University of Virginia Library

THE CROSS ROADS OR HAYMAKERS STORY

Stopt by the storm that long in sullen black
From the south west staind its encroaching track
Haymakers hussling from the rain to hide
Sought the grey willows by the pasture side
& there while big drops bow the grassy stems
& bleb the withering hay with pearly gems
Dimple the brook & patter in the leaves
The song & tale an hours restraint relieves
& while the old dames gossip at their ease
& pinch the snuff box empty by degrees
The young ones join in loves delightfull themes
Truths told by gipsys & expounded dreams
& mutterd things kept secrets from the rest
Of sweethearts names & who they love the best
& dazzling ribbons they delight to show
The last new favours of some weigling beau
That with such treacherey trys their hearts to move
& like the highest bribes the maidens love
The old dames jealous of their wisperd praise
Throw in their hints of mans deluding ways
& one to give her counsels more effect
& by examples illustrate the fact
Of innoscence oercome by flattering man
Thrice tappd her box & pinchd & thus began
‘Now wenches listen & let lovers lye
‘Yell hear a story ye may profit bye
‘Im your age threble wi some oddments to't
‘& right from wrong can tell if yell but do't
‘Ye neednt giggle underneath yer hats
‘Mines no joke matters let me tell you that
‘So keep yer quiet till my storys told
‘& dont despise yer betters cause theyre old
‘I wish ye well upon my soul I do
‘& just another pinch & Ill pursue
‘That grave yeve heard of were the four roads meet
‘Were walks the spirit in a winding sheet
‘Oft seen at night by strangers passing late
‘& tarrying neighbours that at market wait
‘Stalking along as white as driven snow
‘& s longs ones shadow when the sun is low
‘The girl thats buried there I knew her well
‘& her whol[e] history if yell hark can tell
‘Her name was Jane & neighbours childern we
‘& old companions once as ye may be
‘& like to you on sundays often strolld
‘To Gipseys camps to have our fortunes told
‘& oft god rest her in the fortune book
‘Which we at hay time in our pockets took
‘Our pins at blindfold on the wheel have stuck
‘When hers woud always prick the worst of luck
‘For try poor thing as often as she might
‘Her point woud always on the blank alight
‘Which plainly shows the fortune ones to have
‘As such like go unwedded to the grave
‘& so it provd—the next succeeding may
‘We both went service from our sports & play
‘Tho in the village still as friends & kin
‘Thought neighbours service better to begin
‘As they considerd planning for the best
‘Theyd be more kind then strangers woud at first
‘So out we went Janes place was reckond good
‘Tho she 'bout life but little understood
‘For she'd a master wild as wild can be
‘& far unfit for such a child as she
‘& soon the wisper went about the town
‘That Janes good looks procurd her many a gown
‘From him whose promise was to every one
‘But whose intention was to wive with none
‘Twas nought to wonder tho begun by guess
‘For Jane was lovly in her sunday dress
‘& all expected such a rosey face
‘Woud be her ruin—as was just the case
‘The while the change was easily percievd
‘Some months went by ere I such tales believd
‘For theres such people nowadays Lord knows
‘Woud sooner hatch up lies then mend their cloahs
‘& when wi such like tattle they begin
‘Dont mind whose character they spoil a pin
‘Else passing neighbours often markd em smile
‘& watchd him take her milkpail oer a stile
‘& many a time as wandering closer bye
‘From Jenneys bosom met an heavy sigh
‘& often markd her as discoursing deep
‘As doubts might rise to give just cause to weep
‘In smoth[er]ing notice by a wisht disguise
‘To slive her apron corner to her eyes
‘Such signs were mournfull & alarming things
‘& far more weighty then conjecture brings
‘Tho foes made double what they heard of all
‘Swore lies as proofs & prophysied her fall
‘Poor thoughtless wench it seems but sunday past
‘Sin we went out together for the last
‘& plain enough indeed it was to find
‘Shed somthing more then common on her mind
‘For she was always fond & full of chat
‘In passing harmless jokes 'bout beaus & that
