Of the Street Poets and Authors.

Authorship, for street sale, is chiefly confined to the production of verse, which, whatever be its nature, is known through the trade as “ballads.” Two distinctions, indeed, are recognised--“Ballads” and “Ballads on a Subject.” The last-mentioned is, as I have said and shown, the publication which relates to any specific event; national or local, criminal or merely extraordinary, true or false. Under the head “Ballads,” the street-sellers class all that does not come under the description of “Ballads on a Subject.”

The same street authors--now six in number--compose indiscriminately any description of ballad, including the copy of verses I have shown to be required as a necessary part of all histories or trials of criminals. When the printer has determined upon a “Sorrowful Lamentation,” he sends to a poet for a copy of verses, which is promptly supplied. The payment I have already mentioned--1s.; but sometimes, if the printer (and publisher) like the verses, he “throws a penny or two over;” and sometimes also, in case of a great sale, there is the same over-sum.

Fewer ballads, I was assured, than was the case ten or twelve years ago, are now written expressly for street sale or street minstrelsy. “They come to the printer, for nothing, from the concert-room. He has only to buy a ‘Ross’ or a ‘Sharp’” [song-books] “for 1d., and there’s a lot of ’em; so, in course, a publisher ain’t a-going to give a bob, if he can be served for a farthing, just by buying a song-book.”

Another man, himself not a “regular poet,” but a little concerned in street productions, said to me, with great earnestness: “Now look at this, sir, and I hope you’ll just say, sir, as I tell you. You’ve given the public a deal of information about men like me, and some of our chaps abuses you for it like mad; but I say it’s all right, for it’s all true. Now you’ll have learned, sir, or, any way, you will learn, that there’s songs sung in the streets, and sometimes in some tap-rooms, that isn’t decent, and relates to nothing but wickedness. There wasn’t a few of those songs once written for the streets, straight away, and a great sale they had, I know--but far better at country fairs and races than in town. Since the singing-houses--I don’t mean where you pay to go to a concert, no! but such as your Cyder-cellars, and your night-houses, where there’s lords, and gentlemen, and city swells, and young men up from the colleges--since these places has been up so flourishing, there hasn’t, I do believe, been one such song written by one of our poets. They all come from the places where the lords, and genelmen, and collegians is capital customers; and they never was a worse sort of ballads than now. In course those houses is licensed, and perticler respectable, or it wouldn’t be allowed; and if I was to go to the foot of the bridge, sir (Westminster-bridge), and chaunt any such songs, and my mate should sell them, why we should very soon be taking reg’lar exercise on Colonel Chesterton’s everlasting staircase. We has a great respect for the law--O, certainly!”

Parodies on any very popular song, which used to be prepared expressly for street trade, are now, in like manner, derived from the night-house or the concert-room; but not entirely so. The parody “Cab, cab, cab!” which was heard in almost every street, was originated in a concert-room.

The ballads which have lately been written, and published expressly for the street sale, and have proved the most successful, are parodies or imitations of “The Gay Cavalier.” One street ballad, commencing in the following words, was, I am told, greatly admired, both in the streets and the public-houses.

“’Twas a dark foggy night, And the moon gave no light, And the stars were all put in the shade: When leary Joe Scott, Dealt in ‘Donovan’s hot’ Said he’d go to court his fair maid.”

I now give three stanzas of “The Way to Live Happy Together,”--a ballad said to have been written expressly for street sale. Its popularity is anything but discreditable to the street-buyers:

“From the time of this world’s first formation You will find it has been the plan, In every country and nation, That woman was formed to please man; And man for to love and protect them, And shield them from the frowns of the world, Through the smooth paths of life to direct them, And he who would do less is a churl.

Then listen to me! If you would live happy together, As you steer through the troubles of life, Depend that this world’s greatest treasure, Is a kind and a good-tempered wife.

Some men will ill-use a good woman, And say all they do turns out wrong, But as I mean to offend no one, You’ll find faults to both sides belong; But if both were to look at the bright side, And each other’s minds cease to pain, They would find they have looked at the right side, For all would be summer again.

Then listen to me! If you would live happy together, &c.

Married women, don’t gossip or tattle, Remember it oft stirs up strife, But attend to your soft children’s soft prattle, And the duties of mother and wife. And men, if you need recreation, With selfish companions don’t roam, Who might lead you to sad degradation, But think of your comforts at home.

Then listen to me! If you would live happy together, &c.”

“It’s all as one, sir,” was the answer of a man whom I questioned on the subject; “it’s the same poet; and the same tip for any ballad. No more nor a bob for nothing.”

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[13] This is evidently a rude copy of Lawrence’s picture of George the Fourth.