a passe,
That one may feare another in this case.

This money is the cause of manies death,
As twas the cause that one late lost his breath,
The devill and the money workes together,
As by my subiect you may well consider.

With teares of woe I am inforst to write,
That which may cause a tender heart to sigh,
And sighing say, this was a wofull case,
That men should be so much voide of all grace.

Two brethren were there that did doe the same,
The first calld Robert Reeve, the others name
Was Richard Reeve, these did a horrid déed,
As in my following verses shall proceede.

Behold these lines, you that have any care,
And from bloodshedding alwayes doe forbeare;
Though murder be committed secretlye,
Yet for revenge to God it loud doth crye.

And that sinne goes not long unpunished,
Therefore let all men of this sinne take héede:
Many are daily for such crimes accused,
And yet alas too commonly tis used.

One of these brothers was in debt I heare,
Vnto that man, which was his neighbour néere,
But hée repaid him with a envious mind,
As in the story you shall plainly find.

Abraham Gearsie was his name, that was kild,
By those two brothers, as the Devill wild:
He on a day demanded mony due,
I pray give eare and marke what doth insue.

They wish'd him to come home for to be paid,
But for his life it s[ee]mes they wast had laid:
For one day twas his chance for to come there,
Not dreading that his death had bin so néere.

Now these two brothers kild him instantly,
No neighbour was there that did heare him cry:
And being dead floung him in a sawpit,
And coverd him with such as they could get.

Now having hid this murder in that kind,
Great search was made, but none this man could find
His friends lamented for him very sore.
And made inquiris all the country ore.

The second part, To the same tune.

SIx wéekes it was ere it was plainly knowne,
And many were examin'd herevpon:
But these two brothers much suspected were,
And at the last the truth it did appeare.

Some murmured and sayd that they did owe
Him mony, and desired for to know
Whether they had giuen him satisfaction,
Who said, they had, and they did owe him none.

About this mony all did come to light,
Now being put for to approue this right
They could in no wise iustifie the same.
When they to true examination came.

Now they were asked for a quittans made,
But they had none, then others present said,
Where is your bond or witnes of the same?
This must be prou'd, or you will suffer blame.

They being taxed on this wise confest,
How they in bloody murder had transgrest:
Then were they sent to Harford gaile with spéed,
Where they did answere, for this wicked déed.

This lent on sises last their fact was tri'd,
Where they were cast, condemnd and for it di'd,
Robert was prest to death because that hée
Would not bée tride by God and the country.

Richard was hangd by his owne Fathers dore,
Which did torment and grieue his friends full sore,
Now hée and's brother both do hang in chains,
This is a iust reward for murders gaines.

I would intreat all men sor to beware,
Of chue this crying sinne and still for beare,
Good Lord, me thinkes it is a cruell thing,
Of all sins else this may each conscience sting.

This being done, what is hée can forbeare,
With troubled conscience to shed many a feare?
'Tis fearefull sure for to be thought upon,
Although that it be ners so secret done.

Our God is love, and he doth charg us all,
To love each other, but we often fall
From love and unity, to envious evill,
Thus leave we God, and runne unto the Devill.

This may be warning for all other men,
That doe but heare of those vile bretheren:
And more consider 'tis a fearefull sight
To see them hang'd, it would our hearts afright·

Yet some there are that will not frighted be
At all, the warnings that they dayly sée:
Too many doe estéeme such things as nought,
Or else there would not be such murther wrought.

Thus to conclude, pray lets to God for grace,
And alwaies have his feare before our face:
Fly bloody murther, and such horrid sinnes,
Then God will kéep you from such shamefull ends.

FINIS.

R. C.

Composer of Ballad

Richard Crimsal

Method of Punishment

hanging in chains, pressing, hanging

Crime(s)

murder

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Westmill, Harford

Printing Location

Printed at London : for John Wyright Junior, dwelling at the upper end of the Old Baily,
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/843 <![CDATA[A declaration of the death of Iohn Lewes, ]]> 2020-01-08T14:29:12+11:00

Title

A declaration of the death of Iohn Lewes,

Subtitle

a most detestable and obstinate Hereticke, burned at Norwich, the xviii, daye of September. I583. About three of the clocke in the after noone.

Synopsis

Lewes was an early Unitarian. Although this piece vilifies him as 'this devil.../though shape of man he bare', yet because the text presents a detailed account of events on the day of his execution, Lewes' courage in the face of death shines through.

Digital Object

Image / Audio Credit

Society of Antiquaries, London no. 77; EBBA 36314 

Set to tune of...

John Careless

Transcription

OF late (alas) the great untruth
Of Traitours, how it sped
Who list to know, shal here [?]ave
How late allegeance fled.

If Rivers rage against the Sea.
And swell with soddeine rayne:
How glad are they to fall agayne,
And trace their wonted traine?

If fire by force wolde forge the fall
Of any sumptuouse place,
If water floods byd him leave of,
His flames he wyll disgrace.

If God command the wyndes to cease,
His blastes are layd full low:
If God command the seas to calme,
They wyll not rage or flow.

All thinges at Gods commandement be,
If he their state regarde:
And no man lives whose destinie
By him is unpreparde.

But when a man forsakes the ship,
And rowles in wallowing waves:
And of his voluntarie wyll,
His owne good hap depraves:

How shal he hope to scape the gulfe?
How shal he thinke to deale?
How shal his fansie bring him sound
To Safties shore with sayle?

How shall his fraight in fine succede?
Alas what shall he gayne?
What feare by storms do make him quake
How ofte subjecte to payne?

How sundrie times in Dangers den
Is throwne the man unwyse?
Who climes withouten holde on hye,
Beware, I him advize.

All such as trust to false contracts,
Or secret harmes conspire?
Be sure, with Nortons they shal taste
A right deserved hire.

They can not looke for better speede,
No death for such too fell?
God grant the justice of the worlde
Put by the paynes of hell.

For such a pensive case it is,
That English harts did dare
To passe the boundes of duties lawe,
Or of their cuntrie care.

And mercie hath so long releast
Offendours (God doth know)
And bountie of our curteous Queene
Too long hath spared her foe.

But God, whose grace inspires her harte,
Wyll not abyde the spight
Of Rebels rage, who rampe to reach
From her, her title quight.

Although shee flowe in pitifull zeale,
And loveth to sucke no blood:
Yet God a caveat wyll her lend
Tappease those Vipers moode.

A man that sees his house on fire,
Wyll seke to quench the flame:
Els from the spoyle some parte convey,
Els seke the heate to tame.

Who seee a penthouse wether beate,
And heares a boistrouse wynde:
But heedefull safetie of himselfe,
Wyll force him succour fynde?

The pitifull pacient Pellican,
Her blood although shee shed:
Yet wyll shee seme her date to end,
Or care her young be sped.

The Eagle flynges her yong ones downe
That sight of sunne refuse:
Unperfect fowles shee deadly hates,
And rightly such misuse.

The Crane wolde flye up to the Sunne,
I heard it once of olde:
And with the kyng of byrdes did strive
By Fame, I heard it tolde

And do woe she wolde not fal f[?]e no,
But higher styll did moun[t]:
Til past her reach (saith olde reporte)
Shame made a backe recoun[?]

I touch no Armes herein at all [?]
But shew a fable wyse:
Whose morall sence doth repr[?]
Of clymers hye the guyse.

Who buyldes a house of many [?],
and laith not ground work[?]
But doth extorte the ground b[?]g,
His buildyng can not dure[?]

Who sekes surmising to disp[?]
a Ruler sent by GOD:
Is subject sure, devoide of grace[?]
The cause of his owne rod.

A byrde that wyll her nest defyle
By right should loose a wyng:
And then is shee no flying fowle,
But slow as other thyng.

And he that loseth all at games,
Or spendes in fowle excesse:
And hopes by haps to heale his harme,
Must drinke of deare distresse.

To speake of brydles to restrayne
This wylfull wayward crewe:
They care not for the booke of God,
To Princes, men untrue.

To cuntrye, causers of much woe,
To faithfull freendes, a fall:
And to their owne estates, a styng,
To others, sharpe as gall.

O Lorde, how long these Lizerds lurkt,
Good GOD, how great a whyle
Were they in hand with feigned harts
Their cuntrye to defyle?

How did they frame their furniture?
How fit they made their tooles:
How Symon sought our englysh Troie
To bryng to Romaine scooles.

How Simon Magus playd his parte,
How Babilon bawde did rage:
How Basan bulles begon to bell,
How Judas sought his wage.

How Jannes and Jambres did abyde
The brunt of brainesicke acts,
How Dathan, Chore, Abiram seemd
To dash our Moyses facts.

How Romaine marchant set a fresh
His pardons brave a sale,
How alwayes some against the Truth
Wolde dreame a senceles tale.

Gods vicar from his god receaved
The keyes to lose and bynd:
Baals chaplein thoght h[?] fire wold [?]e
Such was his pagan mynd.

Good Lorde how hits the text their [?]ts
That saith such men shall bee
In their religion hot nor colde
Of much varietie.

And sundry sorts of sects surt[?]
Division shall appeare:
Against the father, sonne sha[?]yve,
Gainst mother, daughter [?]re.

Is it not come to passe trow y[?]?
Yea, bastards sure they bee,
Who our good mother Queene of [?]
Withstand rebelliouslie.

Can God his vengeance long retain[?]
Where his true servants feele
Injuriouse spights of godlesse men,
Who turne as doth a wheele?

No no, his suffryng long (be sure)
Wyll pay his foes at last:
His mercye moved once away,
He shall them quight out cast

With sentence just for their untruth,
And breakyng of his wyll:
The fruits of their sedicious seeds,
The barnes of earth shall fyll.

Their soules God wot sore clogd with crime
And their posteritie
Bespotted sore with their abuse,
And stand by their follie.

Their livyngs left their name a shame,
Their deedes with poyson sped:
Their deathes a wage for want of grace
Their honours quite is dead.

Their flesh to feede the kytes and crowes
Their armes a maze for men:
Their guerdon as examples are
To dash dolte Dunces den.

Throw up your snouts you sluggish sorte
You mumming maskyng route:
Extoll your exclamations up,
Baals chapleines, champions stoute.

Make sute for pardons, papists brave,
For traitours indulgence:
Send out some purgatorie scraps,
Some Bulls with Peter pence.

O swarme of Drones, how dare ye styl
With labouryng Bees contend?
You sought for honie from the hives,
But gall you found in end.

These waspes do wast, their stings be out
Their spight wyll not avayle:
These Peacocks proude are naked lefte
Of their displayed tayle.

These Turkye cocks in cullour red,
So long have lurkt aloofe:
The Beare (although but slow of foote)
Hath pluct his wynges by proofe.