‘But nothing then was scarcly talkd about
‘& what there was I even forcd it out
‘A gloomy wanness spoilt her rosey cheek
‘& doubts hung there that was not mine to seek
‘She neer so much as mentiond things to come
‘But sighd oer pleasures ere she left her home
‘& now & then a mournfull smile woud raise
‘At freaks repeated of our younger days
‘As I brought up while passing spots of ground
‘Where we when childern hurly burly'd round
‘Or blind mans bluffd some morts of hours away
‘Two games poor thing Jane dearly lovd to play
‘She smild at these but shook her head & sighd
‘When ere she thought my look was turnd aside
‘Nor turnd she round as was her former way
‘To praise the thorn white over then with may
‘Nor stooped once tho thousands round her grew
‘To pull a cowslip as she usd to do
‘For Jane in flowers delighted from a child
‘I like the garden but she lovd the wild
‘& oft on sundays young mens gifts declind
‘Poesys from gardens of the sweetest kind
‘& eager scrambd the single rose to get
‘& woodbine flowers at every bush she met
‘& cowslip blossom with its ruddy streak
‘Woud tempt her furlongs from the pad to seek
‘& gay long purple with its tufty spike
‘Shed wade oer shoes to reach it in the dyke
‘& oft while scratting thro the briery woods
‘For tempting cuckoo flowers & vi'let buds
‘Poor Jane Ive known her crying sneak to town
‘& fear her mother when shed tore her gown
‘Ah these were days her conscience viewd wi pain
‘Which all are loath to loose as well as Jane
‘& what I took more odd then all the rest
‘Was that same night she neer a wish exprest
‘To see the gipseys so belovd before
‘That lay a stones throw from us on the moor
‘I hinted it she just replyd agen
‘She once believd 'em but had doubts since then
‘& when we sought our cows I calld ‘cum mull’
‘But she stood silent for her heart was full
‘She lovd dumb things & ere she milkd begun
‘To fuss & stroke them more then ere shed done
‘& tho her tears stood watering in her eye
‘I little took it as her last good bye
‘For she was tender & Ive often known
‘Her mourn for beetles thats bin trampld on
‘So I neer dreamd from this what soon befell
‘Till the next morning rung her passing bell
‘My storys long but times in plenty yet
‘Sin the black clouds betoken nought but wet
‘& Ill een snatch a minutes breath or two
‘& take another pinch to help me thro
‘So as I sed next morn I heard the bell
‘& passing neighbours crossd the street to tell
‘That my poor partner Jinney had bin found
‘In the old flag pool on the pasture drownd
‘God knows my heart I twitterd like a leaf
‘& found too late the cause of sundays grief
‘For every tongue was loosd to gabble oer
‘The slanderous things that secrets passd before
‘Wi truth or lies they neednt then be strickt
‘The one they raild at coudnt contradict
‘Twas now no secret of her being beguild
‘& every mouth knew Jinny dyd wi child
‘& tho more cautious with a living name
‘They more then guessd her master bore the blame
‘That very morning it affects me still
‘Ye know the foot pad sidles down the hill
‘Ign'rant as babe unborn I passd the pond
‘To milk as usual in our close beyond
‘& cows were drinking at the waters edge
‘& horses brousd among the flags & sedge
‘& nats & migens dancd the water oer
‘Just as Ive markd em scores o' times before
‘& birds sat singing as in mornings gone
‘While I as unconsernd went soodling on
‘But little dreaming as the wakening wind
‘Flappd the broad ash leaves oer the pond reclind
‘& oer the water crinkd the curdld wave
‘That Jane was sleeping in her watery grave
‘The netterd boy that usd to tend the cows
‘While getting whip sticks from the dangling boughs
‘Of osiers drooping by the water side
‘Her bonnet floating on the top espyd
‘He knew it well & hastnd fearful down
‘To take the terror of his fears to town
‘A melancholly story far too true
‘& soon the village to the pasture flew
‘Were from the deepest hole the pond about
‘They draggd poor Jinneys lifless body out
‘& took her home were scarce an hour gone bye
‘She had bin living like to you & I
‘I went wi more & kissd her for the last
‘& thought wi tears on pleasures that were past
‘& the last kindness left me then to do
