Musa Pedestris - Three Centuries of Canting Songs and Slang Rhymes [1536 - 1896]

In Short

This volume serves as a comprehensive anthology of "canting"—the specialized, often secretive slang used by thieves, beggars, and street performers across three centuries of English history. By gathering ballads, drinking songs, and rhyming slangs, the work documents a subculture operating beneath the notice of polite society. More than just a linguistic curiosity, it functions as an archival record of the desperate humor, criminal camaraderie, and stark realities of life on the margins, bridging the gap between the rogue’s cant of the Elizabethan age and the urban costermonger songs of 1896.

The Story

The collection begins with the raw, conspiratorial language of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, where the "canting crew" used a secret tongue to protect their movements and identify their own. These early pieces, such as the works of Thomas Dekker, depict a world where the road and the alehouse are the only sanctuary. The narrative arc of these songs is consistently one of precarious survival, focusing on the "maunder" (beggar) or the "high pad" (highwayman) who survives by his wits and a sharp blade.

As the centuries progress, the tone shifts from the secretive to the performative. By the eighteenth century, the songs begin to reflect the spectacle of crime. The ballads detail the christenings of children born into the slums and the grim, ironic festivities surrounding public executions. The "Tyburn" gallows become a recurring backdrop, treated with a strange, dark irreverence. The figures here are no longer merely hiding; they are living out loud, mocking the authorities, and finding community in the taverns where they "fence" their stolen goods.

In the nineteenth century, the scope expands to include the "Fancy"—the culture of prizefighting and the gritty, bustling life of the London streets. The songs become more complex, influenced by the theater and the music hall. We see the rise of the "coster" (costermonger), whose songs reflect a sentimental, albeit rough-edged, domesticity. These characters are no longer just outlaws; they are street-level entrepreneurs, navigating poverty with a sense of style and stubborn pride.

The collection concludes as the nineteenth century wanes, showing how the once-secret language of the criminal class had bled into the wider culture. The final entries feature the artful, stylized vernacular of poets and entertainers who romanticized the "slums" for a middle-class audience. What began as a vital, necessary tool for navigating a hostile world ends as a celebrated piece of urban folklore. The final movement is one of reflection, as the voices of the past—the "culls" and "blowens" of old—are surveyed from a distance, their lives transformed into legends and, ultimately, into the scholarly notes of a collector who seeks to preserve the fading echoes of a language that once defined the life of the streets.

How It Unfolds

The secret tongue The opening sequence establishes the foundational vocabulary of the canting crew, where thieves and beggars use coded language to organize their activities. These early texts emphasize the necessity of the "ken" or alehouse as a headquarters for planning and evasion.

The shadow of the gallows As the middle chapters unfold, the focus shifts to the grim reality of the criminal path, specifically the inevitable encounter with the "nubbing cheat" or gallows. The songs move from tales of successful theft to dark, melancholic reflections on those who have been "scragged" or transported.

The culture of the ring The middle section introduces the "Fancy," shifting the tension toward the violence and honor of the boxing ring. The narrative here captures the intense physical struggle of the "milling match," where status is earned through endurance and the ability to "hammer" an opponent.

The urban streetscape In the later stages, the focus narrows to the bustling, noisy life of the London costermonger and the music hall performer. The language grows more familiar and sentimental, reflecting the shift from the rural vagabond to the permanent urban resident.

The final retrospective The book closes with a series of literary reflections that look back upon the lives of the "culls" from a century prior. By the end, the raw, functional slang of the criminal class is processed through the lens of late-Victorian nostalgia, cementing the legacy of a disappearing subculture.

The People

At the heart of these verses is the "maunder," the professional beggar who seeks to maintain a precarious existence while navigating the constant threat of the "beak" or magistrate. These figures represent the classic rogue, defined by their ability to "stall off" authority and maintain their freedom. Contrasting them is the "high pad," the highwayman who views himself as a gentleman of the road; he is driven by a romanticized sense of adventure, often meeting his end with a stoic, if grim, humor.

The women—frequently referred to as "dells," "morts," or "blowens"—are central to the emotional landscape of the book. They are rarely passive; they are active participants in the "prigging lay," often serving as the primary wit and emotional anchor in the lives of the thieves. Their desires are grounded in the immediate: a bit of food, a drop of "gatter" (beer), and the company of their "pals."

Finally, the "coster" emerges in the late nineteenth-century entries as a distinct, evolving archetype. He is a man of the street, proud of his "donkey shay" and his "pearlies," and deeply concerned with his standing among his peers. Unlike the solitary outlaws of the past, he is a creature of community and performance, ending his story not in a prison cell, but in the spotlight of the music hall, still singing of his "Arriet" and the simple joys of a life lived in the public eye.

In Its Own Voice

"Bing out, bien Morts, and toure, and toure, For all your Duds are bingd awaste."

This line, taken from a seventeenth-century ballad, serves as a call to arms for the "good women" of the underworld to abandon their post because their clothes have been stolen and the authority figure has been tipped off.

"I pattered in flash like a covey knowing, 'Ay, bub or grubby, I say?'"

This snippet from a nineteenth-century thief's song demonstrates how a pickpocket would use the slang-heavy "flash" language to strike up a casual, deceptively innocent conversation with a mark.

What It's Really About

This book is a study in the persistence of linguistic identity. It argues that slang is not merely a corruption of standard language, but a deliberate, creative act of resistance by those held outside the protections of the law. The recurring questions center on the price of freedom and the nature of community under duress. By documenting how these groups named their tools, their enemies, and their joys, the work highlights a fundamental human drive to define one's own world, even when that world is restricted to the "darkmans" of an alley or the "stone jug" of a prison cell.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in the evolution of English, social history, or the darker side of literature will find this an essential, if challenging, primary source. It is not a polished narrative; it is an unfiltered look at the grit of the past. The dialect is thick and often impenetrable without the provided notes, and the casual brutality toward the "cullies" and the dismissive treatment of women reflect the harsh attitudes of the era. However, the reward for the reader is a visceral connection to a forgotten voice. There is a strange, jarring beauty in these songs—they are the cries of people who, despite being marginalized, insisted on being heard. To read them is to witness the ingenuity of survival, and you will likely find yourself haunted by the rhythmic, defiant, and deeply human expressions of those who lived entirely on their own terms.