The Moone her borowed light hath lost,
Shee wayned as we see:
Who hoped by hap of others harmes,
A full Moone once to bee.

The Lyon suffred long the Bull,
His noble mynd to trye:
Untyll the Bull was rageyng wood,
And from his stake did hye.

Then time it was to bid him stay
Perforce, his hornes to cut:
And make him leave his rageing tunes
In scilence to be put.

And all the calves of Basan kynd
Are weaned from their wish:
The Hircan Tigers tamed now,
Lemathon eates no fish.

Beholde before your balefull eyes
The purchace of your parte,
Survey your sodeine sorrowful sight
With sighes of dubble harte.

Lament the lacke of your alies
Religious rebells all:
Bewepe that yll successe of yours,
Come curse your sodeine fall.

And when ye have your guiles out sought
And all your craft approved,
Peccavimus shall be your song
Your ground worke is removed.

And looke how Nortons sped their wills
Even so their sect shall have,
No better let them hope to gayne
But gallowes without grave.

Composer of Ballad

Thomas Gilbart

Method of Punishment

burning

Crime(s)

heresy

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Norwich, Norfolk

Printing Location

London, by Richard Jones, dwelling neere Holburne Bridge. October. 8.

Tune Data

John Careless mentioned in Simpson (1966, p. 534).
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/844 <![CDATA[A discription of Nortons falcehod Of Yorke shyre, and of his fatall farewel. ]]> 2020-01-08T14:36:58+11:00

Title

A discription of Nortons falcehod Of Yorke shyre, and of his fatall farewel.

Subtitle

The fatal fine of Traitours loe: By Iustice due, deseruyng soe.

Synopsis

A ballad commemorating the execution of nobles involved in the Pilgrimage of Grace, a widespread revolt against the rule of Henry VIII. The Pilgrimage of Grace started in late 1536 and finished in early 1537.

Stuffed full of animal lore like: 'The Crane wolde flye vp to the Sunne, I heard it once of olde', and seasoned with Biblical and classical allusions, what this exhortation against papistry and treason lacks is hard information. The family name of the Nortons is mentioned three times in connection with the gallows; nothing more specific appears.

Digital Object

Image / Audio Credit

HuntingtonbLibrary - Britwell, Shelfmark: HEH18305; EBBA 32269

Transcription

A discription of Nortons falcehod of Yorke shyre, and of his fatall farewel.

Epigraph:
The fatal fine of Traitours loe:
By Iustice due, deseruyng soe.

OF late (alas) the great vntruth
Of Traitours, how it sped
Who list to know, shal here Single illegible lettere
How late allegeance fled.
If Riuers rage against the Sea.
And swell with soddeine rayne:
How glad are they to fall agayne,
And trace their wonted traine?
If fire by force wolde forge the fall
Of any sumptuouse place,
If water floods byd him leaue of,
His flames he wyll disgrace.
If God command the wyndes to cease,
His blastes are layd full low:
If God command the seas to calme,
They wyll not rage or flow.
All thinges at Gods commandeme~t be,
If he their state regarde:
And no man liues whose destinie
By him is vnpreparde.
But when a man forsakes the ship,
And rowles in wallowing waues:
And of his voluntarie wyll,
His owne good hap depraues:
How shal he hope to scape the gulfe?
How shal he thinke to deale?
How shal his fansie bring him sound
To Safties shore with sayle?
How shall his fraight in fine succede?
Alas what shall he gayne?
What feare by storms do make him quake
How ofte subiecte to payne?
How sundrie times in Dangers den
Is throwne the man vnwyse?
Who climes withouten holde on hye,
Beware, I him aduize.
All such as trust to false contracts,
Or secret harmes conspire?
Be sure, with Nortons they shal taste
A right deserued hire.
They can not looke for better sp_ede,
No death for such too fell?
God grant the iustice of the worlde
Put by the paynes of hell.
For such a pensiue case it is,
That English harts did dare
To passe the boundes of duties lawe,
Or of their cuntrie care.
And mercie hath so long releast
Offendours (God doth know)
And bountie of our curteous Quene
Too long hath spared her foe.
But God, whose grace inspires her harte,
Wyll not abyde the spight
Of Rebels rage, who rampe to reach
From her, her title quight.
Although shee flowe in pitifull zeale,
And loueth to sucke no blood:
Yet God a caueat wyll her lend
T'appease those Vipers moode.
A man that sets his house on fire,
Wyll seke to quench the flame:
Els from the spoyle some parte conuey,
Els seke the heate to tame.
Who s_e a penthouse wether beate,
And heares a boistrouse wynde:
But hedefull sasetie of himselfe,
Wyll force him succour fynde?
The pitifull pacient Pellican,
Her blood although sh_e shed:
Yet wyll she seme her date to end,
Or care her young be sped.
The Eagle flynges her yong ones downe
That sight of sunne refuse:
Vnperfect fowles she deadly hates,
And rightly such misvse.
The Crane wolde flye vp to the Sunne,
I heard it once of olde:
And with the kyng of byrdes did striue
By Fame, I heard it tolde
And do woe she wolde not fal f[...]e no,
But higher styll did mou[...]:
Til past her reach (saith olde reporte)
Shame made a backe recour
I touch no Armes herein at all
But shew a fable wyse:
Whose morall sence doth repr[1 span missing]
Of clymers hye the guyse.
Who buyldes a house of many [1 span missing],
and laith not ground work[1 span missing]
But doth ertorte the ground [1 span missing]g,
His buildyng can not dure[1 span missing]

Who sekes surmising to disp[1 span missing]
a Ruler sent by GOD:
Is subiect sure, deuoide of grace
The cause of his owne rod.
A byrde that wyll her nest defyle
By right should loose a wyng:
And then is shee no slying fowle,
But slow as other thyng.
And he that loseth all at games,
Or spendes in fowle excesse:
And hopes by haps to heale his harme,
Must drinke of deare distresse.
To speake of brydles to restrayne
This wylfull wayward crewe:
They care not for the booke of God,
To Princes, men vntrue.
To cuntrye, causers of much woe,
To faithfull fr_endes, a fall:
And to their owne estates, a styng,
To others, sharpe as gall.
O Lorde, how long these Lizerds lurkt,
Good GOD, how great a whyle
Were they in hand with feigned harts
Their cuntrye to defyle?
How did they frame their furniture?
How sit they made their tooles:
How Symon sought our englysh Troie
To bryng to Romaine scooles.
How Simon Magus playd his parte,
How Babilon bawde did rage:
How Basan bulles begon to bell,
How Iudas sought his wage.
How Iannes and Iambres did abyde
The brunt of brainesicke acts,
How Dathan, Chore, Abiram s_emd
To dash our Moyses facts.
How Romaine marchant set a fresh
His pardons braue a sale,
How alwayes some against the Truth
Wolde dreame a senceles tale.
Gods vicar from his god receaued
The keyes to lose and bynd:
Baals chaplein thoght h{is} fire wo[1 span missing]e
Such was his pagan mynd.
Good Lorde how hits the ter[...] their [1 span missing]ts
That saith such men shall be
In their religion hot nor colde
Of much varietie.
And sundry sorts of sects sur[1 span missing]
Diuision shall appeare:
Against the father, sonne sha[1 span missing]ue,
Gainst mother, daughter [1 span missing]e.
Is it not come to passe trow you?
Yea, bastards sure they be,
Who our good mother Qu_ene [1 span missing]
Withstand rebelliouslie.
Can God his vengeance long reta[1 span missing]
Where his true seruants f_ele
Iniuriouse spights of godlesse men,
Who turne as doth a whele?
No no, his suffryug long (be sure)
Wyll pay his foes at last:
His mercye moued once away,
He shall them quight out cast
With sentence iust for their vntruth,
And breakyng of his wyll:
The fruits of their sedicious s_eds,
The barnes of earth shall fyll.
Their soules God wot sore clogd wt crime
And their posteritie
Bespotted sore with their abuse,
And stand by their follie.
Their liuyngs left their name a shame,
Their deedes with poyson sped:
Their deathes a wage for want of grace
Their honours quite is dead.
Their flesh to feede the kytes and crowes
Their armes a maze for men:
Their guerdon as examples are
To dash dolte Dunces den.
Throw vp your snouts you sluggish sorte
You mumming maskyng route:
Extoll your exclamations vp,
Baals chapleines, champions stoute.
Make sute for pardons, papists braue,
For traitours indulgence:
Send out some purgatorie scraps,
Some Bulls with Peter pence.
O swarme of Drones, how dare ye styl
With labouryng B_es contend?
You sought for home from the hiues,
But gall you found in end.
These waspes do wast, their stings be out
Their spight wyll not auayle:
These Peacocks proude are naked lefte
Of their displayed tayle.
These Turkye cocks iu cullour red,
So long haue lurkt a loofe:
The Beare (although but slow of foote)
Hath pluct his wynges by proofe.
The Moone her borowed light hath lost,
Shee wayned as we see:
Who hoped by hap of others harmes,
A full Moone once to b_e.
The Lyon suffred long the Bull,
His noble mynd to trye:
Vntyll the Bull was rageyng wood,
And from his stake did hye.
Then time it was to bid him stay
Perforce, his hornes to cut:
And make him leaue his rageing tunes
In scilence to be put.
And all the calues of Basan kynd
Are weaned from their wish:
The Hircan Tigers tamed now,
Lemathon eates no fish.
Beholde before your balefull eyes
The purchace of your parte,
Suruey your sodeine sorrowful sight
With sighes of dubble harte.
Lament the lacke of your alies
Religious rebells all:
Bewepe that yll successe of yours,
Come curse your sodeine fall.
And when ye haue your guiles out sought
And all your craft approued,
Peccauimus shall be your song
Your ground worke is remoued.
And looke how Nortons sped their wills
Euen so their sect shall haue,
No better let them hope to gayne
But gallowes without graue.

{que} William Gibson.

Œ_ FINIS.

Composer of Ballad

William Gibson

Method of Punishment

hanging; drawing and quartering

Crime(s)

treason

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Tyburn

Printing Location

London by Alexander Lacie, or Henrie Kyrkeham, dwellyng at the signe of the blacke Boye, at the middle North dore of Paules church.