‘I went at milking were her blossoms grew
‘& handfulls got of rose & lambtoe sweet
‘& put them with her in her winding sheet
‘A wilfull murder jury made the crime
‘Nor parson 'lowd to pray nor bell to chyme
‘On the cross roads far from her friends & kin
‘The usual law for such ungodly sin
‘Who violent hands upon themselves have laid
‘Poor Janes last bed unchristian like was made
‘& there like all whose last thoughts turn to heaven
‘She sleeps & doubtless hopd to be forgiven
‘& tho I sayt for maids thus weigld in
‘I think the wicked men deserve the sin
‘& sure enough we all at last shall see
‘The treachery punishd as it ought to be
‘For ere his wickedness pretended love
‘Jane was Ill bound as spotless as the dove
‘&s good a servant still old folks alow
‘As ever scourd a pail or milkd a cow
‘& ere he led her into ruins way
‘As gay & buxom as a summers day
‘The birds that ranted in the hedgerow boughs
‘As night & morning we have sought our cows
‘With yokes & buckets as she bouncd along
‘Were often deafd to silence with her song
‘But now shes gone—girls shun decietfull men
‘The worst of stumbles ye can fall agen
‘Be deaf to them & then as twere yell see
‘Yer pleasures safe as under lock & key
‘Throw not my words away as many do
‘Theyre gold in value tho theyre cheap to you
‘& husseys hearken & be warnd from this
‘If ye love mothers never do amiss
‘Jane might love hers but she forsook the plan
‘To make her happy when she thought of man
‘Poor tottering dame it was too plainly known
‘Her daughters dying hastend on her own
‘For from the day the tydings reachd her door
‘She took to bed & looked up no more
‘& ere agen another year came round
‘She well as Jane was laid within the ground
‘& all was grievd poor goodys end to see
‘No better neighbour enterd house then she
‘A harmless body wi no 'busive tongue
‘Trig as new pins & tights the day were long
‘& go the week about nine times in ten
‘Yed find her house as cleanly as her sen
‘But Lord protect us time such change does bring
‘We cannot dream what oer our heads may hing
‘The very house she livd in stick & stone
‘Sin goody dyd has tumbld down & gone
‘& where the majoram ance & sage & rue
‘& balm & mint wi curld leaf parsley grew
‘& double marygolds & silver thyme
‘& pumkins neath the window usd to climb
‘& where I often when a child for hours
‘Tryd thro the pails to get the tempting flowers
‘As Ladys Laces everlasting peas
‘True love lies bleeding with the hearts at ease
‘& golden rods & tanzey running high
‘That oer the pail tops smild on passers bye
‘Flowers in my time that every one woud praise
‘Tho thrown like weeds from gardens now adays
‘Were these all grew now henbane stinks & spreads
‘& docks & fissles shake their seedy heads
‘& yearly keeps wi nettles smothering oer
‘Nor house nor dame nor gardens known no more
‘While neighbouring nigh one lonly eldern tree
‘Is all thats left of what had us'd to be
‘Marking the place & bringing up wi tears
‘The recollections of ones younger years
‘& now Ive done yere each at once as free
‘To take yer trundle as ye usd to be
‘To take right ways as Jinney shoud have taen
‘Or headlong run & be a second Jane
‘For by one thoughtless girl thats acted ill
‘A thousand may be guided if they will
‘As oft mong folks to labour bustling on
‘We mark the foremost kick agen a stone
‘Or stumble oer a stile they meant to climb
‘While hind ones see & shun the fall in time
‘But ye Ill bound fort like a mort the best
‘Loves tickling nick nacks & the laughing jest
‘& ten times sooner then be warnd by me
‘Woud each be sitting on some fellows knee
‘& sooner 'lieve the lyes wild chaps will tell
‘Then old dames cautions who woud wish ye well
‘So have yer wills’—she pinchd her box again
& ceasd her tale & listnd to the rain
Which still as usual patterd fast around
& bowd the bent head loaded to the ground
While larks their naked nests by force forsook
Prund their wet wings in bushes by the brook
The maids impatient now old goody ceasd
As restless childern from the school releasd
Right gladly proving what she'd just foretold
That young ones stories was preferd to old
Turn to the wisperings of their former joy
That oft decieve but very rarely cloy