THE BUCKLAND SHAG SONGBOOK - Perth Morris Men

THE BUCKLAND SHAG 

SONGBOOK 

A COMPILATION OF FOLKSONGS 

COLLECTED BY 

THE BUCKLAND SHAG MORRIS MEN 

2 nd Edition 

Reigate 

May 2007

They strike up the Devil's Dance 

withall; then martch this heathen 

company towards the church and 

churchyards, their pypers pyping, 

the drummers thundering, their 

stumpes dancing, their belles 

jyngling, their handkercheefes 

fluttering about their heads like 

madde men. 

Philip Stubbes, Anatomie of Abuses 1583 

The Buckland Shag Morris Men 

A Dancing Tradition since 1987 

2

Contents 

A Week Before Easter................................................6 

A-Roving........................................................................7 

Abroad and for Pleasure 

(The Holmfirth Anthem).................................8 

Adieu Sweet Lovely Nancy .....................................9 

Admiral Benbow.......................................................10 

Away With All Wine-Drinkers................................11 

Blow The Man Down...............................................12 

Brave Lord Willoughby...........................................13 

Chastity Belt...............................................................14 

Claudy Banks.............................................................16 

Cold Blows The Wind..............................................17 

Farmer’s Anthem......................................................18 

Fathom The Bowl.....................................................19 

General Taylor...........................................................20 

Good Ale......................................................................21 

Hard Times Of Old England..................................22 

Hauling And Shaking The Nets............................23 

Hearts Of Oak............................................................24 

Herring Fishing.........................................................25 

I Cannot Eate But Lytle Meate,.............................28 

John Barleycorn........................................................30 

Jolly Fellows That Follow The Plough...............32 

Little Boy Billee.........................................................33 

Londonderry Air.......................................................34 

Lord of The Dance...................................................35 

May Morning Song 

(Serious Version)............................................36 

No John No................................................................38 

On Sussex Hills Where I Was Bred......................39 

Pit Boots On...............................................................40 

Pleasant And Delightful..........................................41 

Rambling Comber....................................................42 

Ricketty-Ticketty-Tin................................................43 

Roll, Alabama, Roll...................................................44 

Seamen Bold..............................................................45 

Sheep-Shearing Song..............................................46 

Spanish Ladies..........................................................47 

Spotted Cow...............................................................48 

Streets of Forbes.......................................................49 

The Black Velvet Band............................................50 

The Blacksmith..........................................................51 



3

The Blind Man He Can See....................................52 

The Elements.............................................................54 

The English................................................................55 

The Jovial Tradesmen 

(Jones’s Ale).....................................................57 

The Mermaid..............................................................58 

The Mole-Catcher's Song........................................59 

The Oak And The Ash.............................................61 

The Pirates' Christmas.............................................62 

The Salvation Army..................................................63 

The Wild Colonial Boy.............................................65 

The Wraggle-Taggle Gypsies................................66 

There Lived a Maid in Amsterdam......................67 

There Was an Old Man on a Farm......................69 

To Young Brethren..................................................70 

Turmut Hoeing..........................................................71 

Two Constant Lovers...............................................72 

Up Jumped The Herring........................................73 

Waltzing Matilda......................................................74 

We'll Drink To The Downfall Of Tyrants............75 

Weary Whaling Ground..........................................76 

Wey-Hey, Me Maties.................................................77 

Whip Jamboree.........................................................78 

Whiskey In The Jar .................................................79 

Wild Rover..................................................................81 

William Brown 

(Keep That Wheel a-Turning)....................82 

Wop She Ad It-Io.......................................................83 

Workers' Song...........................................................84 


(less serious version)....................................85 

Old Rover....................................................................87 

Daybreak.....................................................................88 

The Buckland Shag Morris Men..........................89 

Heaven On Earth.......................................................90 

September Morn.......................................................91 

It's a Funny Old World............................................92 

40 Winks......................................................................93 

Lunar-Lit Verse..........................................................94 

The Boundary Path..................................................95 

Counting Time...........................................................96 

Dreams of a Countryman.......................................97 

Turmoil........................................................................98 

Twelve Line Blues....................................................99 



4

Aprils Eve..................................................................100 

Blackthorn Winter..................................................101 

Lest We Forget........................................................102 

Midsummer Morning............................................103 

The Next Evening...................................................104 

The Sixpence Song................................................105 

The Green Hills of Home......................................106 

Country Ways..........................................................107 

Hiding Nowhere.....................................................108 

Green Lanes Forever.............................................109 

Springing to Life....................................................110 

Moderation...............................................................111 

Wealden field..........................................................112 

Where Have You Been?.........................................113 

9:00 pm And All's Well..........................................114 

Adieu!.........................................................................115 

Just a Mo(nu)ment.................................................116 

The Isle Of Purbeck...............................................118 



5

A Week Before Easter 

Now a week before Easter, the morn bright and clear, 

The sun it shone brightly and keen blew the air. 

I went up in the forest to gather fine flowers, 

But the forest won't yield me no roses. 

The roses are red, the leaves they are green, 

The bushes and briars are pleasant to be seen, 

Where the small birds are singing and changing their notes, 

Down among the wild beasts in the forest. 

Now the first time I saw my love she was dressed all in white, 

Made my eyes run and water quite dazzled my sight, 

When I thought to myself that I might have been that man 

But she's left me and gone with another. 

Now the next time I saw my love she was in the church stand 

With a ring on her finger and a glove in her hand. 

So now she's gone from me and showed me false play, 

She's gone and got tied to some other. 

So dig me a grave both long wide and deep 

And strew it all over with roses so sweet, 

That I might lay down there and take a long sleep 

And that's the right way to forget her. 



