English & Other 278. The Farmer's Curst Wife
[The broadside (dated June, 1630), "The Devill and the Scold," also titled, "How the Devil (Divell) was gull'd by a Scold," is the first extant printing of the ballad. It tells the same basic story as the re-write, The Carle of Kellyburn Braes by Burns in 1792. A subsequent re-write by Alan Cunningham in 1810 which claims to be the "original" of The Carle of Kellyburn Braes is, according to Paterson who lists verses 6, 7, 12, 14 and 15 entirely by Cunningham, not the original. See also Child's notes.
The Sussex Farmer is basically Child A without the whistles. The stanzas are exactly the same and except for one line and "devil" being substituted for "imps" and "Satan", they are the same. Perhaps Dixon's version was adapted from this broadside.
THE SUSSEX FARMER- Printed between 1819 and 1844 by J. Pitts, Toy and Marble Warehouse, 6 Great St. Andrew Street, Seven Dials, London.
There was an old farmer in Sussex did dwell,
And he had a bad wife, as many knew well.
The devil came to the old man at the plough,—
One of your family I must have now.
It is not your eldest son that I crave,
But it is your old wife, and she I will have.
O, welcome good devil, with all my heart,
I hope you and her will never more part.
Now the devil has got the wife on his back,
And he lugged her along, like a pedlar's pack.
He trudged away till they came to hell door,
And then he kick'd her in for a stinking old fro,
O then she did kick the young devils about,—
Says one to the other- Let's try turn her out.
She spied thirteen devils all dancing in chains,
She up with a broom stick and beat out their brains.
She knocked the devil against the wall,—
Let's try turn her out, or she'll murder us all.
Now he's bundled her up on his back amain,
And to her old husband he took her again.
I have been a devil the whole of my life,
But I ne'er was tormented so as with your wife.
CONTENTS:
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The Devill and the Scold
[Roxb. Coll. I. 340, 341.]
Of this ballad there are two extant editions, the earlier being in the Roxburghe Collection. The second is in the Rawlinson Collection, No. 169, published by Coles, Vere, and other stationers-- a trade edition, of the reign of Charles II.
Mr. Payne Collier includes "The Devil and the Scold" in his volume of Roxburghe Ballads, and says: "This is certainly an early ballad: the allusion, in the second stanza, to Tom Thumb and Robin Goodfellow (whose 'Mad Pranks' had been published before 1588) is highly curious, and one proof of its antiquity, although it has reached us only in an impression, 'Printed at London for Henry Gosson, dwelling upon London-Bridge, neare to the Gate.'"
At the end of Mr. Payne Collier's edition of the ballad, he gives a copy of the woodcut which appeared on the title-page of that early edition of Robin Goodfellow.
A peasant new Ballad You Here may behold,
How the Devil, though subtle, was gul'd by a scold
To the tune or The Seminary Priest.
Give care, my loving countrey-men,
that still desire newes,
Nor passe not while you heare it sung,
or else the song peruse ;
For, ere you heare it, I must tell,
my newes it is not common ;
But He unfold a trueth betwixt
a Devill and a woman. 8
Tom Thumb is not my subject,
whom fairies oft did aide ;
Nor that mad spirit Robin,
that plagues both wife and maid ;
Nor is my song satyricke like,
invented against no man ;
But onely of a pranke betwixt
a Devill and a woman. 16
Then widdowes, wives and maides,
give eare, as well as men,
And by this woman learne
to gull the world agen:
You may by this turne artists,
or masters of your art;
And when the Devill comes for you,
you need not care a fart. 24
A woman well in yeares
liv'd with a husband kinde,
Who had a great desire
to live content in minde:
But 'twas a thing unpossible
to compasse his desire;
For night and day with scolding
she did her husband tire. 32
With "Roughish lowtish clowne!
despight thee He be wilde;
Doest thou think I marryed thee
to use thee like a childe,
And set thee on my lap,
or humour what you speake?
Before He be so fond
thy very heart He breake!" 40
"Why, loving wife," quoth he,
"He never doe thee wrong,
So thoul't be rul'd by me,
and onely hold thy tongue:
And when I come from worke,
wilt please at boord and bed?
Doe this, my loving wife,
and take all, being dead." 48
"Marke well," quoth she, "my words!
what ere you speak me to,
By faire meanes or by foule,
the contrary He doe!"
According to her speech,
this man led such a life,
That oft he wish't the Devill
to come and fetch his wife. 56
Had he bid her goe homely,
why then she would goe brave ;
Had he cal'd her "Good wife!"
she cal'd him "Rogue and slave!"
Bade he, "Wife, goe to church,
and take the fairest pew,"
Shee'd goe unto an alehouse,
and drinke, lye downe, and spew.
The Devill, being merry
with laughing at this mirth,
Would needs from hell come trotting
to fetch her from the earth;
And coming like a horse,
did tell this man his minde,
Saying, " Set her bvut astride my backe,
He hurry her through the winde."