Notes

From The Goodricke Family Files:  Richard Norton, his sons, Christopher and Marmaduke, and his brother Thomas Norton, and about fifty others of noble extraction or of other distinction were tainted of high treason 7 Nov 1569 and their possessions forfeited. Richard Norton fled to Flanders where doubtless he rejoined the Earl of Westmorland, and died there in poverty 9 Apr 1585 (aged 91), the Patriarch of the Rebellion. His brother Thomas was hanged and quartered in the presence of his nephew Christopher at Tyburn on 27 May 1570. The fate on the sons of Richard Norton was as follows: Francis, the eldest, was a fugitive with his father; John, the second, was of Ripon, was not implicated; Edmund, the third, ancestor of the Lords Grantly, was of Clowbeck, Co. York, and died there in 1610, not implicated; William, the fourth, was tried with his uncle Thomas and brother Christopher but was pardoned; George, the fifth, was a fugitive with his father; Thomas, the sixth, died without issue, was not implicated; Christopher, the seventh, was hanged and quartered with his uncle Thomas, at Tyburn, 27 May 1570; Marmaduke, the eighth, pleaded guilty but was pardoned and died at Stranton where he was buried 4th Nov 1594. He was kept a prisoner in the Tower, however, until 1572. Sampson, the ninth, and youngest son, was a fugitive with his father and was at Mechlin in 1571, then a pensioner of the King of Spain. Richard Norton had seven daughters, all well married.
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/845 <![CDATA[A few Lines Upon the awful EXECUTION of John Ormesby & Matth. Cushing, October 17th. 1734 ]]> 2020-01-10T14:25:11+11:00

Title

A few Lines Upon the awful EXECUTION of John Ormesby & Matth. Cushing, October 17th. 1734

Subtitle

One for Murder, the other for Burglary.

Image / Audio Credit

Pamphlet Location: AAS Record Number: 10415EC029ECF0D0, Record Number: w015181
Recorded in Early American Imprints, Series 1, no. 40044 (filmed)

Transcription

ALL you who read these Lines may see
The sad and dire Effects of Sin:
Therefore if Sinners still you'l be,
Leave off to read ere you begin.

Or else perhaps another Day,
This will 'gainst you a Witness be;
You Warning have (mind waht I say)
That from such Sins you do keep free.

Two Men who have great Sinners been,
Now Die, each one for his own Crime:
Not Forty Years hath th'oldest seen,
The other Dies just in his Prime.

Poor John Ormesby, confin'd in Jayl
(For some mis-deed by him transacted)
There in a rage murder'd one Bell,
Some People think he was Distracted.

With a Quart Pot one blow he gave,
For which he had small Provocation:
The poor Man's Life they could not save;
This the Effect of his vile Passion!

Matthew Cushing, alas! poor he
To satisfy the Law must Die;
And tho' his Crime so great may'nt be,
Yet by the Law 'tis Burglary.

They both of them fair Trials had,
The Jury brought them Guilty in;
Their Case is pitiful and sad;
See what they're come to by their Sin!

They to the fatal Place must ride
Each Man his Coffin in the Cart,
With Guard of Soldiers on each side:
The Sight enough to pierce one's Heart.

Then they arrive at th' Gallows Tree,
While Spectators lament and cry;
Alas! how hard it is to see,
Much more to feel their Destiny.

The fatal Moment now is near,
That these poor Mortals must go hence,
To answer for what they did here:
Their lasting State will soon commence.

As the Tree falls, so it will lie,
And must for evermore remain;
So with these Men, just as they Die,
'Twill be, in endless Joy or Pain.

Poor Men! they feel the Pangs of Death,
And now they view Eternity;
Few Moments more will stop their Breath,
And then, alas; they Die, they Die!

May this to all a Warning be,
That they forsake the way that's Evil,
From Murder, Theft, and Burglary,
Keep clear, when tempted by the Devil.

Avoid lewd Women, ever shun
Their Company, entangling Snares,
By them, poor Youths are oft undone,
The Truth of this Cushing declares.

From Swearing and from Cursing too,
Mind that you always do keep clear;
Or this you'll have great cause to rue;
And in the End you'l find them dear.

Let the Commands of Parents dear
Strictly obeyed be, and then
You may expect to be bless'd here
And after death also. Amen.

Method of Punishment

hanging

Crime(s)

burglary

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Boston Neck

Printing Location

[Boston] Printed and sold [by Samuel Kneeland and Timothy Green] at the printing house in Queen-Street, over against the prison., 1734]
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/846 <![CDATA[A Lamentable Ditty made on the Death of Robert Deverux Earl of Essex, ]]> 2020-01-08T14:38:12+11:00

Title

A Lamentable Ditty made on the Death of Robert Deverux Earl of Essex,

Subtitle

who was Beheaded in the Tower of London, on Ash-Wednesday, 1603.
A Lamentable Ballad on the Earl of Essex Death

Synopsis

Execution of Robert Deverux Earl of Essex by beheading at the Tower of London

Digital Object

Image / Audio Credit

Magdalene College - Pepys Library, Shelfmark: Pepys Ballds 2.162-3; EBBA 20781 // EBBA 32618

Set to tune of...

Welladay // Essex' Last Good-night

Transcription

SWeet Englands pride is gone,
welladay, welladay,
Which makes her sigh and groan,
evermore still,
He did her fame advance,
In Ireland Spain and France,
And by a sad mischance,
is from us tane.
He was a vertuous Peer,
weladay, etc.
And was esteemed dear,
evermore still.
He always lov'd the poor,
Which makes them sigh full sore,
His death they did deplore,
in every place.
Brave honour grac'd him still,
gallantly, gallantly,
He ne'r did deed of ill,
well it is known,
But envy that foul fiend,
Whose Malice there doth end,
Hath brought true vertues friend,
unto this thrall.
At Tilt he did surpass,
gallantly, etc,
All men that is and was,
evermore still,
One day as it was seen,
In honour of the Queen,
Such deeds are seldome been,
as he did do,
Abroad and eke at home,
gallantly, gallantly,
For valour there was none,
like him before,
But Ireland France and Spain,
That feared great Essexs name,
But England lov'd the same,
in every place.
But all would not prevail,
welladay, welladay,
His deeds did not prevail,
more was the pitty,
He was condemn'd to dye,
For Treason certainly,
But God that sits on high,
knoweth all things.
That Sunday in the Morn,
welladay, etc,
That he to the City came
with all his Troops.
That first began the strife,
And caus'd him loose his life,
And others did the like,
as well as he.
Yet her Princely Majesty,
graciously, graciously,
Hath pardon given free,
to many of them,
She hath releast them quite,
And given them their right,
They did pray day and night,
God to defend her.
Shrove-Tuesday in the night,
welladay, etc.
With a heavy hearted spight,
as it is said,
The Lieutennant of the Tower,
Who kept him in his power,
At ten a clock that hour,
to him did come,
And said unto him there,
mournfully, etc.
Mo Lord you must prepare,
to dye to morrow,
Gods will be done, quoth he,
Yet shall you strangely see,
God strong in me to be,
though I am weak.
I pray you pray for me,
welladay, etc.
That God may strengthen me
against that hour,
Then straightway he did call
To the Guard under the wall,
And did intreat them all
for him to pray.
For to morrow is the day,
welladay, etc.
That I a debt must pay,
which I do owe,
It is my life I mean,
Which I must pay the Queen,
Even so hath justice given,
that I must dye.
In the morning was he brought,
welladay, etc.
Where the Scaffold was set up,
within the Tower,
Many Lords were present then,
With other Gentlemen,
Which were appointed then,
to see him dye.
You Noble Lords, quoth he,
welladay, etc.
That must the witness,
of this my dream,
Know I ne'r lov'd Papistry,
But still doth it defie,
And thus doth Essex dye,
here in this place.
I have a sinner been,
welladay, etc.
Yet never wrong'd my Queen,
in all my life,
My God I did offend,
Which grieves me at my end,
May all the rest amend,
I do them forgive.
To the state I ne'r meant ill,
welladay, etc.
Neither wisht the commons ill,
in all my life:
But lov'd with all my heart,
And always took their part,
Whereas there were desert,
in every place.
Then mildly did he pray,
mournfully, etc.
He might the favour have,
private to pray,
He then pray'd heartily,
And with great fervency,
To God that sits on high,
for to receive him.
And then he pray'd again,
mournfully, etc.
God to preserve his Queen,
from all her foes.
And send her long to reign,
True Justice to remain,
And not to let proud Spain,
once to offend her,
His Gown be stript off then
welladay, etc.
And put off his Hat and Band,
and hung them by,
Praying still continually,
To God that sits on high,
That he might patiently
there suffer death.
My Heads-man that must be,
then said he chearfully,
Let him come here to me,
that I may see him,
Who kneeled to him then,
Art thou quoth he the Man,
Who art appointed now,
my life to free.
Yes my Lord he did say,
we[l]laday, etc.
Forgive me I you pray,
for this your death:
I here do thee forgive,
And may true justice live,
No foul crimes to forgive,
within this place.
Th[en] he kneeled down again,
welladay, etc.
And was required by some,
there standing by,
To forgive his Enemies,
Before Death clos'd his eyes,
Which he did in hearty wise,
thanking him for it.
That they would remember him,
welladay, etc.
That he would forgive all them,
that hath him wrong'd,
Now my Lords I take my leave,
Sweet Christ my Soul receive,
Now when you will prepare,
I am ready.
He laid his head on the block,
we[l]laday, etc.
But [hi]s Doublet let the stroke,
s[om]e there did say,
What must be done quoth he,
Sha[ll] be done presently,
There [h]is Doublet off put he,
a[nd] lay'd down again.
Th[en] the Headsman did his part,
cruelly, cruelly,
He was not seen to start
for all the blows,
His soul is now at rest,
In Heaven among the blest,
W[he]re God send us to rest
w[he]n it shall please him,

