#01740
The Maid Of Rygate (William Hugh [W H] Logan)
See also: The Rich Merchant's Daughter (Peacock)

Near Rygate there lived a farmer,
Whose daughter to market would go,
Not fearing that any would harm her,
For often she rode to and from.

It fell one time among many,
A great store of corn she sold,
She having received the penny
In shillings, and guineas, and gold.

She rode a little way farther,
But, dreading some danger to find,
She sewed it up in her saddle,
Which was with leather well lined.

She riding a little way farther,
She met a thief on the highway,
A robber appareled, well mounted,
Who soon did oblige her to stay.

Three blows then he presently gave her,
Load pistols he held to her breast;
"Your money this moment deliver,
Or else you shall die, I protest."

This maiden was sorely affrighted,
And so was poor Doby the steed;
When down off his back she alighted,
He quickly ran home with great speed.

Then this damsel he stripped nearly naked,
And he gave her some sorrowful blows;
Says, "Girl you must patiently take it,
I'll have both your money and clothes."

The thief up his bundle was making,
His horse he obliged her to hold;
The poor girl stood trembling and shaking,
As though she would perish with cold.

The thief up his bundle was making,
And being rejoiced at his prize,
Says, "Yourself I shall shorly be taking,
As part of my baggage likewise."

The girl while she held fast the bridle,
Was beginning to grow more afraid.
Says she, "It's in vain to be idle,
I'll show you the trick of a maid."

Then up on the saddle she mounted,
Just as if she had been a young man,
As while on his money she counted,
"Pray follow me, sir, if you can."

The rogue in a passion he flew,
He cursed her, he swears, and he blows,
At length his words were, "Halloo!
Stay girl and I'll give you your clothes."

She says, "That's not so much matter,
You may keep them, kind sir, if you please."
He runs, but he could not get at her,
His boots they so hampered his knees.

She rode over hedges and ditches,
The way home she knew very well;
She left him a parcel of farthings,
The sum of five shillings to tell.

This maiden was sorely benighted,
From seven till twelve of the clock;
Her father was sorely affrighted,
To see her come stripped to her smock.

"O daughter, the matter come tell me,
And how you have tarried so long?"
She says, "Some hard fortune befell me,
But I have received no wrong."

They ended their sorrow with joy,
When in his portmanteau was found,
In a bundle a great sum of money,
In all about eight hundred pound.

O! Was this not rare of a maiden,
Who was in great danger of life?
With riches she's now overtaken,
No doubt she will make a good wife.

####.... Author unknown. Variant of a British broadside ballad, The Highwayman Outwitted [Laws L2] American Balladry From British Broadsides (G Malcolm Laws, 1957). Also a variant of a 19th-century British broadside ballad, The Highwayman Outwitted By The Farmer's Daughter, published by J Pitts (London) sometime between 1802 and 1819, and archived at the Bodleian Library Broadside Ballads, shelfmark: Harding B 25(844) ....####
This variant collected by William Hugh (W H) Logan, editor, and published in A Pedlar's Pack Of Ballads And Songs, With Illustrative Notes, pp.133-136, 1869, William Paterson, Edinburgh, 1869.

See more Logan ballad variants from NFLD.

A variant was also collected by Kenneth Peacock in 1952 in St John's, NL, from Gordon M Willis [1911-2001] of St John's, and published as The Rich Merchant's Daughter in Songs Of The Newfoundland Outports, Volume 1, pp.226-228, by the National Museum of Canada (1965) Crown Copyrights Reserved.


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