Part 33 (1/2)
”Luck, Luck in tha Bag! Good Luck!
Put in an try yer fortin; Come, try yer luck in tha Lucky Bag!
You'll git a prize vor sartin.”
Mooast plazen ha their customs Ther manners an ther men; We too a got our customs, Our manners and our men.
He who a bin ta Huntspill Fayer Or Highbridge--Pawlet Revel-- Or Burtle Sa.s.sions, whaur tha pla Zumtimes tha very devil,
Mist mine once a man well That war a call'd TOM GOOL; Zum thawt en mazed, while withers thawt En moor a knave than fool.
At all tha fayers an revels too TOM GOOL war shower ta be, A takin vlother vast awa,-- A hoopin who bit he.
Vor' all that a had a zoort o' wit That zet tha vawk a laughin; An mooast o' that, when ho tha yal Ad at tha fayer bin quaffin.
A corr'd a kit o' pedlar's waur, Like awld _Joannah Martin_; [Footnote: This Lady, who was for many years known in Somersets.h.i.+re as an itinerant dealer in earthenware, rags, &c., and occasionally a _fortune-teller_, died a few years since at Huntspill, where she had resided for the greater part of a century. She was extremely illiterate, so much so, as not to be able to write, and, I think, could scarcely read. She lived for some years in a house belonging to my father, and while a boy, I was very often her gratuitous amanuensis, in writing letters for her to her children. She possessed, however, considerable shrewdness, energy, and perseverance, and ama.s.sed property to the amount of several hundred pounds. She had three husbands; the name of the first was, I believe, _Gool_ or _Gould_, a relation of _Thomas Gool_, the subject of the above Poem; the name of the second was _Martin_, of the third _Pain_; but as the last lived a short time only after having married her, she always continued to be called Joannah Martin.
_Joannah_ was first brought into public notice by the Rev.
Mr. WARNER, in his _Walks through the Western Counties_, published in 1800, in which work will be found a lively and interesting description of her; but she often said that she should wish me to write her life, as I was, of course, more intimately acquainted with it than any casual inquirer could possibly be. An additional notice of Joannah was inserted by me in the _Monthly Magazine_, for Nov. 1816, page 310. I had among my papers, the _original song composed_ by her, which I copied from her dictation many years ago,--the only, copy in existence; I regret that I cannot lay my hand upon it; as it contains much of the Somersets.h.i.+re idiom. I have more than once heard her sing this song, which was satirical, and related to the conduct of a female, one of her neighbours, who had become a thief.
Such was JOANNAH MARTIN, a woman whose name (had she moved in a sphere where her original talents could have been improved by education,) might have been added to the list of distinguished female worthies of our country.
[The MS. song was never, that I am aware of, discovered after my relative's death.--Editor, J. K. J.]]
An nif yon han't a hired o' her, You zumtime sholl vor sartin.
”Luck, Luck in tha Bag!” TOM, cried ”Put in and try yer fortin; Come try yer luck in tha lucky bag; You'll git a prize vor sartin.
All prizes, norra blank, Norra blank, all prizes!
A waiter--knife--or scissis sheer-- A splat o' pins--put in my dear!-- Whitechapel nills all sizes.
Luck, Luck in tha Bag!--only a penny vor a venter--you mid get, a- ma-be, a girt prize--a _Rawman waiter!_--I can avoord it as cheep as thic that stawl it--I a bote it ta trust, an niver intend to pa vor't. Luck, Luck in tha bag! all prizes; norra blank!
Luck, Luck in tha Bag! Good Luck!
Put in an try yer fortin; Come, try yer luck in tha lucky bag!
You'll git a prize vor sartin.
Come, niver mine tha single-sticks, Tha whoppin or tha stickler, You dwon't want now a brawken head, ”Nor jitchy zoort o' tickler!
Now Lady! yer prize is--'A SNUFF-BOX,'
A treble-j.a.pann'd Pontypool!
You'll shower come again ta my luck in tha bag, Or niver trust me--TOMMY GOOL.
Luck, Luck in tha bag! Good Luck!
Put in an try yer fortin; Come, try yer luck in tha lucky bag!