//

ALL you that cry O hone, Ohone,
come now & sing O hone with me
For why our Jewel is from us gone,
the valiant Knight of Chivalry:
Of rich and poor belov'd was he,
in time an honourable Knight;
When by our Laws condemn'd to dye,
he lately took his last good night.
Count him not like to Champion,
those Traytorous men of Babington,
Nor like the Earl of Westmerland,
by whom a number were undone:
He never yet hurt Mothers Son,
his quarrel still maintains the right,
Which makes the tears my face down run
when I think on his last good night.
The Portugals can witness be,
his Dagger at Lisborn Gate he flung,
And like a Knight of Chivalry,
his Chain upon the gate he hung;
I would to God that he would come
to fetch them back in order right
Which thing was by his honour done,
yet lately took his last good night.
The Frenchmen they can testifie,
the town of Gourney he took in,
And marcht to Rome immediately,
not caring for his foes a pin,
With Bullets then he pierc'd their skin
and made them flye from his sight:
He there that time did credit win,
and now hath tane his last good night
And stately Cales can witness be,
even by his Proclamation right,
He did command them all straightly,
to have a care of Infants lives:
And that none should hurt man or wife,
which was against their right,
Therefore they pray'd for his long life,
which lately took his last good night.
Would God he ne'r had Ireland known,
nor set one foot on Flanders ground
Then might we well injoy'd our own,
where now our Jewel will not be found
Which makes our foes still abound,
trickling with salt tears in our sight,
To hear his name in our ears to sound,
Lord Deverux took his last good night.
Ashwednesday that dismal day,
when he came forth of his chamber door,
Upon a Scaffold there he saw,
his heads-man standing him before:
His Nobles all they did deplore,
sheding salt tears in his sight,
He said farewel to rich and poor,
at his good morrow and goodnight:
My Lords said he you stand but by,
to see performance of the Law,
It is I that have deserv'd to dye.
and yield my self unto the blow,
I have deserv'd to dye I know,
but ne'r against my Countries right,
Nor to my Queen was ever foe,
upon my death at my good night.
Farewel Elizabeth my gracious Queen,
God bless thee with thy council all,
Farewel my Knights of Chivalry,
farewel my Souldiers stout and tall.
Farewel the Commons great and small,
into the hands of men I light,
My life shall make amends for all,
for Essex bids the world good night.
Farewel dear wife and children three,
farewel my kind and tender son,
Comfort your selves mourn not for me,
although your fall be now begun,
My time is come my glass is run,
comfort your self in former light,
Seeing by my fall you are undone,
your father bids the world good night.
Derick thou know'st at Cales I sav'd
thy life lost for a Rape there done,
As thou thy self can'st testifie,
thine own hand three and twenty hung,
But now thou seest my self is come
by chance into thy hands I light,
Strike out thy blow that I may know,
thou Essex lov'd at his good night.
When England counted me a Papist,
the work of Papists I defie,
I ne'r worshipt saint nor Angel in heaven
nor the Virgin Mary I.
But to Christ which for my sins did dye,
trickling with Salt tears in his sight
Spreading my arms to God on high,
Lord Jesus receive my soul this night

Method of Punishment

beheading

Crime(s)

Treason

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Tower of London

Printing Location

Printed for W. Thackeray and T. Passinger
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/847 <![CDATA[A lamentable new Ballad upon the Earle of Essex his death. ]]> 2020-01-08T14:38:36+11:00

Title

A lamentable new Ballad upon the Earle of Essex his death.

Subtitle

To the tune of. The Kings last good-night.
A lamentable Ditty composed upon the death of Robert Lo[rd Devereux] late Earle of Essex, who was beheaded in the Tower of London, o[n Ashwenesday] in the morning, 1600.

Digital Object

Image / Audio Credit

Magdalene College - Pepys Library, Shelfmark: Pepys Ballds 1.106-107; EBBA 20044 // EBBA 32617

Set to tune of...

The Kings last good-night. // Welladay 

Transcription

ALL you that cry, O hone O hone
come now & sing O Lord with me
For why our Jewell is from us gone,
the valiant Knight of Chivalry:
Of rich and poore beloved was he,
in time an honourable Knight:
When by our Lawes condemnd was he
and lately tooke his last good-night.

Count him not like to Campion,
(these traiterous men) or Babington
Nor like the Earle of Westmerland,
by whom a number were undone:
He never yet hurt mothers son,
his quarell stil mantaind the right,
which maks the teares my cheks down run
when I think on his last goodnight.

The Portingals can witnesse be,
his Dagger at Lisbone gate he flung
And like a Knight of Chivalry,
his Chaine upon the same he hung,
would God that he would thither come
to fetch them both in order right,
Which thing was by his honour done,
yet lately tooke his last good-night.

The Frenchmen they can testifie,
the Towne of Gourney he tooke in,
And marchd to Rone immediately,
not caring for his foes a pin:
with bullets then he piercd their skin
and made them flee farre from his sight
He at that time did credit win,
and now hath tane his last good-night.

And stately Cales can witnesse well,
even by his Proclamation right:
He did command them all straitly,
to have a care of Infants lives:
That none should ravish maid nor wife
which was against their order right.
Therefore they prayd for his long life
which latly tooke his last good-night.

Would God he had nere Ireland known
nor set his feet on Flanders ground:
Then might we well enjoy our owne,
where now our jewel will not be found
Which makes our woes stil to abound
trickling with salt teares in our sight
to heare his name in our eares to sound
Lord Devereux took his last good-night

Ashwednesday that dismall day,
when he came forth of his chamber doore
Upon a Scaffold there he saw,
his headsman standing him before,
The Nobles all they did deplore.
shedding their salt teares in his sight
He said farewell to rich and poore.
at his good-morrow and good-night.

My Lords, quoth he, you stand but by,
to see performance of the Law?
Its I that have deservd to dye,
and yeeld my life unto the blow,
I have deservd to dye, I know,
but nere against my Countries right,
Nor to my Queene was never foe,
upon my death at my good-night.

farewel Elizabeth my gracious Queen
God blesse thee & thy Councell all
Farewell you Knights of Chivalry,
farewell my Souldiers stout and tall,
Farewell the Commons great & small,
into the hands of men I light.
My life shall make amends for all,
for Essex bids the world good-night.

Farewell deare wife & children three,
farewell my yong and tender son,
Comfort your selves mourne not for me,
although you fall be now begun,
My time is come, the glasse [i]s run,
comfort your selves, in former light
Seeing by my fall you are undone,
your father bids the world good-night

Dericke, thou knowest, at Cales I savd
thy life, lost for a Rape there done,
Which thou thy selfe canst testifie,
thine owne hand three & twenty hung,
But now thou seest my time is come,
by chance into thy hands I light,
Strike out the blow, that I may know,
thou Essex lovd at his good-night.

When England counted me a Papist,
the workes of Papists I defie,
I nere worshipt Saint, nor Angel in heaven,
nor to the Virgin Mary I,
But to Christ, which for my sins did die
trickling with sad teares in his sight,
Spreding my armes to God on high,
Lord Jesus receive my soule this night

//

[SWeet] Englands pride is gon,
welladay, welladay,
[Whi]ch makes her sigh and grone
evermore still:
[He] did her fame advance,
[In] Ireland, Spaine, and France,
[And] now by [?] all chance,
is from us tane.

[He] was a vertuous Peere,
welladay, welladay,
[And] was esteemed deare,
evermore still:
[He] alwayes helpt the poore,
which makes them sigh ful sore
His death they doe deplore,
in every place.

[Br]ave honour gracd him still,
gallantly, gallantly,
[He] nere did deed of ill,
well it is knowne,
[But] Envy that foule fiend,
[Wh]ose malice nere had end,
[Hath br]ought true vertues friend
[unto t]his thrall.

[At Tilt] he did surpasse,
gallantly, gallantly
[All men] that is and was
[eve]rmore still:
[One day as it] was seene,
[In honour of]our Queene
[Such deeds] nere bin seene,
[as he did do,]
[Abroad and eke a]t home,
[gallantly, galla]ntly,
[For valour there was] none,
[like him before,]
[But Ireland France and Spain,]
[That feared great Essexs na]me,

And England lovd the same,
in every place.

But all would not prevaile
welladay, welladay,
His deeds did not availe,
more was the pitty,
He was condemd to die,
for treason certainly,
But God that sits on high,
knoweth all things.

That Sunday in the morne,
welladay, welladay,
That he to the Citie came,
with all his troupe:
That first began the strife,
and causd him lose his life
And others did the like,
as well as hee

Yet her Princely Majesty,
graciously, graciously,
Hath pardon given free,
to many of them:
She hath releasd them quite
and given them their right,
They may pray day and night,
God to defend her.

Shrove tusday in the night,
welladay, welladay,
With a heavy hearted sprite,
as it is said:
The Lieutenant of the Tower,
who kept him in his power,
At ten a clocke that houre,
to him did come.

And said unto him there
mournfully, mournfully,
My Lord you must prepare,
to dye to morrow.
Gods will be done quoth he,
yet shall you strangely see
God strong in me to be,
though I am weake.

I pray you pray for me,
welladay, welladay:
That God may strengthen me,
against that houre:
Then straight way he did call
to the Guard under the wall,
And did intreat them all
for him to pray.

For to morrow is the day,
welladay, welladay,
That I the debt must pay,
which I doe owe:
It [is] my life I mean:
[Which I must pay the Queen]

Even so hath Justice given,
that I must dye.

In the morning was he brought
welladay, welladay,
Where a Scaffold was set up
within the Tower:
Many Lords were present then
with other Gentlemen,
Which were appointed then
to see him die.

You Noble Lords, quoth he,
welladay, welladay,
That must the witnesse be,
of this my death:
Know I never lovd Papistry,
but still did it defie,
And Essex thus did dye,
here in this place.

I have a sinner been,
welladay, welladay,
Yet never wrongd my Queene,
in all my life:
My God, I did offend,
which grives me at my end,
May all the rest amend,
I doe forgive them.

To the State I nere ment ill,
welladay, welladay,
Neither wisht the Commons il,
in all my life:
But lovd all with my heart,
and alwayes tooke their part,
Whereas there was desart,
in any place.

Then mildly did he crave,
mournfully, mournfully,
He might that fovour have,
private to pray:
He then praid heartily,
and with great ferver
To god that sits on hi[e]
for to receive him.

And then he praid ag[ain]
mournfully, mou[rnfully]
God to preserve [his Queen,]
from all her fo[es.]
And send her lo[ng to reign,]
true Justice [remain]
And not to le[t proud Spain]
once to of[fend her,]
His Gown [he stript off then]
wellada[y, welladay,]
And put [off his Hat and Band,]
and [hung them by,]
Pray[ing still continually,
[To God that sits on high,]

[Dev]ereux,
[Wed]nesday [Fragment from the far left of 1.106]

[That he m]ight patiently,
[then suf]fer death.

[My Heads-m]an that must be,
[then sa]id he cheerfully,
[Let him] come here to me,
[that I] may him see,
[Who kn]eeled to him then,
[Art th]ou (quoth he) the man,
[Who art] appointed now,
[my lif]e to free.

[Yes my] Lord, did he say,
[wella]day, welladay,
[Forgiv]e me, I you pray,
[for this i]s your death,
[I here d]oe thee forgive,
[And m]ay true Justice live,
[No foul]e crime to forgive,
[With]in their place.

[Then h]e kneeld downe againe,
[mour]nfully, mournfully,
[And wa]s required by some,
[there] standing by:
[To forg]ive his enemies,
[Before] death close his eyes,
[Which he] did in hearty wise,
[thankin]g them for it.

[That they] would remember him
[welladay] welladay,
[That he m]ight forgive them all,
[that hath] him wrongd,
[Now my L]ords I take my leave
[Sweet Chr]ist my soule receive,
[Now when] you will prepare,
[I am] ready.

