An Excellent BALLAD,
Of a most Dreadful COMBATE Fought between
Moore of Moore-hall, and the Dragon of Wantley.
|
OLD Stories tell, how Hercules
|
a Dragon slew at Lurna;
|
With Seven Heads, and Fourteen Eyes,
|
to see and well discern a:
|
But he had a Club this Dragon to drub,
|
or hed neer have dont, Ill warrant ye;
|
But Moore of Moore-hall, with nothing at all,
|
he slew the Dragon of Wantley.
|
This Dragon had two furious Wings,
|
each one upon each Shoulder:
|
With a Sting in his Tail, as long as a Flail,
|
which made him bolder and bolder:
|
He had long Claws, and in his Jaws
|
four and forty Teeth of Iron:
|
With a Hide as tough as any Buff,
|
which did him round environ.
|
Have you not heard of the Trojan Horse,
|
with Seventy Men in his Belly?
|
This Dragon was not quite so big,
|
but very near, Ill tell ye:
|
Devoured he poor Children three,
|
that could not with him grapple;
|
And at one Sup he eat them up,
|
as a Man would eat an Apple.
|
All Sorts of Cattle this Dragon did eat:
|
some say he eat up Trees;
|
And that the Forest sure he would
|
devour by Degrees:
|
For Houses & Churches were to him Geese & Turkies,
|
he eat all and left none behind:
|
But some Nuts dear Jack which he could not crack,
|
which on the Hills you will find.
|
In Yorkshire, near fair Rotherham,
|
the Place I know [it] well:
|
Some two or three Miles, or thereabouts,
|
I vow, I cannot tell;
|
But there is a Hedge, just on the Hill Edge,
|
and Matthews House hard by it:
|
Oh! there and then was this Dragons Den,
|
you could not chuse but spy it.
|
Some say this Dragon was a Witch;
|
some say he was a Devil:
|
For from his Nose a Smoke arose,
|
and with it burning Snivel;
|
Which he cast off, when he did cough,
|
into a Well that stands by;
|
Which made it look just like a Brook
|
running with burning Brandy.
|
Hard by a furious Knight there dwelt,
|
of whom all Towns did ring:
|
For he could wrestle, play at Quarter-staff, kick, cuff, and huff,
|
call Son of a Whore, do any Kind of Thing:
|
By the Tail and the Mane, with his Hands twain,
|
he swung a Horse till he was dead:
|
And what is stranger, he for very Anger,
|
eat him all up but his Head.
|
These Children, as I told, being eat:
|
Men, Women, Girls, and Boys,
|
Sighing and Sobbing, came to his Lodging,
|
and made a hideous Noise:
|
Oh! save us all Moore of Moore-hall,
|
thou peerless Knight of these Woods;
|
Do but slay this Dragon, who wont leave us a Rag on,
|
well give thee all our Goods.
|
Tut, tut, quoth he, no Goods I want:
|
but I want, I want, in sooth,
|
A fair Maid of Sixteen, thats brisk,
|
and smiles about the Mouth:
|
Hair black as a Sloe, both above and below,
|
with Blushes her Cheeks adorning:
|
To noint me oer Night, eer I go to Fight,
|
and to dress me in the Morning.
|
This being done, he did engage
|
to hew this Dragon down:
|
But first he went strong Armour to
|
bespeak at Sheffield Town:
|
With Spikes all about, not within but without,
|
of Steel so sharp and strong:
|
Both behind and before, Arms, Legs, and all oer,
|
some five or six Inches long.
|
Had you but seen him in this Dress,
|
how fierce he lookd, and how big;
|
You would have thought him to have been,
|
some Egyptian Porcupig:
|
He frightend all, Cats, Dogs, and all,
|
each Cow, each Horse, and each Hog;
|
For fear they did flee, for they took him to be,
|
some strange Out-landish Hedge-hog.
|
To see this Fight all People then,
|
got upon Trees and Houses:
|
On Churches some, and Chimnies too,
|
but they put on their Trowses,
|
Not to spoil their Hose: As soon as he arose,
|
to make him strong and mighty:
|
He drank by the Tale six Pots of Ale,
|
and a Quart of Aqua Vitae.
|
It is not Strength that always wins,
|
for Wit does Strength excel:
|
Which made our cunning Champion
|
creep down into a Well:
|
Where he did think this Dragon would drink,
|
and so he did in Truth:
|
And as he stoopd low, he rose up and cryd Boh!
|
and he hit him on the Mouth.
|
Oh! quoth the Dragon, pox take you, come out,
|
thou that disturbst me in my Drink:
|
With that he turnd, and sh--t at him,
|
good lack, how he did stink!
|
Beshrew thy Soul, thy Body is foul:
|
thy Dung smells not like Balsam:
|
Thou Son of a Whore, thou stinkst so sore,
|
sure thy Diet is unwholsome.
|
Our Politick Knight, on the other Side,
|
crept out upon the Brink:
|
And gave the Dragon such a Dowse,
|
he knew not what to think,
|
By Cock, quoth he, say you so; do you see?
|
and then at him he let fly:
|
With Hand and Foot, and so they went tot:
|
and the Word it was, Hey, Boys, hey;
|
Your Words, quoth the Dragon, I dont understand,
|
then to it they fell all at all:
|
Like two wild Boars, so fierce: I may
|
compare great Things with small:
|
Two Days and a Night with this Dragon did fight
|
our Champion on the Ground:
|
Tho their Strength it was great, their Skill it was neat,
|
they never had one Wound.
|
At length the hard Earth began for to quake,
|
the Dragon gave him such a Knock:
|
Which made him to reel, and straight he thought
|
to lift him as high as a Rock,
|
And then let him fall: But Moore of Moore-hall,
|
like a valiant Son of Mars:
|
As he came like a Lout, so he turnd him about,
|
and hit him a Kick on the A--se.
|
Oh, quoth the Dragon, with a deep Sigh,
|
and turnd six Times together;
|
Sobbing and tearing, cursing and swearing,
|
out of his Throat of Leather;
|
Moore of Moore-hall, O thou Rascal,
|
would I had seen thee never:
|
With the Thing at thy Foot thou hast prickd my Arse-gut,
|
and I am undone for ever.
|
Murder, Murder, the Dragon cryd,
|
alack! alack! for Grief;
|
Had you but missd that Place, you could
|
have done me no Mischief:
|
Then his Head he shakd, trembled and quakd,
|
and down he [l]ayd and cryd:
|
First on one Knee, then on Back tumbled he,
|
so groand, kickd, sh--t, and dyd.
|
|
|
|
|
|