So far in our research we have found three ballads about Palmer dating from 1856.

From the sixteenth century onwards broadside ballads, popular songs, were printed on one side of a single sheet of paper and sold to the public by street sellers for a penny or half-penny. These ballads provided cheap lyrics, which could be sung to popular tunes. The ballads also provided reading matter to many people who could not afford to buy books. The sheets usually had one or two 'woodcut' pictures and the verses printed on them. The woodcut pictures were often used on more than one broadside.

One of the favourite topics for the ballads was the execution of criminals. Up until June 2001 we have found three ballads and three criminal broadsides which are dedicated to William Palmer.

A Broadside Ballad entitled
"Life and Trial of Palmer"
by David D. Cooper (sold at Palmer's execution)
From 'The Lessons of the Scaffold' page 111 - Allen Lane 1874.
(Click above link to view the original ballad which is also found on the Bodliean Library web site)

Oh listen unto William Palmer
Who does in anguish sore bewail
Now guilty they at last have found me
And sent me back to Stafford Jail.
Every one appears against me.
Every person does me hate,
What excitement is impending
On guilty William Palmer's fate,

CHORUS
My trial causes great excitement,
In town and country everywhere.
Now guilty found is William Palmer,
Of Rugeley town in Staffordshire

Many years I was a sportsman,
Many wondrous deeds I've done
Many a race I have attended
Many thousands lost and won.
They say I poisoned my wife's mother
And took away her precious life
And dear poor Cook and my own brother,
And poisoned my own lawful wife.

Everything looks black against me
That I really must confess
The very thought that does oppress me
Causes me pain and distress,
Now the jury did convict me
And prove I did commit the deed
And sentence passed on William Palmer
To Stafford I was sent with speed

In Rugely I was once respected      (Rugeley mispelt on original)
A gentleman lived at my ease
With noblemen I was connected
And sporting men of all degrees
Although a doctor no one knew me
To do anything amiss
Now everyone strives to undo me
I never thought I'd come to this.

Dreadful is my situation.
Before the awful bar I stand
I might have filled a noble station
Unfortunate unhappy man
Infants yet unborn will mention
When to manhood they appear
The name of Doctor William Palmer
Of Rugeley town in Staffordshire.

Will no one sympathise with Palmer
Who every charge did strong deny
You are all aware I am found guilty
For by jury I've been tried
My situation makes me tremble
I am borne down with grief and care.
All conversation is of Palmer
Of Rugeley town in Staffordshire.

Ballad No 2 entitled
"Lamentation and Confession of Palmer"
(Click above link to view the original ballad which was found on the Bodliean Library web site)
Rial, Printer Monmouth-court, 7 Dials.
(This is A. Rial and Co. Printers, London)

In Rugeley town I was born and reared,
All in the County of Staffordshire,
Where I must die full of youth and bloom,
At Stafford, on the fourteenth of June.
Tens of thousands approached to see,
William Palmer die on the dismal tree.

From Stafford town they did me convey,
To the Gaol of Newgate without delay.
Where twelve long days did my trial last,
At length the sentence on me was passed.

They summoned witnesses from far and near
The evidence against me was clear,
And they was determined I well could see,
That I should die on the fatal tree.

When tried and sentenced they sent me down
A malefactor to Stafford town;
I caused my family much grief and pain,
They sent petitions but t'was all in vain.

They was determined my days should end,
They swore I poisoned my only friend,
They said I murdered John Parsons Cook,
Then stole his wealth and his betting book.

Farewell my mother, oh! A last adieu,
Oh what disgrace I have brought on you,
My own kind brother and sisters dear,
And all relations in Staffordshire.

Good bye my dearest, my lovely boy,
Did a wicked father your hopes destroy?
None shall upbraid you for what I've done,
My ever sweet little orphan son.

You have no father or mother now,
My conscience smites me I can't tell how,
Oh God forgive me for what I've done,
And be a father to my darling son.

Where is my father? the child did say,
From his little boy he's gone away,
He little thought sweet and tender lamb,
His father died on the scaffold stand.

This is the morning, the awful time,
When I must die, aged twenty nine,
And while my bones in the grave do rot,
The name of Palmer will ne'er be forgot.

My friends strove hard, but could not save,
I see the hangman, I view my grave.
In the prime of life, vigour, health and bloom,
They have hurried Palmer to his silent tomb.

My time is come, I am doomed to go,
My glass is run from this earth below,
My guilty soul speedily takes it flight,
Here's the end of Palmer, what a dreadful sight.

Ballad No 3 entitled
"Palmer's Farewell to the Turf"
(Click above link to view the original ballad which was found on the Bodliean Library web site)

Farewell ye sporting young men,
Who spend your money free,
Give over all your gambling,
And a warning take by me.

Farewell to every race course,
In England's happy land,
On you I've spent my happy days,
Among the sporting band.

For now into this prison strong,
In fetters I do lie,
Confined into a dungeon dark,
By men condemned to die.

My sisters and my brothers all,
I must bid you adieu,
For this it is the last time
That ever I'll see you.

I wish that my burialday,
My birthday it had been,
And wrapt into my winding sheet,
And ne'er this grief had seen.

Farewell my darling Mother,
My heart will break in two,
When I think on the great disgrace,
That I have brought on you.

I have brought your grey hairs,
To the grave in sorrow and shame,
But pray for mercy unto me
Through that all sacred name.

Farewell my dear and only boy
I must leave you all alone,
May Heaven be your protection
When I am dead and gone,

And cruel men upbraid you
With my murders and my crimes
I hope we'll meet in yonder world
In happy blissful climes.

Your mother dear lies in her grave
It makes my heart to bleed,
When I think on her gentle spirit,
And on the murderous deed.

I loved her dear, yet for the sake,
Of thirteen thousand pound,
To pay my debts of honour,
I laid her in the ground.

And Walter, too, my brother dear,
And Cook my faithful friend,
Which has brought me to this fatal day
And this untimely end.

Farewell world - friends - and foes,
No more of you I'll see,
For now I'm sentenced to be hung
Upon the gallows tree,

Farewell to Rugeley's pleasant town,
You will tell in future time,
Of crimes of William Palmer
Who poisoned by strychnine.

See also Broadside poetry.