Enter SOLDIER.

Soldier. In comes I, the soldier bold, Bold Slaughterer is my name,

With sword and sash hung by my side, I hope to win

the game.

Where is the man that bids me stand,

Who swore he'd kill me sword in hand?

I'd cut him, and pierce him as small as flies,
And send him to Jamaica to make mince-pies,
Mince-pies hot, mince-pies cold,

I'd send the cook to fetch him before he's nine days old.

Enter KING GEORGE.

I count myself as good as thee.

King George. So does I as good as thee.
So battle, to battle, let thee and I try

To see which on the ground dead first shall lie.
So mind your eyes and guard your blows,
Or else I'll tap you on the nose.

[They fight, and the Soldier Bold of
Prussia falls.

King George. Is there a doctor in the land That'll cure this man that's on the ground? Doctor. Yes, there's a doctor in the land, Capable of head and hand;

And if this man has got a cough,

I'll cure him without cutting his head off.
And if this man has lost his head,

I'll put a donkey's on instead.

And if this man will pay me well,

No secret will I ever tell;

And if he won't, I'll leave him as a sinner,

And he shall eat a bunch of thistles for his Christmas

dinner.

Such being the case, as it were before,
Raise up thy head and fight no more.

Come in, Bold Robin Hood.

Robin Hood. Here comes I, bold Robin Hood, with bended bow of yew-tree wood, my arrows sharp, and for my quiver

I'll choose an elderly man's good fat liver.
Down under the greenwood tree,
Merrily I come to thee,

To hunt the deer with horn and hound,
And bring our joys this way.

And when we get the nut-brown ale,
We'll start the hunting day.

Come in, brave Little John.

Little John. Here comes I, brave Little John,
With my quarter-staff I'll play the Don;
I'm not the man to cheat your cousin,
But knock men's brains out by the dozen.
Last Christmas-eve I turned the spit,
Burnt my fingers, and finds on't yet.
The skimmer run after the ladle,

The sparks fled over the table.

Ho! ho! said the gridiron, can't you two agree? Then, Oh, ho! said he, I'm the Justice, come, bring

him to me.

Come all ye jolly comrades, come listen unto me,

It's my belief, and join with us this merry Christmas

eve;

For what I've said and done will please the corum, And I'll drink all your honours in a jorum.

So ends this curious piece of mummery.

MELODIES OF THE MORRIS DANCERS

AT BAMPTON, OXON,

AS SUNG AT THE WHITSUNTIDE CLUB FEASTS.

GREEN GARTERS.

First for the stockings, and then for the shoes, And

then for the bon ny green gar

ters; A

pair

for me, and a pair for you, And a