Episode 27 – THE World turne’d upfide down

OR A briefe defcription of the ridiculous Fafhions of thefe diftracted Times.

 

 

Command is given, we must obey, and quite forget old Christmas day:
Kill a thousand men, or a Town regain, we will give thanks and praise amain.
The wine pot shall clinke, we will feast and drinke.
And then strange motions will abound.
Yet let’s be content, and the times lament, you see the world turn’d upsife down.

The Above is an extract from The World Turn’d Upsife Down, an English ballad which was first published on a broadside in the middle of the 1640s in protest against Government policy on the commemoration of Christmas. The Parliament of the day believed the holiday should be a solemn occasion and outlawed traditional Christmas celebrations.

It is also the title of an illustrated pamphlet from 1646 and from where inspiration is drawn for the label of Episode 27.

It was important to Rick that The Liberator should, in some small way, mark the events to date of the year 2020.

Horrific bush fires in Australia, unprecedented plagues of locusts in East Africa, COVID-19… Plus, the uncertainty inflicted on the world with the perfect storm of Donald Trump, Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin. Some might add our own Boris to that list… It would be fair to say that we have the worst set of world leaders since the term ‘world leaders’ was invented.

What on earth is going happen next to planet Earth…?

Rick notes that even the bloody Grenache has turned white…

The World Turn’d Upsife Down
(To the Tune of, When the King enjoys his own again.)

Listen to me and you shall hear, news hath not been this thousand year:
Since Herod, Caesar, and many more, you never heard the like before.
Holy-dayes are despis’d, new fashions are devis’d.
Old Christmas is kickt out of Town.
Yet let’s be content, and the times lament, you see the world turn’d upsife down.

The wise men did rejoyce to see our Savior Christs Nativity:
The Angels did good tidings bring, the Sheepheards did rejoyce and sing.
Let all honest men, take example by them.
Why should we from good Laws be bound?
Yet let’s be content, and the times lament, you see the world turn’d upsife down.

Command is given, we must obey, and quite forget old Christmas day:
Kill a thousand men, or a Town regain, we will give thanks and praise amain.
The wine pot shall clinke, we will feast and drinke.
And then strange motions will abound.
Yet let’s be content, and the times lament, you see the world turn’d upsife down.

Our Lords and Knights, and Gentry too, doe mean old fashions to forgoe:
They set a porter at the gate, that none must enter in thereat.
They count it a sin, when poor people come in.
Hospitality it selfe is drown’d.
Yet let’s be content, and the times lament, you see the world turn’d upsife down.

The serving men doe sit and whine, and thinke it long ere dinner time:
The Butler’s still out of the way, or else my Lady keeps the key,
The poor old cook, in the larder doth look,
Where is no goodnesse to be found,
Yet let’s be content, and the times lament, you see the world turn’d upsife down.

To conclude, I’le tell you news that’s right, Christmas was kil’d at Naseby fight:
Charity was slain at that same time, Jack Tell troth too, a friend of mine,
Likewise then did die, rost beef and shred pie,
Pig, Goose and Capon no quarter found.
Yet let’s be content, and the times lament, you see the world turn’d upsife down.