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EBBA 37059

British Library - Huth
Ballad XSLT Template
A merie newe Ballad intituled the pinnyng of the Basket:
And is to bee songe to the tune of the douneright Squire.

IT was my hap of late to heare,
a pretie jeste:
The which by me as may appeare
is here expreste.
With tantara, tantara, tantara,
for this belonges thereto:
With bitter broyles, and bickeryng blose,
and strife with muche adoe.

Marke then for now this marvell strange,
I will declare:
A Joigner sent his man to change,
money for ware.
Tantara, tara, tantara,
unto the toune he gose:
And hasted to the Chandlers shop,
his money to dispose.

But see the chaunce the Chandler drie,
was gone to drinke:
Or els poore soule to plaie thereby,
at sice and sincke:
Tantara, tara, tantara,
whereat his wife did chafe:
And out she went then in a rage,
to seeke her good man Rafe.

She ranged forthe and could not reste,
upon the molde:
When she hym founde, the bedlam beaste,
beganne to scolde:
Tantara, tara, tantara,
quoth she unthriftie knave:
If thou be at the good Ale tappe,
thou hast that thou wouldest have.

This quiet man acquainted was,
with her rough talke:
And paciently doeth with her passe,
and homeward walke.
Tantara, tara, tantara,
at home she founde hym plate:
Till he had served his customer,
and then beganne the fraie.

For havyng doen, hold here quoth he,
the Basket Dame:
Goe gossip give it hym and see,
you pinne the same.
Tantara, tara, tantara,
now doeth the sporte beginne:
Knowe thou quoth she sir knave that I,
the Basket will not pinne.

Her housebande sore insenste did sweare,
by stockes and stones:
She should or els he would prepare,
to baste her bones.
Tantara, tara, tantara,
quoth he Ile tame your tongue,
And make you pinne the Basket to,
doubt not ere it be long.

Then with a bastian that stoode by,
whiche he did smell:
At her he freely did let flie,
and bumbde her well
Tantara, tara, tantara,
unguentum Bakaline:
Did make this houswife quickly pinne,
the Basket passyng fine.

This pastyme pleased well the Page,
that all this while:
Sat on his horse, and sawe this rage,
and bitter broyle:
Tantara, tara, tantara.
the good wife doeth retire,

And swears she will no more deny,
her housbandes just desire.

The Basket pinde, the Page departes,
when all is paied:
He spurres his cutte, the Jade startes,
he was so fraied:
Tantara, tara, tantara,
in haste he homewarde rides,
Yet when he comes, for tariyng long,
his Maister chafes and chides.

His Mistres too as one halfe madde,
beganne to rave:
Because too long he taried had,
she calde hym knave:
Tantara, tara, tantara,
he spake his Mistres faire:
And tolde her she should knowe the cause,
of his long tariyng there.

Then boldly he began his tale,
and tolde them all:
Betwixt these two, how Beaudly Ale,
had bred a braull:
Tantara, tara, tantara,
quoth he the Chandlers wife,
Would not intreated be to pinne,
the Basket for his life.

Till he to beate her did beginne,
with bounsyng bloose:
Then quickly she in poste to pinne,
the Basked goose:
Tantara, tara, tantara,
the Joigner joyes at this,
But sure his wife to heare this tale,
was quite bereft of blisse.

The Joigners wife, [?]h[?] Dame,
whose gallant grace,
Was chaunged, now beganne to frame:
a frounyng face:
Tantara, tara, tantara,
quoth she for all his bloose,
The knave the Basket should have pinde,
hymself spight of his nose.

Here then her housebande did beginne,
quoth he if I:
Should bid you wife the Basket pinne,
would you deny:
Tantara, tara, tantara,
to hym she plainly tolde,
That she the Basket would not pinne,
thereof he might be bolde.

Then thei hereof for to conferre,
doe haste to bedde:
And here you see a seconde jarre,
the Basket bredde:
Tantara, tara, tantara,
the thirde doeth now beginne,
The sillie Page to get some meate,
in haste doeth hye hym in.

No whit amazde unto the maide,
he straight doeth goe:
The queane of hym no more afraide,
beganne to crowe:
Tantara, tara, tantara,
caulyng hym knave and sot,
And used hym that in the ende,
a broken head he got.

Henceforthe take heede of makyng strife,
thou knave quoth she:
Betwixt thy maister and his wife,
where love should be:

Tantara, tara, tantara,
with greef her wordes he heares:
But yet it grieved hym more to feele,
the blood about his eares.

Yet up he stept full stoutly then,
and bomde me Jone,
That she lent, he so paide againe,
he made her grone.
Tantara, tara, tantara,
and getts his Supper too:
And made her sitte and eate with hym,
although with muche adoe.

His maister on the morowe nexte,
of this was glad:
His mistres was herewith so vexte,
it made her mad.
Tantara, tara, tantara,
this happe brynges joye and care:
For now the Joigners wife to pinne,
the Basket must prepare.

Her housebande by his mans good happe,
doeth hope to winne:
And makes her now spite of her cappe,
the Basket pinne:
Tantara, tara, tantara,
againe he doeth replie:
Will you the Basket pinne or no,
she stoutly doeth denie.

Then with a bedstaffe he to baste,
her doeth beginne:
Yet would she not for all his haste,
the Basket pinne:
Tantara, tara, tantara,
this combate beyng doen:
Unto a Justice house hard by,
in haste this Dame doeth runne.

And to this joylly Justice wife,
discoveryng all:
Betwixt her spouse and her what strife,
did late befall.
Tantara, tara, tantara,
whom she would faine have bounde,
Unto the peace if by the happe,
there might suche meanes be founde.

Of this her frende the francke consent,
she sone had wone:
To doe for her incontinent,
what might be doen.
Tantara, tara, tantara,
this Justice wife now gose:
Her gossipps sute in haste unto,
her housebande to disclose.

Her housebande hearyng by this tale,
how all thynges stood:
In mynde he at this jeste so stale,
did laugh a good.
Tantara, tara, tantara,
a little more adoe:
This Justice would have taught his wife,
to pinne the Basket too.

Now all good wives beware by this,
your names to blot:
The Basket pinne with quietnesse:
denie it not.
Tantara, tara, tantara,
be counsailed by your frende:
And of this Baskettes pinnyng now,
enough and so an ende.


Finis.
quod. T. Rider.
Imprinted at London for Henrie Kirkham, and are to be sold at his shop, at
the little North doore of Paules, at the signe of the blacke Boye.

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