[He laid his he]ad on the blocke,
[welladay,] welladay,
[But his Dou]blet let the stroke,
[But he ther]e did say:
[What must] be done (quoth he)
[Shall be d]one presently,
[There his d]oublet off put he,
[and layd d]owne againe.

[Then the H]eadsman did his part.
[cruelly,]cruelly,
[He was ne]ver seene to start,
[for all t]he blowes:
[His soul now] it is at rest,
[In heav]en amongst the blest,
[Where G]od send us to rest,
[when it] shall please him.

Method of Punishment

beheading

Crime(s)

treason

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Tower of London

Printing Location

London for C. W.

Notes

damaged, lots of missing words. Think it begins on right hand side, not sure if it's two ballads or one weirdly printed
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/848 <![CDATA[A letter to Rome, to declare to ye Pope, Iohn Felton his freend is hangd in a rope: ]]> 2021-06-12T11:22:08+10:00

Title

A letter to Rome, to declare to ye Pope, Iohn Felton his freend is hangd in a rope:

Subtitle

And farther, a right his grace to enforme, He dyed a Papist, and seemd not to turne.

Synopsis

The singer gleefully transmits the news of John Felton's execution to the Pope, sarcastically asking him to gather up the parts of his body now strewn around London, and to rescue his soul from Purgatory. For more on Felton's life, see notes below the ballad.

Digital Object


Image / Audio Credit

Huntington Library - Britwell, Shelfmark: HEH18325; EBBA 32412. Audio recording by Jenni Hyde.

Set to tune of...

Transcription

A letter to Rome, to declare to ye Pope,
Iohn Felton his freend is hangd in a rope:
And farther, a right his grace to enforme,
He dyed a Papist, and seemd not to turne.

To the tune of Row well ye Mariners.

WHo keepes Saint Angell gates?
Where lieth our holy father say?
I muze that no man waytes,
Nor comes to meete me on the way.
Sir Pope I say? yf you be nere,
Bow downe to me your listning eare:
Come forth, besturre you then a pace,
Fo I haue newes to show your grace.
Stay not, come on,
That I from hence were shortly gon:
Harke well, heare mee,
What tidings I haue brought to thee

The Bull so lately sent
To England by your holy grace,
Iohn Felton may repent
For settyng vp the same in place:
For he vpon a goodly zeale
He bare vnto your common weale
Hath ventured lyfe to pleasure you,
And now is hangd, I tell you true.
Wherfore, sir Pope,
In England haue you lost your hope.
Curse on, spare not,
Your knights are lyke to go to pot.

But further to declare,
He dyed your obedient chylde:
And neuer seemd to spare,
For to exalt your doctrine wylde:
And tolde the people euery one
He dyed your obedient sonne
And as he might, he did set forth,
Your dignitie thats nothyng worth.
Your trash, your toyes,
He toke to be his onely ioyes:
Therfore, hath wonne,
Of you the crowne of martirdome.

Let him be shryned then
Accordyng to his merits due,
As you haue others doen
That proue vnto their Prince vntrue:
For these (sir Pope) you loue of lyfe,
That wt their Princes fall at stryfe:
Defendyng of your supreame powre,
Yet som haue paid ful deare therfore.
As now, lately,
Your freend Iohn Felton seemd to try
Therfore, I pray,
That you a masse for him wyll say.

Ryng all the belles in Rome
To doe his sinful soule some good,
Let that be doen right soone
Because that he hath shed his blood,
His quarters stand not all together
But ye mai hap to ring them thether
In place where you wold haue them be
Then might you doe as pleaseth ye.
For whye? they hang,
Vnshryned each one vpon a stang:
Thus standes, the case,
On London gates they haue a place.

His head vpon a pole
Stands waueri~g in ye wherli~g wynd,
But where shoulde be his soule
To you belongeth for to fynd:
I wysh you Purgatorie looke
And search each corner wt your hooke,
Lest it might chance or you be ware
The Deuyls to catce him in a snare.
Yf ye, him see,
From Purgatorie set him free:
Let not, trudge than,
Fetch Felton out and yf ye can.

I wysh you now sir Pope
To loke vnto your faithful freendes,
That in your Bulles haue hope
To haue your pardon for their sinnes,
For here I tell you, euery Lad
Doth scoff & scorne your bulles to bad,
And thinke they shall the better fare
For hatyng of your cursed ware.
Now doe, I end,
I came to show you as a frend:
Whether blesse, or curse,
You send to me, I am not the worse.

Steuen Peele.

FINIS.

Composer of Ballad

Steuen Peele

Method of Punishment

hanging, quartering

Crime(s)

high treason

Gender

Date

Execution Location

St Paul's Churchyard, London

Printing Location

London, by Alexander Lacie for Henrie Kyrkham, dwellyng at the signe of the blacke Boy: at the middle North dore of Paules church.

Tune Data

Composer of tune: C. B. Hardman

Notes

Wikipedia: Blessed John Felton (died 8 August 1570) was an English Catholic martyr, who was executed during the reign of Elizabeth I.

Almost all of what is known about Felton's background comes from the narrative of his daughter, Frances Salisbury. The manuscript that holds her story has a blank where his age should be, but it does say that he was a wealthy man of Norfolk ancestry, who lived at Bermondsey Abbey near Southwark. He "was a man of stature little and of complexion black". His wife had been a playmate of Elizabeth I, a maid-of-honour to Queen Mary and the widow of one of Mary's auditors (a legal official of the papal court). He was the father of Blessed Thomas Felton.

Felton was arrested for fixing a copy of Pope Pius V's Bull Regnans in Excelsis ("reigning on high"), excommunicating Queen Elizabeth, to the gates of the Bishop of London's palace near St. Paul's. This was a significant act of treason as the document, which released Elizabeth's subjects from their allegiance, needed to be promulgated in England before it could take legal effect. The deed brought about the end of the previous policy of tolerance towards those Catholics who were content occasionally to attend their parish church while keeping their true beliefs to themselves. The reaction seemed soon to be justified: it was the publication in England of Pius's exhortation that gave the impetus to the Ridolfi plot, in which the Duke of Norfolk was to kidnap or murder Queen Elizabeth, install Mary, Queen of Scots, on the throne and then become de facto king by marrying her.

The law records say that the act was committed around eleven at night on 24 May 1570, but Salisbury claims it happened between two and three in the morning of the following day, the Feast of Corpus Christi. Felton had received the bulls in Calais and given one to a friend, William Mellowes of Lincoln's Inn. This copy was discovered on 25 May and after being racked, Mellowes implicated Felton, who was arrested on 26 May. Felton immediately confessed and glorified in his deed, "treasonably declar[ing] that the queen... ought not to be the queen of England", but he was still racked as the authorities were seeking, through his testimony, to implicate Guerau de Spes, the Ambassador of Spain, in the action. He was condemned on 4 August and executed by hanging four days later in St. Paul's Churchyard, London. He was cut down alive for quartering, and his daughter says that he uttered the holy name of Jesus once or twice when the hangman had his heart in his hand. He was beatified in 1886 by Pope Leo XIII.
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/849 <![CDATA[A looking-glass for traytors]]> 2020-01-08T16:02:52+11:00

Title

A looking-glass for traytors

Subtitle

or, High treason rewarded being a full account of the examination of the second person that was executed in Novem. 1678 by name, Edward Coleman, Esq, who was found guilty of high treason, at the Kings-Bench-Bar at VVestminter, the 27th of Nov. 1678 for plotting and contriving the death of our soveraign Lord the King, and endeavouring to change the government of the nation and utterly to extirpate the protestant religion, for which he was sentenced to be drawn, hang'd and quartered being accordingly executed the 3d. day of this instant Decemb. at Tyburn, tune of, Aim not too high, or, Fortune my foe.

Digital Object

Image / Audio Credit

Bodleian Library, University of Oxford, Shelmark: Wood E 25. fol. (33); Broadside Ballads Online Bod881

Set to tune of...

Transcription

TIME and DEATH'S Advise to all VVicked Livers.
Beware in TIME, too High don't Climb,
for Fear you catch a Fall,
For if you do, 'tis even True,
Squire Katch will Pay you all.

Let all bold Traytors here come take a view,
How ancient Tiburn doth receive its due:
There dark designs, and hidden Treachery,
Will bring them all unto the tripple Tree.

Here Coleman, their Ring leader of great fame,
Hath brought himself unto his end with shame:
By striving to be great before his time,
He became guilty of a Horrid Crime.

Ambition is a bait the Devil lays,
To catch such haughty Spirits now adays:
And when that he hath cauht them in the Trap,
He gives them o're to ruine and mishap.

Too many are concerned in this thing,
Against Religion, and our gracious King:
But I shall now, the world to satisfie,
Tell how this grand offender came to dye.

The Prisoner being brought to VVestminster,
And there in Court, Indicted at the Bar:
His Crimes were all laid open unto view,
As horrid things, as ever Christian knew.

Now that he did contrive a fearful thing,
For to destroy our Soveraign Lord the King:
To change the fundamental Laws o'th Land,
As by the Sequel you shall understand.

To bring in Popery with all his might,
And true Religion for to banish quite:
With fire and sword, for to destroy and burn,
True Protestants, or force them for to turn.

The Evidence against him did appear,
And prov'd the accusation to be clear:
His [???} evasions could not satisfie,
The truth was as apparent as the sky.

The Tryal lasted for eight hours at least,
Where multitudes of people throng'd and prest:
Before my Lord Chief Justice he was try'd,
And many other Learned men beside.

At length the Jury in their verdict brought,
And in the Court declared as they ought:
The Prisoner of High Treason guilty was,
But being night, no sentence then did pass.

Next morning he was brought unto the bar,
Where Sentence did proceed on him so far:
That he should draw, & Hang'd, & quartered be,
For this his Treason, and his Treachery.

This was his fact and his sad fatal doom,
He gain'd by being an Agent for Rome:
I wish that all their factors which they send,
May come like him, to an untimely end.

For why they are of a malicious mind,
And unto blood and cruelty inclin'd:
They strive to bring to ruine a whole Land,
And make those fall, whom God ordains to stand.

But yet the Lord can frustrate their intent,
Although they daily are on mischief bent;
In his good time he will their Plots disclose,
That Justice may take place on such as those.

If that we serve our Maker as we ought,
He their contrivances will bring to naught:
That we may see the sad and dismal fall,
Of such as would bring ruine to us all.

But now is come his Execution day,
Where people flockt to hear what he would say:
Where for his Love and Favour to the Pope,
Iack Katch did fit him with a Hempon Rope.

