Ye Butcher, Ye Baker,
Ye Candlestick-Maker
Being Sundry Amusing and Instructive
VERSES for both Old and Young.
Adorned with Numerous Woodcuts
By ROBERT SEAVER
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
The Riverside Press Cambridge
1908
Ye Housewife in her kitchen white,
She scours ye pots and pans;
She kneads ye bread, and bakes it too,
With ever busy hands.
Ye children she sends off to school,[13]
And then doth sew and darn,
And knits ye goodman mitts and hose
Of honest homespun yarn.
Yet though she toileth all ye day,
She hath no cause to fret:
Ye Adversary hath not made
Ye Modern Servant yet.
Ye school-boy on his way to school
Ye bake-shop doth espy,
Where men of gingerbread in state
With eyes of currants lie.
Ye good-wife takes her Sunday roast[15]
Where his great ovens yawn,
And fragrant odors fill ye air
At noon, and night, and morn.
All this was many years ago,
Before Ye Canner came,
With Fifty-nine Varieties
To advertise his name.
Ye Doctor, on his faithful nag,
Rides all ye country round,
And in his saddlebags great store
Of physic may be found.
He cups and bleeds with right good will,[17]
With pill and drench doth ply,
Until his patient must get well,
Unless he first doth die.
Ye ancient steed is seen no more,
Ye doctor telephones
An absent treatment, or, perchance,
Manipulates ye bones.
Ye Crier walks all over town
And loudly rings his bell,
And to ye gaping villagers
His messages doth tell.
Ye child that’s strayed, ye auction sale,[19]
Ye good news and ye ill,
He cries it forth upon ye street,
And all may hear who will.
Ye Crier he hath gone his way,
And for him oft we grieve
When papers print so many things
Nobody can believe.
Ye Tythingman, that watchful one,
He doth ye order keep,
In church he walketh up ye aisle
To see who goes to sleep.
And when he spyeth one who nods,[21]
He riseth in his might,
And with his rod right lustily
Doth rap ye luckless wight.
But now ye tythingman hath found
His duties few and small,
For those who go keep wide awake,
Ye rest go not at all.
Ye Pirate sails ye briny deep:
Ye Jolly Roger flies
In search of some rich galleon
To make a goodly prize.
His motley crew of murderous mien[23]
Are rovers bold and free,
And sailors tremble at his name
When they put forth to sea.
Ye pirate now stays safe ashore,
And authors rate him when
He robs ye good ship “Copyright”
Of thoughts of brighter men.
Ye Pedagogue, that learned man,
He rules ye district school,
And every day he doth instil
Ye youth with learning full.
Ye Rule of Three he doth explain[25]
Unto his listening class,
And ye three R’s he doth expound
Unto each youth and lass.
Each day he doth discharge full well
Ye duties of his station,
And never has a Theory
On Higher Education.
Ye Chemist fills his little shop
With drugs of fearsome smell,
He weigheth out ye ipecac
And eke ye calomel.
Ye herbs he gathered in ye fall[27]
Hang on his beams to dry,
And they are nauseous to ye taste
And dusty to ye eye.
Ye old-time druggist, musty soul,
Was honored in his age,
Man had not reached ye College Ice
And Picture Postal stage.
Ye Merchant in his counting-room
In broadcloth fine arrayed,
He sendeth his great ships away
All in ye China trade.
And while his warehouse fills with goods[29]
Ye merchant laughs with glee,
For in ye town who can be found
One half so rich as he?
Ye merchant of ye olden days,
No wonder that he laughed,
He nothing knew of Railway Rates,
Or High Finance, or Graft.
Ye Printer doth right merrily
His occupation ply;
Ye type he sets and proof he reads
With microscopic eye.
And when ye chap-book all is done[31]
He sallies forth with speed
To cry his wares upon ye street
For all who care to read.
Ye Printer wrought with right good will,
Nor ever was afraid
Of ye Typographic Union
Or ye Printers’ Board of Trade.
Ye Brewer is a merry man,
Beloved by all ye town,
And he’s renowned both far and wide,
All for his ale so brown.
And all ye thirsty villagers[33]
Do loudly praise his name,
An honored village father he,
Who well deserves his fame.
Ye brewer of ye modern day
Doth make great moan because
Of ye Pure Food Regulations
And ye Local Option Laws.
Ye Robber of ye olden day,
A jovial blade was he;
A short life and a merry one,
And then ye gallows-tree.
On rich and poor alike he preyed,[35]
Nor ever did endow
A Learned University
As Robber Chiefs do now.
Ye modern robber is not known
By such an ugly name:
He does it more politely.
But he does it, just ye same.
Ye Tailor on his lowly bench
He stitcheth all ye day.
From morn till night his needle plies
On clothes both grave and gay.
[37]
Ye greatcoat for ye village squire,
Ye judge’s smallclothes fine,
Ye trainband captain’s uniform
That doth with splendor shine.
Ye tailor works in great content,
He is a happy man,
No clothes are yet constructed
On ye Ready-fitted Plan.
Ye tallow chandler in his shop,
He makes ye tallow dip,
And cuts ye wicks and fills ye moulds,
Ye while he drinks his flip.
Full many a studious gentleman[39]
Doth hie him forth to buy:
Ye lamp of knowledge at his shop,
Is here for all to try.
So works ye tallow chandler,
Nor wotteth that he must,
In modern days, give up his ways
To Midnight Oil, their Trust.
Ye Student burns ye midnight oil,
And ponderous tomes doth pore,
His mind he fills at Wisdom’s fount
With classic volumes’ lore.
His thesis is a wondrous thing,[41]
Of solid breadth and weight.
Ye higher things of human life
His brow do corrugate.
Alas! for now it is not so,
For all ye Student’s dream
Is how to satisfy ye Coach,
And make ye Football Team.
Anon ye jocund Husbandman,
He tills ye fertile mead;
He plows ye land and rakes it well,
And eke he sows ye seed.
From early morn till candle light[43]
He toils with might and main,
Nor ever stops, but busy keeps
Through wind and snow and rain.
Yet though he toils full lustily,
He’s free from modern ills:
He has no Motor Car, and so
He pays no Chauffeur’s bills.
Ye Jester, dressed in cap and bells,
With jokes adorned his chat,
And every joke was all his own,
And all his jokes were pat.
No jokes were old in days of yore,[45]
No stories had been told,
And so ye wit had ample scope
His humor to unfold.
Ye modern wit’s in sorry plight,
Re-writing o’er and o’er
Ye jokes that ancient jesters told
Five hundred years before.
THE DIVERTING
HISTORY OF
John Gilpin
BY WILLIAM COWPER
Together with some thirty-two original wood-cut
engravings by Robert Seaver and a
decorative binding in half calf, with paper
sides, square 18mo, 50 cents, net.
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
4 Park Street, Boston
85 Fifth Ave., New York
