The old English gentleman an old ballad

              I'll sing you a good old Song, That was made by a good old Pate,
Of a fine Old English Gentleman who had an old Estate;
Who kept up his old Mansion At a bountiful old rate,
With a good old Porter to relieve the old Poor at his Gate,
Like a fine old English Gentleman, one of the Olden Time.

His hall so old was hung about with pikes, guns, and bows,
And swords, and good old bucklers, which had stood some tough old blows;
'Twas there 'His Worship' sat in state, in doublet and trunk hose,
And quaff'd his cup of good old sack to comfort his old nose,
Like a fine old English Gentleman, one of the Olden Time.

His custom was when Christmas came, to bid  his friends repair
To his old hall, where feast and ball for them he did prepare;
And though the rich he entertain'd, he ne'er forgot the poor,
Nor was the houseless wanderer e'er driven from the door
Of this good old English Gentleman, one of the Olden Time.

Yet all, at length, must bend to fate! so, like the ebbing tide,
Declining gently to the last, the fine Old Man he died;
The widows' and the orphans' tears bedew'd his cold grave’s side,
And where's the scutcheon that can show so much the worth and pride
Of a fine old English Gentleman, one of the Olden Time.

But times and seasons though they change, and customs pass away,
Yet English hands and English hearts will prove Old England's sway;
And though our coffers mayn’t be fill'd as they were wont of yore,
We still have hands to fight, if need, and hearts to help the poor,
Like a fine old English Gentleman, one of the Olden Time.

When Winter old brought frost and cold, he opened house to all,
And though four score and ten his years, he featly led the ball;
Nor was the houseless wanderer e'er driven from his hall,
For while he feasted all the Great, he ne'er forgot the Small;
Like a fine old English Gentleman, one of the Olden Time.

But life though sweet, is fleeting fast, and years roll swiftly by;
And autumn's falling leaf proclaim'd, this good Old Man must die;
He laid him down right tranquilly, expired without a sigh;
A solemn silence reign'd around, and tears bedew'd each eye,
For this fine old English Gentleman, one of the Olden Time.


The Old and New Courtier

Here is an old song, made by an old ancient pate,
Of an old worshipful gentleman who had a great estate;
Who kept an old house, at a bountiful rate,
And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate,
Like an old courtier of the queen’s, and the queen’s old courtier.

With an old lady whose anger good words assuages,
Who ev’ry quarter pays her old servants their wages,
Who never knew what belong’d to coachmen, footmen, and pages,
But kept twenty or thirty old fellows with blue clothes and badges:
Like an old courtier of the queen’s, and the queen’s old courtier.

With a study fill’d full of learned books;
With an old rev’rend parson – you may judge him by his looks;
With an old buttery hatch, worn quite off the old hooks;
And an old kitchen which maintain’d half a dozen old cooks:
Like an old courtier of the queen’s, and the queen’s old courtier.

With an old hall hung round about with guns, pikes and bows;
With old swords and bucklers, which have borne many shrewd blows;
And an old frysadoe coat, to cover his worship’s trunk hose;
And a cup of old sherry to comfort his copper nose:
Like an old courtier of the queen’s, and the queen’s old courtier.

With an old fashion, when Christmas is come,
To call in his neighbours with bagpipe and drum;
And good cheer enough to furnish every old room;
And old liquor, able to make a cat speak, and a wise man dumb:
Like an old courtier of the queen’s, and the queen’s old courtier.

With an old huntsman, a falconer, and a kennel of hounds,\
Which never hunted, nor hawk’d, but in his own grounds;
Who, like a wise old man, kept himself within his own bounds;
And when he died gave ev’ry child a thousand old pounds:
Like an old courtier of the queen’s, and the queen’s old courtier.

But to his eldest son his house and land he assign’d,
Charging him in his will to keep the same bountiful mind;
To be good to his servants, and to his neighbours kind;
But in the ensuing ditty, you shall hear how he was inclin’d:
Like an old courtier of the queen’s, and the queen’s old courtier.

Like a young gallant, newly come to his land,
That keeps a brace of creatures at’s own command,
And take up a thousand pound upon’s own bond,
And lieth drunk in a new tavern till he can neither go ore stand:
Like an old courtier of the queen’s, and the queen’s old courtier.

With a neat lady that is fresh and fair,
Who never knew what belong’d to good house-keeping or care,
But buys several fans to play with the wanton air,
And seventeen or eighteen dressings of other women’s hair.
Like an old courtier of the queen’s, and the queen’s old courtier.

With a new hall built where the old one stood,
Wherein is burned neither coal nor wood;
And a new shuffle-board table where never meat stood,
Hung round with pictures, which do the poor little good
Like an old courtier of the queen’s, and the queen’s old courtier.

With a new study stuff’d full of pamphlets and plays;
With a new chaplain that swears faster than he prays;
With a new buttery-hatch that opens once in four or five days,
With a French cook, French footman, and other new Frenchified ways:
Like an old courtier of the queen’s, and the queen’s old courtier.

With a new fashion when Christmas is come,
With a journey up to London, we must be gone,
And leave nobody at home but our new porter John,
Who relieves the poor with a thump on the back with a stone.
Like an old courtier of the queen’s, and the queen’s old courtier.

With a gentleman usher whose carriage is complete;
With a footman, a coachman, a page to carry meat;
With a waiting gentlewoman whose dressing is very neat,
Who when the master has din’d gives the servants little meat:
Like an old courtier of the queen’s, and the queen’s old courtier.

With a new honour bought with his father’s old gold;
That many of his father’s old manors hath sold;
And that is the occasion that most men do hold
That good houskeeping is now-a-days grown so cold:
Like an old courtier of the queen’s, and the queen’s old courtier.