His Quarters on the Gates they do expose,
To be a Terrour to the Kingdoms Foes:
That Traitours may example take thereby,
Least that they come to endless misery.

Then let all Loyal subjects have a care,
They be no drawn into the Popish snare,
And so God bless our King and Parliament,
And grant that of our sins we may repent.

Method of Punishment

hanging, drawing and quartering

Crime(s)

high treason

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Tyburn

Printing Location

London, printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, and I. Clarke

Tune Data

Fortune my Foe, is also known as Aim not too high

Notes

Wikipedia:  Edward Colman or Coleman (17 May 1636-1678) was an English Catholic courtier under Charles II of England. He was hanged, drawn and quartered on a treason charge, having been implicated by Titus Oates in his false accusations concerning a Popish Plot. He is a Catholic martyr, beatified by Pope Pius XI in 1929.

There was no proof of connivance with a plot for assassination or rebellion except the testimony of Oates and Bedloe. The jury found Coleman guilty. Scroggs replied to his solemn declarations of innocence,'Mr. Coleman, your own papers are enough to condemn you.' Next morning sentence of death and confiscation of property was pronounced, and on Tuesday, 3 December, he was executed, avowing his faith and declaring his innocence.
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/952 <![CDATA[A looking-glass for vvanton women by the example and expiation of Mary Higgs ]]> 2021-06-23T09:38:01+10:00

Title

A looking-glass for vvanton women by the example and expiation of Mary Higgs

Subtitle

who was executed on Wednesday the 18th of July 1677 for committing the odious sin of burgery with her dog who was hanged on a tree the same day neer the place of execution shewing her penitent behaviour and last speech at the gallows, tune of In summer time.

Synopsis

Mary Higgs, executed for 'buggery' with her dog. It was a genuine case, recorded here in the Old Bailey Proceedings. The dog was also hanged alongside her.

Digital Object


Image notice

Full size images of all ballad sheets available at the bottom of this page.

Image / Audio Credit

Bodleian Library, University of Oxford, Wood E 25 fol. (145), Wing / 2852:09. EEBO record (institutional login required). Audio recording by Hannah Sullivan. 

Set to tune of...

In Summer Time

Transcription

To a sad story now give ear,
of one who lived in this Land,
It may make the stoutest heart to fear,
and all vile Sinners trembling stand.

A wicked woman liv'd of late,
who did all honesty didain;
All Modesty she much did hate,
and to her death did so remain.

Lasciviousness she much did love,
and Buggery was her delight,
To wantonness she still did move,
not thinking it would come to light.

A Mungril Curr which she did keep,
and us'd to do that beastly act,
In Court on her did fawn and leap,
but now hath suffered for the fact.

Near Cripple-gate her dwelling-place,
where she did act this beastly sin,
Which now hath brought her to disgrace
that she long time hath wallowed in.

She took delight in drunkenness,
and as a Common Woman ?,
When she had drunk unto excess,
then God above she would defie.

Her chief desire was after mirth,
and hearing of sweet Melodies,
Thus while? she lived upon the earth,
gods holy Laws she did despise.

No precepts that could her controul,
so wicked was her wretched life,
She like a Swine in mire did rowl,
which with her Husband caus'd some strife.

Gods Holy word she much abus'd,
and did profane his Sabbath day,
The company of those refus'd
who urg'd her to Repent and Pray.

There's scarce a sin that can be nam'd,
but what she striv'd for to commit,
Her Lustful lmind was so inflam'd,
that by no means she could quench it.

But being now Condemn'd by Law,
on her past life she did reflect,
The Worm of Conscience did her gnaw,
'cause Gods Commands she did neglect.

O World, said she, thou canst not save,
this soul of mine from pain and woe,
No joys of heaven I e're shall have,
unless my sins I can forgo.

O eyes of mine that us'd to see,
and take delight in Objects fair,
Must now behold where Devils be,
poor Souls tormented in dispair.

I that was wont to sport and play,
most wantonly in many a place,
Must now depart from them away,
the Flames of hell for to imbrace,

Now unto you that stand me by,
and hear what case my soul is in,
See that you never guilty be,
of any sad and heinous sin.

Let Prayer be your meat and drink,
your cloathing be humilitie,
On Gods just Laws be sure to think,
that you the joys of Heaven may see.

When this sad wretch her speech had done
and tears in streaks run down her face;
Would melt a heart of steel or stone,
to think upon her woful case.

The Dog was hang'd with her just by,
a sad example let it be,
To all that do Gods laws defie,
and live as wickedly as she.

Strive more & more Gods ways to love,
that you may here live happily;
Then you'l not miss sweet joys above,
nor never be afraid to dye.

FINIS.

Crime(s)

buggery with dog; bestiality

Gender

Date

Printing Location

[S.l.] : Printed for P. Brooksby at the Goldene Ball in West-Smith-Field neer the Hospital Gate
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/850 <![CDATA[A Mirror of mans lyfe made by a modest virgine Fransisca Chauesia a Nonne of the cloyster of S. Elizabeth in Spaine burned for the profession of the gospell. ]]> 2020-01-08T14:39:55+11:00

Title

A Mirror of mans lyfe made by a modest virgine Fransisca Chauesia a Nonne of the cloyster of S. Elizabeth in Spaine burned for the profession of the gospell.

Subtitle

[with separate but related verse following]

Synopsis

Axon reports that Francesca de Chaves was a nun of the order of St. Francis of Assisi who belonged to the convent of Santa Isabel in Seville, whereas the title of the broadsheet declares her to be of the cloister of St. Elizabeth. With twelve other victims, she was burned by the Inquisition on 22 Dec 1560, at the auto-da-fe in Seville.

Digital Object

Image / Audio Credit

Chetam's Library - Halliwell-Phillipps, Shelfmark: H.P.469; EBBA 36173

Transcription

THe onely God of Israell,
Be praysed evermore:
For that to gloryfie his name,
his sayntes he kepes in store.
And to declare his wonderous workes,
which past the witte of man:
How his most pure and sacred worde.
unto this virgine came.
Who closed was a cloyster Nonne,
and drownd in fylthy sinke:
By taking of the Romish cuppe,
and tasting of her drinke.
Through which both soule & body tread,
the beaten pathes to hell:
Be rent and torne in fylthy lake,
with Deviles ferce and fell.
But God in Christ our Saviour,
this Mayden toke to grace:
Who banisht quite all romish ragges,
and gods word dyd imbrace.
As in this mirrour you may see,
made by this martir bright:
Which is a lanterne to our steppes,
of pure and perfite light.
And to confirme the truth therof,
dyd seale it with her death:
With stedfast fayth in fiery flame,
dyd end her vitall breath.
O virgine pure thou art right sure,
with Christ to rayne, & grace obtaine:
Wherfore to pray, let us not staye,
our sinnes t'unfold, to God be bold.
Einis. quod. T.W.
This godly crosserowe, to christians I send with hartie desire there lives to amend.
A.
ALl faythfull hartes that feareth God,
drawe neare behold and see:
What fiery torments I abode,
for Christes most veritie,
For true it is the wicked hate.
the godly and their wayes:
with cruell deathes they bragge and prate,
whose spite right sone decayes.

B.
Beare not yourselves ye Papistes bold
In frutelesse hope to trust:
Thinking to mend whan ye ware olde,
that sinne is nert the worst.
Be rather wise and circumspecte,
repent while ye have space:
For those that be of God rejecte,
remayne in dolefull place.

C.
Consider well and call to mind,
what counsell Christ doth geve:
Unto all such as sekes to fynde,
how by his word to lyve.
Commaunding us ech one, to love,
and in him fire our fayth:
Who spent his bloud for our behoulfe,
as holy Scripture sayth.

D.
Disdayne not for to helpe the poore,
ye rich that may do so:
Who calles on you both day and night,
be wrapt in payne and woe.
For who so doth the poore despise,
and from their ayd refrayne:
From such the Lord wyll turne his eyes,
In their most nede and payne.

E.
Employe yourselves to eche intent,
that gods word doth amitte:
Obey your Prince whom he hath sent,
In Judgement seate to sitte.
Envye not ye the lowest sorte,
Nor strive not with the bande:
So shall ye winne a good reporte,
where that ye dwell on lande.

F.
Feare not those furious faythlesse sorte,
that dayly lye in wayte:
To shed your bloud they have a sporte,
and make your flesh their bayte.
For he, whose fayth you do profes,
hath promised you in dede:
For to destroye there cruelnes,
and be your helpe at nede

G.
Gape not gredely goods to gette,
the rich mans goods doth rest:
Remember flesh to be wormes meate,
from it departe we must.
Then lyve we heare whyles we abyde,
to profite our soules health:
For death he tarieth not the tyde,
but crepts on us by stealth.

H.
Hotnes of harte se that yee hate,
all ye that do love truth:
Which doth but move stryfe and debate,
eche where in age and youth.
Be poore in spirite, and meke withall,
In harte loke not aloft:
Who climmeth hyghe most lowe doth fall,
such sightes are sene full oft.

I.
Incline your eares to heare their cause,
that are with wronge opprest:

Ye ministers of Christian lawes,
to you I make request.
Let not the poore man be debarde,
to serve the riche mans turne:
If ye so do your just reward,
shall be in hell to burne.

K.
Kepe clene yourselves from fleshly deds
uncleanes put awaye:
For harlots breathes are stinking wedes
appeare they never so gaye.
Most poyson dartes they are iwysse,
that falles with such a breath:
Loke where they light they seldom misse
but strikes unto the death.

L.
Let godly love in you remaine,
and first and principall:
Above all thinges love God certayne,
your neighbour next of all.
If you so lyve without all stryfe,
then are you of that sorte:
Of whom S. John hath written ryfe,
and made a just reporte.

M
Measure by truth your graine & corne
all ye that selles the same:
Be not at any tyme forsworne,
In earnest or in game.
Nor covet for to sell more dere,
but as you may aforth:
Small tyme we have to tary here,
this lyfe is lytle worth.

N.
Note well the substance of this bill,
and what is herein pend:
Then shall ye not delite in yll,
nor yet therto attend.
Condemne it not though it be rude,
all doth not write lyke fyne:
With counsell good it is indued,
to it therfore incline.

O.
Offer to God the sacrifice,
that his word doth allowe:
Obey the powers in humble wise,
unto them see you bowe.
Who strives with them resisteth God,
as Scripture doth expresse:
They are the very skourge and rodde,
for such as do transgresse,

P.
Pitie the poore that faine would lyve
with labour of their handes:
With wrong do not your tenants greve,
you that be men of landes.
As Christian brethern ought to bee,
In fayth so to professe:
Leave of therfore your crueltie,
and practise gentlenes.

