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The Tollerton Plough Play |
Foresters Morris as part of the Chatsworth House Spectacular. |
Tom Fool
Good evening ladies, gentlemen all We have just come to taste your wine and beer We have come to make you merry Stoke up your fires, turn on your lights And see our gallant play tonight Some can dance and some can sing At your consent they shall come in Okum, Pokum, France and Spain In comes the Recruiting Sergeant on his name
I have arrived here just now I have orders from the king Enlist all young men that follow horses, cart, waggon or plough Tinkers, tailors, peddlers, nailers All the more to my advance The more I hear the fiddle play the better I can dance
I will quickly walk away. [Short burst of music and dance.] Farmer's man
Don't you see my whip in hand As I go forth to plough the land and turn it upside down How straight I go from end to end And never make a baulk or bend And all my horses I attend As they go marching round the end Whoa, back Bob.
Good fortune and sweet charms How scornfully I have been thrown away Out of my true love's arms He says as I won't to him wed He'll let me understand He will list all for a soldier And go into some foreign land.
List and do not be afraid You shall have all kinds of liquors Likewise kiss this fair pretty maid. [To Farmer's Man] Are you willing to serve the King young man?
Time away does quickly pass The health and wealth does very well suit me But I'm in love with this buxom lass
Her beauty it will fade away Like the first rose of summer the winter doth become Ten bright guineas shall be your bounty If along with me you'll go Your hat shall be neatly trimmed with ribbon You shall cut a gallant show. Are you free willing and able to serve your King?
On your hat I place this ribbon You are a King's man.
I neither mean to sigh for him or yet to shed one tear I neither mean to sigh for him but just to let you know I will get another sweetheart and along with him I'll go.
And we'll get wed tomorrow.
With a neck as long as any crane Bibble, babble, over the meadows A long time I have sought thee and now I have got thee Pray, Tommy, take thy child
Look at it, it's not a bit like me
It is as much like you as ever it can grin.
To the biggest fool in the house and I think you are he.
As all you people know My old dad learnt me this trade Just sixty years ago I thrashed old Bony-part and all his crew And I will thrash you before I go
[Recruiting Sergeant knocks Threshing Blade down.] Tom Fool
Thou hast killed and slain thy'n only son Thy'n only son, thy'n only heir Can'st thou not see him bleeding there? Five pounds for a doctor.
If there is one to be found anywhere.
Mind it does not swallow you In comes I the doctor.
Thirteen times round the world and back again.
Also two-two miles yon side of York Where I cured an old woman called Mrs Cork She tumbled upstairs with a teapot Half full of cold boiling water. And grazed her shin just below the elbow And made her stocking top bleed Also to my old grandmother's cupboard Where I always used to get a piece of cake and pork pie, That's what makes me such a fine big man.
My own size particularly when I get my hat off.
Pains within and pains without Draw a leg, set a tooth Physic cats, poison rats Almost bring a dead man to life again But I haven't done that yet.
I wish you would try your skill on this young man.
Here pretty lady, take hold of this hat, stick and walking gloves While I feel this man's pulse.
That's the hardest and softest part about him.
He has been trying a new experiment.
Nine days all but a fortnight Also swallowed his old Grandmother's donkey and cart And couldn't digest the wheels. Oh, I have a box of pills here.
Take one at night and one in the morning And swallow the box at dinner time If the pills do not digest, the box will Oh, I have another box here
Spectacles for blind bumble-bees And many other things I cannot mention just now. Inside my inside trousers waistcoat pocket that I have left at home I have a bottle of whiff-whaff To teem down his old tiff-taff. If you can dance and I can sing Arise old chap and let's begin.
As you sit around your fire Remember us poor ploughboys Who plough through mud and mire The mire it is so very deep The water runs so clear Put your hands into your pockets that is all that we desire Put bread into our hoppers and beer into our cans Let's hope you will never forget The jolly old Farmer's Man. [Collection, fool leaves.]
You see our fool has gone We make it our business to follow him along. We thank you for civility and what you gave us here We wish you all goodnight and another happy year
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Print this page E-mail to: Bagman@foresters-morris.org.uk or to Webmaster@foresters-morris.org.uk Updated Thursday 18-May-2023 17:13 , visits Website content copyright © Eric Foxley who also runs the Dunkirk Arts Centre. Eric manages web
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