Twenty-first edition of the N&O column / Spooks newsletter

(Date: Mon, 20 Dec 1999 22:41:18 +0100)

Spy carols

The Lincolnshire Poacher
printed at York about 1776

When I was bound apprentice, in famous Lincolnsheer,
Full well I served my master, for more than seven year,
Till I took up with poaching, as you shall quickly hear,
Oh! 'tis my delight of a shiny night, in the season of the year.

As me and my companions were setting of a snare,
'Twas then we seed the gamekeeper, for him we did not care,
For we can wrestle and fight, my boys, and jump o'er everywhere,
Oh! 'tis my delight of a shiny night, in the season of the year.

As me and my comrades were setting four or five,
And taking on him up again, we caught the hare alive;
We caught the hare alive, my boys, and through the woods did steer:
Oh! 'tis my delight of a shiny night, in the season of the year.

I threw him on my shoulder and then we trudged home
We took him to a neighbor's house, and sold him for a crown;
We sold him for a crown, my boys, but I did not tell you where
Oh, 'tis my delight on a shiny night in the season of the year.

Bad luck to every magistrate that lives in Lincolnsheer;
Success to every poacher that wants to sell a hare;
Bad luck to every gamekeeper that will not sell his deer,
Oh! 'tis my delight of a shiny night, in the season of the year.

Cherry Ripe
Robert Herrick. 1591-1674.

Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry,
Full and fair ones; come and buy,
If so be you ask me where
They do grow, I answer: There,
Where my Julia's lips do smile;
There's the land, or cherry-isle,
Whose plantations fully show
All the year where cherries grow.