Q.
Quietly deale, quarell not yee,
that loves to lyve in rest:
This is most true to eche degree,
a quiet lyfe is best.
For quarells doth ingenger stryfe,
by stryfe oft tymes doth growe:
Such happe that some doth lose their life
they reape as they doe sowe,

R.
Ryote refrayne let reason guide
for ryote bringeth wracke:
For reason doe thou sure provide
before the time of lack.

And if in wealth you happe to flowe,
spend not away to fast,
Lest you come home by ragmans rowe,
with nifles at the last.

S.
Slaunder no weight therof beware,
evill tonges they are so vile,
That ofte they wrappe themselves in snare,
wherat their foe doth smile,
Commit your cause to god therfore,
vengeance saith he is myne.
His merry is also in store,
to those that trust in time.

T.
Trust not the trifeling talkers tale,
till truth the same have tried:
Such bringeth men oft times in bale,
this cannot be denied.
Nedes must he lye that bableth much,
note this for your discharge:
Avoyd therfore from you all such,
whose tongues doth runne at large.

V.
Vyle wanton wayes se you none use
at no tyme day nor night:
Thy fayth Christ may ne will refuse,
to speake the hartes delight.
The godly man from his good thought,
of godlines doth talke:
The wicked man in fancye nought,
his tongue doth ever walke.

X.
Christe graunt us all that do professe,
his faythfull flocke to be:
That our good works may show no lesse
but with our fayth agree.
Dead is that fayth as James doth say,
where good dedes wanteth place:
That we may dwell in Christ alwaye,
he graunt us of his grace.

Y.
Yeld laude and prayse to god above,
whose most high majestie
Sent downe his sonne for our behouf:
our saviour for to be.
Whose death hath done our sinnes away
as scripture doth record.
Let us therfore both night and daye,
geve thankes unto the Lord.

Z.
Zeale to the truth hath moved me,
this dittie to set forth:
Most humbly praying ech degree,
to take it in good worth.
None other thing is ment therby,
to witnes God I take:
But that we should lyve Christianly,
and Sathans wayes forsake.

&.
& for the same accomplishment,
with meekenes let us pray:
To God the Lord omnipotent,
that he with us alway.
Vouchsafe his holy spirite to dwel,
to guide our hartes aright:
That we may walke in his gospell,
as Children of his light.

Composer of Ballad

T. VV.

Method of Punishment

burning

Crime(s)

heresy

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Seville

Printing Location

London, Fletestrete at the signe of the Faucon by Wylliam Griffith.
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/851 <![CDATA[A most ioyfull Songe, made in the behalfe of all her Maiesties faithfull and louing Subiects: ]]> 2020-01-08T14:40:10+11:00

Title

A most ioyfull Songe, made in the behalfe of all her Maiesties faithfull and louing Subiects:

Subtitle

of the great ioy, which was made in London. at the taking of the late trayterous Conspirators, which sought oportunity to kyll her Maiesty, to spoyle the Cittie, and by forraigne inuasion to ouerrun the Realme: for the which haynous Treasons, fourteen of them haue suffred death on the 20. &, 21. of Sept. Also, a detestation against those Conspira|tors, and all their Confederates, giuing God the prayse for the safe preseruation of her maiesty, and their subuersion. Anno. Domini. 1586.

Synopsis

This ballad only reports the taking of the prisoners, and is printed a month before the execution.

Digital Object

Image / Audio Credit

Society of Antiquaries of London - Broadsides, Shelmark Cab Lib g, no. 83; EBBA 36315

Set to tune of...

O man in desperation

Transcription

A most ioyfull Songe, made in the behalfe of all her Maiesties faithfull and louing Subiects: of the great ioy, which was made in London. at the taking of the late trayterous Conspirators, which sought oportunity to kyll her Maiesty, to spoyle the Cittie, and by forraigne inuasion to ouerrun the Realme: for the which haynous Treasons, fourteen of them haue suffred death on the 20. &, 21. of Sept. Also, a detestation against those Conspira|tors, and all their Confederates, giuing God the prayse for the safe preseruation of her maiesty, and their subuersion. Anno. Domini. 1586.

To the tune of: O man in desperation.

OH Englishmen with Romish harts, what Deuil doth bewitch you,
To seke the spoyle of Prince and Realme, like Traytors most vntrue.
Why is your duetie so forgot, vnto your Royall Qu_ene,
That you your faith and promise breake, O viperous broode vncl_ene.

Blessed be God who knew your thought, and brought your treason out:
And your destruction now hath wrought that made vs so in doubt.
For if you might haue had your willes to make your bloudie day,
Many a widowe and fatherlesse childe, had then cryed wellaway.

Many a Citie had bene sackt, whose houses had bene firde.
Yea, many a Peere had lost his life, these fruits you all desirde,
But now fourteene of you haue felt, that death you haue deserued,
And God (in mercie) from your hands, our prince and vs preserued.

And would you seeke your Countries spoyle, your Mother and your Nurse,
That fostred you and brought you vp, what treason may be wurse?
Why is your false and poysoned harts, surprised with such hate,
That you must nedes by forraigne power, suppresse your happy state.

Why doo you beare such foolish loue vnto the Ragges of Rome,
That you would seke swete Englands spoyle, and Princes deadly doome,
Will nothing serue your deuillish turne in this your deadly strife,
But euen the blood of your good Quene, and her to reaue of life.

Doo you not know there is a God, that guides her night and day,
Who doth reueale her foes attempts, and brings them to decay,
O wicked men with Tygers harts, nay Monsters I should say,
That sekes to spoyle so good a Quene, as none the like this day.

Her tender loue, procures your hate, her mercie makes you bolde,
Her gentle sufferaunce of your pride, presumptuous vncontrolde,
Doth make you to forget your God, your selues and dueties all,
Whereby you bend your busie braines to mischiefe and to thrall.

Know you not who her highnes is? King Henries daughter dere,
The mightiest Monarche in his dayes, or hath bene many a yere:
She is our Prince and soueraigne Quene, annointed by Gods grace,
To set forth his most sacred word, his enimies to deface.

Haue you not holy scripures read, how byrds with fluttering winges,
A Traytours thought they will betray against annoynted Kinges,
God will no secret treason hide, against a wicked Prince,
Much more, for safety of the good, their foes he will conuince.

Therefore you cruell cankred crue, why seke you mischiefe still,
For to attempt with violent handes, Gods chosen for to kill.
How dare you once in hollow hart, thinke ill of such a Quene,
Whom God himselfe doth fauour so, as like was neuer sene.

Haue you such wicked hatefull hartes, in thirsting after blood,
That with false Iudas you can beare, two faces in one hoode?
Too often hath her Maiesty behelde without mistrust,
The outwarde smiles of Crokadiles, whose harts were most vniust.

O liuing Lord who would suppose that vnder veluets fine,
Such cankred poyson should be hid, as hath bene found this time.
Is this the precious faithfull fruite, which doth from Papists spring?
Are these the workes whereby they thinke Gods Kingdome for to win?

Is not their gredie thirsting throates yet satisfied with blood?
When as it streamde downe Paris streets, much like to Nylus flood.
Or are they not yet dronke enough, in quaffing bloody bowles,
But looke they for a second draught among vs English soules.

O England, England yet reioice, thy God beholdeth all,
And he hath giuen for euermore thy foes a shamefull fall.
By him all Kinges and Princes raigne, he giues them life and breath,
He hath set vp and will maintaine our Queene Elizabeth.

The secret drift and ill intent, of her late hatefull foes,
Vnto all faithfull Subiects ioyes, the Lord did well disclose.
Yea many Traytors false of faith, through his most mighty power,
Are taken in most happy time, and sent vnto the Towre.

Which happy sight for all to see, did glad eche Subiect true,
And many thousands ranne apace, those Caytiues vile to viewe.
Whom when the people did espie, they cryed lowde and shryll,
There goe the Traytors false of faith, which sought our Queene to kill.

There goe the wretched wicked ones, her Citie meant to spoyle,
And murther all her Citizens, but now they haue the foyle.
There goe the enimies of the Realme, did thinke to ouerrunne
All England: to let in the Pope, but now Gods will is doone.

God sent them now their due deserts, as they in hart conspyrde,
To take away our gracious Queene, and Citie to haue fyrde.
God graunt we neuer liue to see, that dismall day to haue,
Who blesse our noble Qu_ene and Realme, and eke her Citie saue.

And thus the people still did cry, both men and women all,
And children yong did shout alowde, and Traytors Traytors call.
Yea thousands trudging to and fro, to meete them still did runne,
And some stoode fasting all the day, till that day light was doone.

To see these Traytors taken so, their harts for ioy did spring,
And to declare this perfect ioy, some ranne the Belles to ring.
The Belles I say did brauely ring, that day and all the night,
And throughout stately London streetes reioyced euery wight.

And when the day was past and gone, and that the night drewe neere,
The worthy Citizens many a one, prepared their good cheare.
And Bondfyres did they merely make, through all the streetes that time,
And in the streetes their Tables stoode, prepared braue and fine.

They came together (gladly all, and there did mery make,
And gaue God thankes with cheerefull hates, for Queene Elizabeths sake.
In solempne Psalmes they sung full sweete, the prayse of God on hie,
Who now and euer keepes our Queene from Traytors tyranny.

But when our noble gratious Queene, did vnderstand this thing,
She writ a letter presently, and seald it [...]th her Ring.
A Letter such of royall loue, vnto her Subiectes eares,
That mooued them from watry eyes, to shed forth ioyfull teares.

O noble Queene without compare, our harts doth bleed for woe,
To thinke that Englishmen should seeke, thy life to ouerthroe.
But here we humbly do protest, oh gracious Queene to thee,
That Londoners will be loyall still, whilst life in them shall be.

And all that would not gladly so, spend forth their dearest bloode,
God giue to them a shamefull ende, and neuer other good.
And Lord with hart to thee we pray, preserue our noble Queene,
And still confound her hatefull foes, as they haue alwayes beene.

FINIS.


T. D.

Composer of Ballad

T.D. Thomas Deloney

Method of Punishment

hanging, drawing and quartering

Crime(s)

high treason

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Lincoln's Inn Field

Printing Location

London, by Richard Iones

Notes

Wikipedia: John Ballard was arrested on 4 August 1586, and presumably under torture he confessed and implicated Babington. Although Babington was able to receive the forged letter with the postcript, he was not able to reply with the names of the conspirators, as he was arrested while seeking a licence to travel in order to see King Philip II of Spain, with the purpose of organising a foreign expedition as well as ensuring his own safety.

