The Bridle-Cull and his little Pop-Gun

The Bridle-Cull and his little Pop-Gun
By PIERCE EGAN in Captain Macheath.


My brave brother troopers, slap-up in the abode,
Come listen unto me while I chant about “the Road”;
Oh prick up your list’ners if you are fond of fun 1 ears
A bridle-cull’s the hero, and his little pop-gun. 2 highwayman
  Fal, de, rol! lal! lal! la!


One morning early he went, this rollicking blade, 3 fellow
To pick the blunt up, and he met a nice young maid; 4 money
“I’ll not rob you,” said he, “and so you needn’t bunk: 5 run away
But she lammas’d off in style, of his pop-gun afunk 6 went off; afraid
  Fal, de, rol! lal! lal! la!”


Then up came a stage-coach, and thus the gloque did say, 7 highwayman
I’m sorry for to stop you, but you must hear my lay;
“Come, stand and deliver! if not, sure as the sun,
Your journey I will stop with my little pop-gun.”
  Fal, de, rol! lol! lol!


“Tis by these little lays a High-padsman he thrives, 8 highwayman
”Oh take all our rhino, but pray spare our lives!“ 9 money
Cry the passengers who anxious all are for to run,
Frightened nigh to death by his little pop-gun.”
  Fol, de, rol.

Then, my blades, when you’re bush’d, and must have the swag, 10 companions; out of luck; plunder
Walk into tattlers, shiners, and never fear the lag; 11 watches; money; transportation
Then patter to all spicey, and tip ’em lots of fun, 12 talk; civilly; give
And blunt you’ll never want while you’ve got a pop-gun. 13 money
  Fol, de, rol! la!


See Note to “Sonnets for The Fancy” p. 225. Captain Macheath was one of Egan’s latest, and by no means one of his best, productions. It is now very scarce.

Taken from Musa Pedestris, Three Centuries of Canting Songs and Slang Rhymes [1536―1896], collected and annotated by John S. Farmer.

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. . .
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The Thieves’ Chaunt
The House Breaker’s Song
The Faking Boy To The Crap Is Gone
The Nutty Blowen
The Faker’s New Toast
My Mother
The High-Pad’s Frolic
The Dashy, Splashy.... Little Stringer
The Bould Yeoman
The Bridle-Cull and his little Pop-Gun
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Miss Dolly Trull
The By-Blow Of The Jug
The Cadger’s Ball
Dear Bill, This Stone-Jug
The Leary Man
A Hundred Stretches Hence
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. . .