---The second part--
To THE SAME TUNE.
"Kinde Devill!" quoth the man,
"if thou a while wilt wait,
He bid her doe that thing
shall make her backe thee straight:
And here He make a vow--
for all she is my wife--
He never send for her againe
whilest I have breath or life." 80
"Content," the Devill cry'd;
then to his wife goes he :
"Good wife, goe leade that horse
so black and fair you see."
"Goe leade, Sir Knave!" quoth she,
" and wherefore not goe ride?"
She took the Devill by the reines,
and up she goes astride. 88
The Devill neighed lowd,
and threw his heeles i' th' ayre:
"Kick, in the Devill's name!" quoth she;
"a shrew doth never fear."
Away to hell he went
with this most wicked scold ;
But she did curbe him with the bit,
and would not loose her hold. 96
The more he cry'd, " Give way!"
the more she kept him in,
And kickt him so with both her heeles,
that both his sides were thin.
"Alight!" the Devill cry'd,
"and quicke the bridle loose!"
"No! I will ride," quoth she,
"whiles thou hast breath or shooes." 104
Againe she kickt and prickt,
and sate so stiffe and well,
The Devill was not [half] so plagu'd
a hundred yeares in hell.
"For pitty, light!" quoth he,
"thou put'st me to much paine!"
"I will not light," quoth she,
"till I come home againe." 112
The Devill shew'd her all
the paines within that place,
And told her that they were
ordain'd for Scolds so base.
"Being bereft of breath,
for scolding 'tis my due;
But whilest I live on earth
Ile be reveng'd on you!" 120
Then did she draw her knife,
and gave his eare a slit:
The Devill never felt
the like from mortall yet.
So, fearing further danger,
he to his heeles did take,
And faster than he came,
he poast-haste home did make. 128
"Here, take her!" quoth the Devill,
"to keep her here be bold ;
For hell will not be troubled
with such an earthly scold.
When I come home, I may
to all my fellowes tell,
I lost my labour, and my bloud,
to bring a scold to hell." 136
The man halfe dead did stand;
away the Devill hyde.
Then, since the world, nor hell,
can well a scold abide,
To make a saile of ships
let husbands fall to worke,
And give their free consents
to send them to the Turke. 144
Then, honest wives and maides,
and widdowes of each sort
Might live in peace and rest,
and Silence keep her court:
Nor would I have a scold
one penny here bestow ;
But, honest men and wives,
buy these before you goe. Finis. 152
Printed at London for Henry Gosson, dwelling upon London-Bridge neare to the Gate.
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The Carle of Kellyburn Braes- Robert Burns 1792
Of this song Mrs. Burns said to Cromek, when running her finger over the long list of lyrics which her husband had written or amended for the Museum, "Robert gae this one a terrible brushing."
There lived a carl in Kellyburn Braes,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme;
And he had a wife was the plague of his days,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
Ae day as the carl gaed up the lang glen,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme;
He met with the Devil, says, "How do you fen?"
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
I've got a bad wife, sir, that's a' my complaint,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme;
"For, savin your presence, to her ye're a saint,"
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
It's neither your stot nor your staig I shall crave,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme;
"But gie me your wife, man, for her I must have,"
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
"O welcome most kindly!" the blythe carl said,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme;
"But if ye can match her ye're waur than ye're ca'd,"
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
The Devil has got the auld wife on his back,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme;
And, like a poor pedlar, he's carried his pack,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
He's carried her hame to his ain hallan door,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme;
Syne bade her gae in, for a bitch, and a whore,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
Then straight he makes fifty, the pick o' his band,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme:
Turn out on her guard in the clap o' a hand,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
The carlin gaed thro' them like ony wud bear,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme;
Whae'er she gat hands on cam near her nae mair,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
A reekit wee deevil looks over the wa',
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme;
"O help, maister, help, or she'll ruin us a'!"
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
The Devil he swore by the edge o' his knife,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme;
He pitied the man that was tied to a wife,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
The Devil he swore by the kirk and the bell,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme;
He was not in wedlock, thank Heav'n, but in hell,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
Then Satan has travell'd again wi' his pack,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme;
And to her auld husband he's carried her back,
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
I hae been a Devil the feck o' my life,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme;
"But ne'er was in hell till I met wi' a wife,"
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime.
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Below is the "original" found in Cromek, Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 83, 1810. Apparently it is a rewrite by Alan Cunningham of Burns with verses 6, 7, 12, 14 and 15 entirely by Cunningham (according to James Paterson).
ORIGINAL OF BURNS'S CARLE OF KELLY-BURN BRAES- Alan Cunningham
1. There was an auld man was hauding his plow,
Hey! an' the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme!
By came the Devil, says, 'How do ye do?'
An' the thyme it is withered, an' the rue is in prime.
2. It's neither your ox, nor your ass that I crave,
Hey! an' the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme!
But your auld scaulding wife, man, and her I maun have,
An' the thyme it is withered, an' the rue is in prime.
