English & Other 164. King Henry V's Conquest

English & Other 164. King Henry V's Conquest of France

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The ballads & songs of Derbyshire:
By Llewellynn Frederick William Jewitt; 1867


King Henry V.,  His Conquest of France, in Revenge for the Affront offered by the French King, in sending him (instead of the Tribute) a Ton of Tennis-balls.

THIS is one of the most curious and popular of the series of Derbyshire ballads, and one which, in its early broad-sheet form, is of great rarity. The broad-sheet from which it is here reprinted, is "Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard, Bow Lane, London." It is printed broad-way of the sheet, with two short columns of three verses each beneath the engraving, and one whole column of eight verses at the side. The engraving represents a fortification, with central tower, with the Union Jack flying ; the sea in front, with a ship and some small boats ; and two 'tall soldiers in midground, evidently "on guard." Versions of this ballad have been printed by Mr. Dixon, in the volume on Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, edited by him for the Percy Society, and in other collections. Printed copies are to be found in the Roxburghe Collection in the British Museum, and in the Hallivvell Collection in the Chetham Library, Manchester. The one here given is from the original broad-sheet in my own collection.

The ballad will be at once seen to refer to the battle of Agincourt, which was a prolific source of inspiration to the ballad and song writers of the time, and of later years. Tradition bears out the noble feature of the ballad—that of no married man or widow's son being either recruited or pressed into the service of the Sovereign over this expedition. A tradition still obtains in the Peak, among the "hills that are so free," that when Henry V. was recruiting Derbyshire and the adjoining counties, he declared that he would take no married man, and that no widow's son should be of his company, for no woman's curse should go with him in his righteous expedition.

The ballad is still not unfrequently sung in snatches by the miners and other hardy sons of the Peak, the verse being usually rendered :—

" No married man, nor no widow's son,    
Will I ever ask to go with me ;  
For I will take no widow's curse   
From the Derby hills that are so free."

It is said that on one occasion, when George III. was reviewing a brigade of Guards in Hyde Park, he was particularly struck with the fine stalwart and manly bearing of one of the regiments,* and calling out to the nearest man in the ranks, asked, "Well, my fine fellow, where are you from, eh?" "Derbyshire, please your Majesty," was the reply, " Eh, Derbyshire eh! From Derby hills so free," rejoined the King, showing that he must have been acquainted with the ballad we now print.

The tune to which this Ballad was sung I here give. I am not aware that it has ever before been printed. I remember hearing it frequently sung when I was a boy, and the spirit with which it was sung is still fresh in my memory. It is as follows :—

[music] As our king lay mus-ing on his bed,
He be-thoughthim-selfup

* It is worthy of note, that of late years the Derbyshire Volunteers have received the marked compliment of being specially noted for their manly bearing and their distinguished appearance by her present Majesty, and by the Commander-in-Chief, H.R.H. the Duke of Cambridge, on each of the occasions of general review of the Volunteer force in Hyde Park.


on a time, Of a tri-bute that was due from France, Had not been paid for so


Another traditional version of the tune to which the ballad was sung, and which, like the one just given, is common to it and to " Robin Hood and the Pedlar," which begins—

" I'll tell you of a pedlar bold,
A pedlar bold he chanced to be,
On he roll'd his pack upon his back,
As he came tripping o'er the lea."

has been kindly supplied to me by my friend Mr. William Chappell, F.S.A , the gifted author of that admirable work, " Popular Music of the Olden Time." It is as follows :—


[music] on a time, Of a tri - bute that was due from France, Had not been paid for so


As our king lay musing on his bed,
He bethought himself upon a time,
Of a tribute that was due from France,
Had not been paid for so long a time.  
                 Fal, lal, &c.

He called for his lovely page,
 His lovely page then called he;
Saying, " You must go to the King of France,
To the King of France, sir, ride speedily." 
                   Fal, lal, &c.

O then away went this lovely page, This lovely page then away went he ; Lo he came to the King of France, And then he fell down on his bended knee.                   Fal, lal, &c. " My master greets you, worthy Sir, Ten ton of gold that is due to he, That you will send him his tribute home, Or in French land you soon will him see."                   Fal, lal, &c. " Your master's young, and of tender years, Not fit to come into my degree ;
And I will send him three Tennis-Balis, That with them he may learn to play."                    Fal, lal, &c. 0 then returned this lovely page, This lovely page then returned he, And when he came to our gracious King, Low he fell down on his bended knee.                    Fal, lal, &c. " What news ? What news ? my trusty page, What is the news you have brought to me ?" " I have brought such news from the King of France, That he and you will ne'er agree.                    Fal, lal, &c. " He says, you 're young, and of tender years, Not fit to come into his degree; And he will send you three Tennis-Bails, That with them you may learn to play."                   Fal, lal, &c. " Recruit me Cheshire and Lancashire, And Derby Hills that are so free ; No marry'd man, or widow's son, For no widow's curse shall go with me."                    Fal, lal, &c. They recruited Cheshire and Lancashire, And Derby Hills that are so free; No marry'd man, nor no widow's son, Yet there was a jovial bold company.                    Fal, lal, &c. O then we march'd into the French land, With drums and trumpets so merrily; And then bespoke the King of France, " Lo ! yonder comes proud King Henry."                    Fal, lal, &c. The first shot that the Frenchmen gave, They kill'd our Englishmen so free ; We kill'd ten thousand of the French, And the rest of them they run away.                    Fal, lal, &c. And then we marched to Paris gates, With drums and trumpets so merrily, O then bespoke the King of France, " The Lord have mercy on my men and me !                    Fal, lal, &c. "01 will send him his tribute home, Ten ton of gold that is due to he, And the finest flower that is in all France, To the Rose of England I will give free."                    Fal, lal, &c.