The Gypsy's Selling Song.

My good man - he's an old, old man -
    And my good man got a fall,
To buy me a bargain so fast he ran
    When he heard the gypsies call:
    "Buy, buy brushes,
    Baskets wrought o' rushes.
    Buy them, buy them, take them, try them,
    Buy, dames all."

My old man, he has money and land,
    And a young, young wife am I.
Let him put the penny in my white hand
    When he hears the gypsies cry:
    "Buy, buy laces,
    Veils to screen your faces.
    Buy them, buy them, take and try them.
    Buy, maids, buy."

Jean Ingelow

Jean Ingelow was an English poet and novelist known for her popular stories and poems in the 19th century. Her work, including 'Mopsa the Fairy', earned her recognition during her lifetime. She was also involved in the Pre-Raphaelite movement. Ingelow published several poetry collections, with her first in 1863, which was well-received and cemented her reputation as a poet.

Jean Ingelow

Seven Times One. Exultation.

Jean Ingelow, Simple Poetry

Loss And Waste.

Jean Ingelow, Simple Poetry

Lovers At The Lake Side.

Jean Ingelow, Simple Poetry

An Arrow-Slit.

Jean Ingelow, Simple Poetry

English

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The Gipsy Girl

'Come, try your skill, kind gentlemen,
A penny for three tries!'
Some threw and lost, some threw and won
A ten-a-penny prize.

She was a tawny gipsy girl,
A girl of twenty years,
I liked her for the lumps of gold
That jingled from her ears;

I liked the flaring yellow scarf
Bound loose about her throat,
I liked her showy purple gown
And flashy velvet coat.

A man came up, too loose of tongue,
And said no good to her;
She did not blush as Saxons do,
Or turn upon the cur;

She fawned and whined 'Sweet gentleman,
A penny for three tries!'
- But oh, the den of wild things in
The darkness of her eyes!

Ralph Hodgson

The Gipsy Laddie

The Text is from Motherwell's MS., a copy from tradition in Renfrewshire in 1825. The ballad exists both in English and Scottish, and though the English ballad is probably derived from the Scottish, it was the first in print. It is also called Johnnie Faa. Motherwell, in printing an elaborated version of the following text (Minstrelsy, 1827, p. 360), called it Gypsie Davy.


The Story.--Singers--presumably gipsies--entice Lady Cassillis down to hear them, and cast glamour on her. She follows their chief, Gipsy Davy, but finds (stt. 5 and 6) that the conditions are changed. Her lord misses her, seeks her 'thro' nations many,' and finds her drinking with the gipsy chief. He asks her to return home with him. At this point the present version becomes difficult, and the bearing of st. 12 is not apparent. We ...

Frank Sidgwick

At The Hop

'Tis time to dress.    Dost hear the music surging
    Like sobbing waves that roll up from the sea?
Yes, yes, I hear -I yield -no need of urging;
    I know your wishes, -send Lisette to me.

I hate the ballroom; hate its gilded pleasure;
    I hate the crowd within it, well you know;
But what of that?    I am your lawful treasure -
    And when you would display me I must go.

You bought me with a mother's pain and trouble.
    I've been a great expense to you alway.
And now, if you can sell me, and get double
    The sum I cost -why, what have I to say?

You've done your duty: kept me in the fashion,
    And shown me off at every stylish place.
'Twas not your fault I had a heart of passion;
    'Twas not your fault I ever saw his face.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

An Old Wife's Song.

And what will ye hear, my daughters dear? -
    Oh, what will ye hear this night?
Shall I sing you a song of the yuletide cheer,
    Or of lovers and ladies bright?

"Thou shalt sing," they say (for we dwell far away
    From the land where fain would we be),
"Thou shalt sing us again some old-world strain
    That is sung in our own countrie.

"Thou shalt mind us so of the times long ago,
    When we walked on the upland lea,
While the old harbor light waxed faint in the white,
    Long rays shooting out from the sea;

"While lambs were yet asleep, and the dew lay deep
    On the grass, and their fleeces clean and fair.
Never grass was seen so thick nor so green
    As the grass that grew up there!

"In the town was no smoke, for none ther...

Jean Ingelow

Seven Times Two. Romance.

You bells in the steeple, ring, ring out your changes,
How many soever they be,
And let the brown meadow-lark's note as he ranges
Come over, come over to me.

Yet bird's clearest carol by fall or by swelling
No magical sense conveys,
And bells have forgotten their old art of telling
The fortune of future days.

"Turn again, turn again," once they rang cheerily,
While a boy listened alone;
Made his heart yearn again, musing so wearily
All by himself on a stone.

Poor bells! I forgive you; your good days are over,
And mine, they are yet to be;
No listening, no longing shall aught, aught discover:
You leave the story to me.

The foxglove shoots out of the green matted heather,
And hangeth her hoods of snow;
She was idle, and slept ti...

Jean Ingelow

The Heron Ballads. (Ballad Third.)

An Excellent New Song.


Tune. "Buy broom besoms."

    Wha will buy my troggin,
        Fine election ware;
    Broken trade o' Broughton,
        A' in high repair.
        Buy braw troggin,
            Frae the banks o' Dee;
        Wha wants troggin
            Let him come to me.

    There's a noble Earl's^[1]
        Fame and high renown
    For an auld sang,
        It's thought the gudes were stown.
        Buy braw troggin, &c.

    Here's the worth o' Broughton^[2]
        In a needle's ee;
    Here's a reputation
        Tint by Balmaghie.
        Buy braw troggin, &c.

    Here's an honest conscience
        Might a prince adorn;
    Frae the downs o' Ti...

Robert Burns