3. 'Go take her, go take her,' the auld carle said,
Hey! an' the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme!
Ye'll no keep her lang, an' that I'm afraid,
An' the thyme it is withered, an' the rue is in prime.
4. The Devil he mounted her on his back,
Hey! an' the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme!
An' awa like a pedlar he trudged wi' his pack,
An' the thyme it is withered, an' the rue is in prime.
5. He carried her on till he came to hell's door,
Hey! an' the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme!
An' bade her gae in, for a bitch an' a whore,
An' the thyme it is withered, an' the rue is in prime.
6. He placed her on his big arm chair,
Hey! an' the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme!
An' thousands o' Devils came roun' her to stare,
An' the thyme it is withered, an' the rue is in prime.
7. But ay as they at the auld carlin played pouk,
Hey! an' the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme!
She gied them a bann, an' she lent them a clout,
An' the thyme it is withered, an' the rue is in prime.
8. A reekit wee devil gloured owre the wa',
Hey! an' the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme!
Says, help! master, help! or she'll ruin us a',
An' the thyme it is withered, an' the rue is in prime.
9. The deil he came up wi' a good brunstane rung,
Hey! an' the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme!
An' out at the door the auld carlin he swung,
An' the thyme it is withered, an' the rue is in prime.
10. He hynt up the carlin again on his back,
Hey! an' the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme!
An' awa fu' blythely he trudged wi' his pack,
An' the thyme it is withered, an' the rue is in prime.
11. He carried her owre an acre or two,
Hey! an' the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme!
Till he came to the auld man hauding his plow,
An' the thyme it is withered, an' the rue is in prime.
12. An' ay as the auld carle ranted and sang,
Hey! an' the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme!
'In troth my auld spunkieye'll no keep her lang;'—
An' the thyme it is withered, an' the rue is in prime.
13. 'Gude morrow,' most sadly, the auld carle said,
Hey! an' the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme!
'Yere bringing me back my auld wife I'm afraid;
An' the thyme it is withered, an' the rue is in prime.
14. 'I tryed her in spunks, and incau'drons, tryed her,
Hey! an' the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme!
'An' the wale o' my brunstane wadna hae fry'd her,
An' the thyme it is withered, an' the rue is in prime.
15. 'I stapped her in the neuk o' my den,
Hey! an' the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme.'
'But the vera damn'd ran, when the carlin gaed ben,
An' the thyme it is withered, an' the rue is in prime.
16. "Sae here's a gude pose for to keep her yoursel',
Hey I an' the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme!
"She's nae fit for heaven, an' she'll ruin a' hell,"
An' the thyme it is withered, an' the rue is in prime.
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Kellyburn Braes
Lyric as sung by Dick Gaughan
Thair wis an auld carle on Kellyburn Braes
(ritefal, ritefal, tittie fal day)
Thair wis an auld carle on Kellyburn Braes
He mairriet a wife an he rued the day
(wi ma rite falal, tittie falal, ritefal, ritefal, tittie falay)
Ae day the auld fairmer wis haudin the plou
Whan up jumps Auld Nick an says "Hou dae ye do?"
Says the Deil tae the fairmer, "A've come for yer wife"
"For A hear she's the bane an the curse o yer life"
At this the auld fairmer he dances a reel
Cryin, "Tak her, O, tak her, O, tak her tae Hell"
The Deil he humphit her up oan his back
Whan thae landit in Hell, lat her doun wi a crack
Thair wis seiven wee deivils wis hingin in chains
She picked up a stick an she scattert thair brains
The ither wee deivils aa stertit tae bawl
"O, tak her back, daddie, she'll murder us aa"
Sae the Deil he humphs her again oan his back
Whan he got tae the tap, flung her doun wi a crack
He says, "A've been the Deivil for maist o ma life
But a ne'er wis in Hell til A met wi yer wife"
Nou, it's true at the weemin is worse than the men
For thae gang doun tae Hell an get flung out again!
Song Notes
Perhaps the first 'traditional' song I ever consciously learned. At family gatherings there were always songs and you could calculate the speed my Uncle Willie was drinking by how long it took him to get round to this one.
It was an unspoken but strictly observed taboo that nobody would ever sing a song that was part of another's repertoire, but this did not apply to the children so I was singing this from about age 6 or 7.
It is a variant of the classic "Devil and the Farmer's Wife" theme. Robert Burns collected a version by the same name but it is very different from this.
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Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, Issues 62-67 edited by James Henry Dixon 1847;
A SUSSEX WHISTLING SONG.
This is a countryman’s whistling-song, and the only one of the kind which the editor remembers to have heard. It is very ancient, and a great favourite. The farmer’s wife has an adventure somewhat resembling the hero’s in the burlesque version of Don Giovanni. The tune is Lilli burlero, and the song is sung as follows :—the first line of each verse is given as a. solo; then the tune is continued by a chorus of whistlers, who whistle that portion of the air which in Lilli burlero would be sung to the words, Lilli burlero bullen a la. The s