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Broadside ballad entitled 'King Pippin'




sung with unbounded applause by S-r-T. D. L - r,

Bart. at a late whig Dinner.

I sing of KING PIPPIn, the chief of his race,
The joy of the garden, the pride of the place?
The pride of the place?not forgetting the tree?
And of all our Whig Apples, King Pippin for me !

                        Sing down down, down derry down.

He's just such a Pippin as one might conceive
To hang at the sign of The Adam and Eve;
And i' faith he might pass, if you saw him up there,
Both for the first Apple and primitive Pair !

                           Sing down down, down derry down.


It's surprising to think how we Whig Apples swim '.
Yet the Oxenford Rennet is nothing to Him ;
And our two Nonpareils, tho' of pretty fair growth,
Must own that King Pippin's as big as them both?
Sing down down, down derry down.


In my walks from Newhaven to far Fisherrow,
I have met with a Crab, or a Codling or so?
Yet I thought the whole district could hardly produce
Common apples enough to make sauce for its goose-
Sing down down, down derry down.

But a Pippin like this!?I'd be tempted to swear
By my grandmother Maggy,* that all was not fair ?
There must have ben forcing - and yet it is strange
That forcing itself will not do at the G?e !

                  Sing down down, down derry down.

But howe'er they have rear'd him, no man can disguise,
He's a Pippin of most preternatural size;
And if Newton had sat where he fell from on high,
Gravitation must still have been " all in my eye"?

Sing down down, down derry down.


Both the sage and his system had then been laid low,
And science had never recovered the blow;
How fortunate then , both for system and sage,
That PIPPY appears in a different age!

             Sing down down, down derry down.


There's a curious maxim of late taken root,
That the tree may be known, as it were, by its fruit?
And surely King Pippin an answer must be
To all who would seek to disparage the tree,

Singing down down, down derry down.

Oh ! call him not fozy, though thus overgrown?
He's a flavour, as well as a size , quite his own-
And whether you boil him, or whether yon bake,
He's Pippin no mortal can ever mistake-

             Sing down down, down, derry down.


Horticultural meetings are now quite the go,
And when Pippin appears at the ensuing show
The Ghost of old D?n must certainly rise
To make him a speech, and present him the prize!
Sing down down, down derry down.


But I'm sure he's thin-skinn'd, as most good apples are,
And my wit may have carried me rather too far?
He's certainly too good an apple to roast,
So I now will conclude, and King Pippin's my toast?
Sing down down, down derry down.

"wha wadna be in love wi' bonny Maggy Lauder-

               A PIPER met her," &c.


Butler, Printer, Edinburgh.

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Probable period of publication: 1830-1840   shelfmark: RB.m.143(171)
Broadside ballad entitled 'King Pippin'
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