The Word on the Street
home | background | illustrations | distribution | highlights | search & browse | resources | contact us

Broadside ballad entitled 'The Blockade of Edinburgh Castle; or, Captain Taylor in Livingston's Yards'


The Blockade of Edinburgh Castle;         

                      O R

Captain TAYLOR in Livingston's Yards.

            WHERE wholesom Pot-Herbs flourish all around,
                   And spring luxuriant from the fertile Ground,
                      Behind a Bush, whose scanty Leaves afford
                   A slight Defence, whilst loud the Cannons roar'd.
High o'er his Head, and whistling thro' the Air,
                      The lethal Bullets fly in dack Despair,
Taylor on the cold Earth extended lay,
And thus himself bemoan'd??O luckless Day
That brought me to my Fate ! On every Side
Immediate Death appears.   Where shall I hide
This trembling feeble Carcass Whither fly ?
Was ever Creature half so wretch'd as I ?

O were I 'mong those safe Retreats conceal'd,
Which Arthur's Seat, and rocky Caltoun yield!
In some dark Cavern funk, or Den profound !
Where I no more might hear th' alarming Sound
Of those dire Engines, thund'ring in my Ears,
My Soul transfixing with a thousand Fears.

Last Night, When wearied with the Toils of Day,
Stretch'd on my Couch at Ease I slumb'ring lay,
Methought I took the Castle by Surprise,
And all their Treasure seizd; with ravish'd Eyes
The wealthy place survey'd delightful View!
Excess of Joy me fill'd, I ran, I few,
And first to Court myself the Tidings bore.
My Valour all applaud, my Conduct more.

Ah fatal Dream! what Madness me possest.
To trust an idle Dream! ?A Dream at best.
What oft my Grannum told, now, to my Loss,
Too late I see, that Dreams are ever cross.
Wretch that I am ! my Fate approaches fast.
Would I had ne'er afpir'd beyond my LAST!
O had I still continu'd in my Stall,      
And ply"d assiduous the bended Awl !
Thus might I hope in Peace my Days to spend,
And shun'd this damnable unhappy End.

Fam'd Crispin's tawny Sons, you swarthy Race,

Who whistle to the Awl in ev'ry Place,
                               O think on Taylor Fate Ambition fly,                  

Still keep within your Sphere, nor climb too high,
Left suddenly, like we, you headlong fall,
    Unpitied, jeer'd, and ridicul'd, by ALL.

                F I N I S .

previous pageprevious          
Probable date published: 1745   shelfmark: S.302.b.2(120)
Broadside ballad entitled 'The Blockade of Edinburgh Castle; or, Captain Taylor in Livingston's Yards'
View larger image

NLS home page   |   Digital gallery   |   Credits

National Library of Scotland © 2004

National Library of Scotland