The identities of the six conspirators were nevertheless discovered, and they were taken prisoner by 15 August 1586. Mary's two secretaries, Claude de la Boisseliere Nau (d. 1605) and Gilbert Curle (d. 1609), were likewise taken into custody and interrogated. The conspirators were sentenced to death for treason and conspiracy against the crown, and were sentenced to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. This first group included Babington, Ballard, Chidiock Tichborne, Sir Thomas Salisbury, Robert Barnewell, John Savage and Henry Donn. A further group of seven men, Edward Habington, Charles Tilney, Edward Jones, John Charnock, John Travers, Jerome Bellamy, and Robert Gage, were tried and convicted shortly afterward. Ballard and Babington were executed on September 20 along with the other men who had been tried with them.

Such was the horror of their execution that Queen Elizabeth ordered the second group to be allowed to hang until dead before being disembowelled. Queen Mary herself went to trial at Fotheringhay Castle in Northamptonshire and denied her part in the plot, but her correspondence was the evidence; therefore, Mary was sentenced to death. Elizabeth signed her cousin's death warrant, and on 8 February 1587, in front of 300 witnesses, Mary, Queen of Scots, was executed by beheading.
]]>
https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/852 <![CDATA[A Mournful poem on the death of John Ormsby and Matthew Cushing]]> 2020-01-10T14:23:56+11:00

Title

A Mournful poem on the death of John Ormsby and Matthew Cushing

Subtitle

who were appointed to be executed on Boston Neck, the 17th of October, 1734.

Image / Audio Credit

Pamphlet location: AAS Record Number: 0F2F82324DC36830, Record Number: w026284
Recorded in Early American Imprints, Series 1, no. 40054 (filmed)

Transcription

You Sinners all, both young and old
attend to what I write,
And hy to Heart while you have Time,
this sad and doleful Sight.
Behold, I say, two Sinful Men,
who for their wicked Crimes,
Are hast'ning to the Gallows Tree
to Die before their Times,
Who being wicked overmuch,
can't live not half their Days,
This is the Portion of all such
as follow sinful Ways.
Behold poor Ormsby now in Chains;
with sad, and heavy Heart,
Approaching to the Place where he
will have his Just Desert.
No hope of Favour can he have,
from any human Hand,
The Blood which he has spilt must be
purged from off the Land.
Yet if he in Sincerity
to God his Pray'r does make,
He may find Mercy at his Hand,
for Jesus Christ his sake.
And we the Pleasure have to see
him mourning for his Sin.
Lamenting all the crooked Ways
that he has walked in.
He does lament his Drunkenness,
and every other Sin,
And keeping evil Comopany,
which has his ruin been.
His hasty Temper he bewails,
and cruel Passion,
In which he did the Fact that proves
his own Destruction.
Behold poor Cushing coming next,
just in his youthful Prime,
Whose Life is forfeited also,
by his most heinous Crime.
And tho' his Crime is short of that
for which Ormsby must die,
Yet by the Law 'tis Death for those
guilty of Burglary.
Oh! that all Thieves would Warning take,
by his most tragick End,
And would now without more Delay
their Lives and Actions mend.
For what great Profit does he gain
who Robs without Controul,
And wallows for a while in Wealth,
yet loses his own Soul?
He thought (no doubt) the darksom Night
would have conceal'd his Crime.
But it was brought to open Light
within a little Time.
By which we all may plainly see
there is no Place upon
This spacious Earth where Sinners may
hide their Transgression.
Oh! may the Fate of this young Man
scarce turn'd of Twenty Three,
A Warning prove to all our Youth,
of high and low Degree.
And let this Warning loud and shrill
be heard by ev'ry one,
O do no more such Wickedness
as has of late been done.
Lament and wail his woful Caase,
and by him Warning take;
A Sight I think enough to make
a Heart of Stone to ake.

Epitaph upon John Ormsby.
Here lies (hard by an ignominious Tree)
The Body of unhappy John Ormsby;
Who dy'd for murd'ring of poor Thomas Bell,
A Pris'ner with him in the common Goal.
Somme sudden Frenzy surely seiz'd they Brain,
Or this poor harmless Man had ne're been slain.
Madness indeed, thus to assault a Friend,
Who ne're in all his Life did thee offend;
And leave him helpless welt'ring in his Gore,
Almost depriv'd of Life upon the Floor:
And not content with this most horrid Deed,
Thou didst assault another Man with Speed,
And hadst most surely kill'd him on the Spot,
With that uncommon Weapon, a Quart Pot,
(Which had dispatch'd poor Bell but just before,
Who then lay bleeding on the Prison Floor)
Had not the Keeper come i'th'Nick of Time,
And sav'd thee from a second bloody Crime.

On Matthew Cushing
Here lies the Body of young Matthew Cushing,
Whose Crimes cannot be mention'd without blushing:
He by the Province Law was doom'd to die,
For the detested Crime of Burglary.
He broke open the House of Joseph Cook,
A Shoe-Maker in Town, and from him took
Some wearing CLoaths, and two Gowns from his Wife,
For which alas! he pays them with his Life.
Oh! may their Deaths a Warning be to all,
Inclin'd to Theft or Murder, great and small.

Good People all I you beseech
To buy the Verse as well as SPEECH.

Sold at the Heart and Crown in Boston.

Method of Punishment

hanging

Crime(s)

burglary, murder

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Boston Neck

Printing Location

[Boston] Sold [by Thomas Fleet] at the Heart and Crown in Boston., [1734]
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https://omeka.cloud.unimelb.edu.au/execution-ballads/items/show/853 <![CDATA[A new Ballad intituled, the stout Cripple of Cornwall]]> 2021-02-15T13:13:00+11:00

Title

A new Ballad intituled, the stout Cripple of Cornwall

Subtitle

wherein is shewed his dissolute life and deserved death. To the tune of, the blind Begger .

Synopsis

An amputee ('he had never a legge to the knee')begs on the highway in daylight hours, but at night, disguises himself with stilts to rob travellers. Although his attempt to rob the Lord Courtney is botched, eventually he is caught and all are amazed.

Digital Object

Image / Audio Credit

Magdalene College - Pepys Library, Pepys Ballads 1.136; EBBA 20003; (see also Roxburghe 1.389 EBBA ID: 30262; Roxburghe 1.446, EBBA 30300; Roxburghe 3.616-617, EBBA 31316; Euing 1.241, EBBA 31790 ; Euing 1.242, EBBA 31791).

Set to tune of...

The blind beggar

Transcription

O F a stout Cripple that kept the high way,
and beg'd for his living all time of the day,
A story Ile tell you that pleasant shall be,
the Cripple of Cornwall sir-named was he.
He crept on his hands and his knees up and down,
in a torne Jacket and ragged patcht Gowne:
For he had never a legge to the knee,
the Cripple of Cornwall sir [-] named was hee.
He was of stomacke couragious and stout,
for he had no cause to complaine of the Gout:
To goe upon stilts most cunning was hee,
with a staffe on his necke gallant and free.
Yea, no good fellowship would he forsake,
were it in secret a purse for to take:
His helpe was as good as any might be,
the Cripple of Cornwall sir-named was he.
When he upon any such service did goe,
the craftie young Cripple provided it so:
His tooles he kept close in an old hollow Tree,
that stood from the Citie a mile two or three.
Thus all the day long he begd for reliefe,
and late in the night he plaid the false Theefe:
And seven yeares together this custome kept he,
and no man knew him such a person to be.
There were few Grasiers went on the way,
but unto the Cripple for passage did pay,
And every brave Merchant that he did descry,
he emptied their purses ere they passed by.
The gallant Lord Courtney both valiant and bold,
rode forth with great plentie of silver and Gold:
At Exeter there a purchase to pay.
but that the false Cripple his journey did stay.
For why the false Cripple heard tydings of late,
as he lay for almes at this Noblemans gate:
What day and what houre his journey should be,
this is (quoth the Cripple) a bootie for me.
Then to his Companions the matter he moned,
which their like actions beforetime had proned:
They make themselves ready & deeply they sweare
this mony's their owne before they come there.
Upon his two stilts the Cripple doth mount,
to have his best share he makes his account:
All clothed in Canvas downe to the ground,
he takes up his standing his mates with him round
Then comes the L.Courtney with halfe a scoremen
that little suspecting these theeves in their den:
And they perceiving them come to their hand,
in a darke evening they bid him to stand.
Deliver thy purse quoth the Cripple with speed,
for we be good fellowes and thereof have need:
Not so, quoth Lord Courtney , but this I tell thee,
win it, and weare it, else get none of me.
With that the Lord Courtney stood in his defence,
and so did his servants, but ere they went [hence]
Two of the true men were slaine in the fight,
and foure of the theeves were put to their flight
And while for their safegard they ran thus away,
the jolly bold Cripple did hold the rest play:
And with his pike-staffe he wounded them so,
as they were unable to runne or to goe.
With fight the L. Courtney was driven out of breath
and most of his servants wounded to death:
Then came other horsemen riding so fast,
the Cripple was forced to flie at the last,
And over a River that ran there beside,
which was very deepe and eighteene foot wide:
With his long staffe and his stilts leaped hee,
and shifted himselfe in an old hollow Tree.
Then thorow the Country was hue and cry made,
to have these theeves apprehended and stayde:
The Cripple he creeps on his hands and his knees,
and on the high way great posting he sees.
And as they came riding he begging doth say,
O give me one penny, good Master, I pray:
And thus unto Exeter creepes he along,
no man suspecting that he had done wrong.
Anon the Lord Courtney he spyde in the street
he comes unto him and kisses his feet:
Saying, God save your honor & keepe you from il,
and from the hands of your enemies still.
Amen qouth L. Courtney , and therewith flung downe
unto the poore Cripple an English Crowne:
Away went the Cripple and thus he did thinke,
500 . pounds more would make me to drinke.
In vaine that hue and cry it was made,
they found none of them though the Countrey was layd:
But this grieved the Cripple both night and day,
that he so unluckily mist of his pray.
Nine hundred pounds this Cripple had got,
by begging and robbing so good was his lot,
A thousand pound he would make it he said,
and then hee would quite give over his trade.
But as he strived his minde to fulfill,
in following his actions so lewd and so ill,
At last he was taken the law to suffice,
condemned and hanged at Exeter [sise].
Which made all men amazed to see,
that such an impotent person as hee,
Should venture himselfe to such actions as they,
to rob in such sort upon the high way.


F I N I S.

Method of Punishment

hanging

Crime(s)

robbery; theft

Gender

Date

Execution Location

Exeter

Printing Location

London, Printed for J .W.

URL

EEBO link to later (1750) version. Words are mostly unchanged (institutional login required). 
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