Fourth Class — Proverbs
LXXX
St. Swithin’s day, if thou dost rain,
For forty days it will remain:
St. Swithin’s day, if thou be fair,
For forty days ’twill rain na mair.
LXXXI
To make your candles last for a’,
You wives and maids give ear-o!
To put ’em out’s the only way,
Says honest John Boldero.
LXXXII
If wishes were horses,
Beggars would ride;
If turnips were watches,
I would wear one by my side.
LXXXIII
[Hours of sleep.]
Nature requires five,
Custom gives seven!
Laziness takes nine,
And Wickedness eleven.
LXXXIV
Three straws on a staff,
Would make a baby cry and laugh.
LXXXV
See a pin and pick it up,
All the day you’ll have good luck;
See a pin and let it lay,
Bad luck you’ll have all the day!
LXXXVI
Go to bed first, a golden purse;
Go to bed second, a golden pheasant;
Go to bed third, a golden bird!
LXXXVII
When the wind is in the east,
’Tis neither good for man nor beast;
When the wind is in the north,
The skilful fisher goes not forth;
When the wind is in the south,
It blows the bait in the fishes’ mouth;
When the wind is in the west,
Then ’tis at the very best.
LXXXVIII
Bounce Buckram, velvet’s dear;
Christmas comes but once a year.
LXXXIX
[One version of the following song, which I believe to be the genuine one, is written on the last leaf of MS. Harl. 6580, between the lines of a fragment of an old charter, originally used for binding the book, in a hand of the end of the seventeenth century, but unfortunately it is scarcely adapted for the “ears polite” of modern days.]
A man of words and not of deeds,
Is like a garden full of weeds;
And when the weeds begin to grow,
It’s like a garden full of snow;
And when the snow begins to fall,
It’s like a bird upon the wall;
And when the bird away does fly,
It’s like an eagle in the sky;
And when the sky begins to roar,
It’s like a lion at the door;
And when the door begins to crack,
It’s like a stick across your back;
And when your back begins to smart,
It’s like a penknife in your heart;
And when your heart begins to bleed,
You’re dead, and dead, and dead, indeed.
XC
A man of words and not of deeds,
Is like a garden full of weeds;
For when the weeds begin to grow,
Then doth the garden overflow.
XCI
If you sneeze on Monday, you sneeze for danger;
Sneeze on a Tuesday, kiss a stranger;
Sneeze on a Wednesday, sneeze for a letter;
Sneeze on a Thursday, something better;
Sneeze on a Friday, sneeze for sorrow;
Sneeze on a Saturday, see your sweetheart to-morrow.
XCII
A pullet in the pen
Is worth a hundred in the fen!
XCIII
He that would thrive
Must rise at five;
He that hath thriven
May lie till seven;
And he that by the plough would thrive,
Himself must either hold or drive.
XCIV
[The following is quoted in Miege’s ‘Great French Dictionary,’ fol. Lond. 1687, 2d part.]
A swarm of bees in May
Is worth a load of hay;
A swarm of bees in June
Is worth a silver spoon;
A swarm of bees in July
Is not worth a fly.
XCV
They that wash on Monday
Have all the week to dry;
They that wash on Tuesday
Are not so much awry;
They that wash on Wednesday
Are not so much to blame;
They that wash on Thursday,
Wash for shame;
They that wash on Friday,
Wash in need;
And they that wash on Saturday,
Oh! they’re sluts indeed.
XCVI
Needles and pins, needles and pins,
When a man marries his trouble begins.
XCVII
[In Suffolk, children are frequently reminded of the decorum due to the Sabbath by the following lines.]
Yeow mussent sing a’ Sunday,
Becaze it is a sin,
But yeow may sing a’ Monday
Till Sunday cums agin.
XCVIII
A sunshiny shower,
Won’t last half an hour.
XCIX
As the days grow longer,
The storms grow stronger.
C
As the days lengthen,
So the storms strengthen.
CI
He that goes to see his wheat in May,
Comes weeping away.
CII
The mackerel’s cry,
Is never long dry.
CIII
In July,
Some reap rye;
In August,
If one will not the other must.
CIV
[Proverbial many years ago, when the guinea in gold was of a higher value than its nominal representative in silver,]
A guinea it would sink,
And a pound it would float;
Yet I’d rather have a guinea,
Than your one pound note.
CV
For every evil under the sun,
There is a remedy, or there is none.
If there be one, try and find it;
If there be none, never mind it.
CVI
The art of good driving ’s a paradox quite,
Though custom has prov’d it so long;
If you go to the left, you’re sure to go right,
If you go to the right, you go wrong.
CVII
Friday night’s dream
On the Saturday told,
Is sure to come true,
Be it never so old.
CVIII
When the sand doth feed the clay,
England woe and well-a-day!
But when the clay doth feed the sand,
Then it is well with Angle-land.
CIX
The fair maid who, the first of May,
Goes to the fields at break of day,
And washes in dew from the hawthorn tree
Will ever after handsome be.