6

A-Roving 

At number three, old England square, 

Mark well what I do say, 

At number three, old England square 

My Nancy Dawson she lived there, 

I'll go no more a rovin' with you, fair maid. 

A-rovin', a-rovin', since rovin's been my ruin, 

I'll go no more a-rovin' with you fair maid. 

My Nancy Dawson she lived there, 


She was a lass surprising fair, 

She's bright blue eyes and golden hair, 




I met her first when home from sea, 


Home from the coast of Africkee, 

With pockets lined with good monee, 




O didn't I tell her stories true, 


And didn't I tell her whoppers too, 

Of the gold we found in Timbuctoo, 




But when we'd spent my hard-earned screw, 


And all the gold from Timbuctoo, 

She cut her stick and vanished too, 






7

Abroad and for Pleasure 

(The Holmfirth Anthem) 

Abroad and for pleasure as I was a-walking, 

it was on a sunny summer's evening clear. 



There I beheld a most beautiful damsel, 

Lamenting for her shepherd swain, 

lamenting for her shepherd swain. 

The dearest evening that e'er I beheld thee, 

ever more with the lad I adore, 

The dearest evening that e'er I beheld thee, 

ever more with the lad I adore, 

Wilt thou go fight yon French and Spaniards, 

Wilt thou leave me thus, my dear? 

Wilt thou leave me thus, my dear? 

No more to yon green banks will I take thee, 

with pleasure for to rest myself and view the lambs, 

No more to yon green banks will I take thee, 

with pleasure for to rest myself and view the lambs, 

But I will take thee to some green garden, 

Where the pretty flowers grow, 

Where the pretty flowers grow. 





There I beheld a most beautiful damsel, 

Lamenting for her shepherd swain, 

lamenting for her shepherd swain. 



8

Adieu Sweet Lovely Nancy 

Here's adieu, sweet lovely Nancy, ten thousand times adieu: 

I'm a-going round the ocean love, to seek for something new. 

Come change your ring with me dear girl, come change your ring with me, 

For it might be a token of our true love while I am on the sea. 

When I am far upon the sea, you know not where I am; 

Kind letters I will write to you, from every foreign land. 

The secrets of your heart, dear girl, are the best of my good will, 

So let your body be where it might, my heart shall be with you still. 

There's a heavy storm a-rising, see how it gathers round, 

While we poor souls on the ocean wide are fighting for the Crown. 

There's nothing to protect us, love, or keep us from the cold, 

On the ocean wide, where we must bide, like jolly seamen bold. 

There are tinkers, tailors and shoemakers lie snoring fast asleep, 

While we poor souls on the ocean wide are ploughing through the deep. 

Our officer's commanding us, and them we must obey, 

Expecting every moment for to get cast away. 

So when the wars are over, there'll be peace on every shore. 

We'll return to our wives and our families, and the girls that we adore. 

We'll call for liquor merrily, we'll spend our money free, 

And when our money is all gone, we'll boldly go back to sea. 



9

Admiral Benbow 

Come all you seamen bold, landed here, landed here, 

It is of an admiral brave, called Benbow by his name, 

How he ploughed the raging main, 

You shall hear, you shall hear. 

Last Tuesday morning last, Benbow sailed, Benbow sailed, 

What a fine and pleasant gale when Benbow he set sail, 

And his captains they turned tail, 

In a fright, in a fright. 

Both Reuben and Benbow fought the French, fought the French, 

They fought them up and down, till the blood came trickling down, 

Till the blood came trickling down, 

Where they lay, where they lay. 

Brave Benbow lost his legs, by chain shot, by chain shot, 

Brave Benbow lost his legs, and all on his stumps he begs, 

Fight on me English lads, 

Tis our lot, tis our lot. 

The surgeon dressed his wounds, cried Benbow, cried Benbow, 

Let a cradle now be placed on the quarter deck in haste, 

That the enemy I may face, 

Until I die, until I die. 

And there brave Benbow lay, crying out, crying out, 

Let us tack about once more, we will drive them to the shore, 

For I value not their noise, 

Nor the score, nor the score. 

Last Tuesday morning last, Benbow died, Benbow died, 

What a shocking sight to see, when they carried him away, 

They carried him to Selmeston church, 

And there he lays, there he lays. 



10

Away With All Wine-Drinkers 

Away with all wine-drinkers, and such new-fangled thinkers, 

And may they still be shrinkers from all good men and true. 

Thus said the jovial man of Kent, as through his golden hops he went, 

With sturdy limb and brow unbent, 

When autumn skies were blue above, 

When autumn skies were blue. 

The hop that swings so lightly, the hop that glows so brightly, 

Will sure be honoured rightly by all good men and true. 

Let Frenchmen boast their straggly vine, which gives them draughts of mead or 

wine, 

It cannot match this plant of mine, 



When winter snows are falling, and winter winds are brawling, 

For nut-brown ale I'm calling all honest men and true. 

And when the merry song is sung, and logs upon the fire are flung, 

They'll think about the hop that swung 





11

Blow The Man Down 

As I was a-walking down Paradise Street, 

With a wey-hey blow the man down, 

A pretty young lady I chanced for to meet, 

Give me some time to blow the man down. 

This pretty young lady she said unto me 

Wey-hey blow the man down, 

There's a fine full-rigged clipper just ready for sea, 


This fine full-rigged clipper for Sydney was bound, 


She was very well manned, she was very well found, 


As soon as the clipper was clear of the bar, 


The mate knocked me down with the end of a spar, 


As soon as the clipper had got out to sea, 


I had hard cruel treatment of every degree, 


Now come all you young sailors afore ye belay, 


Don't ever take heed of what pretty girls say, 




12

Brave Lord Willoughby 

The 14th. day of July, with glistering spear and shield 

A famous fight in Flanders was foughten in the field. 

The most courageous officers were English captains three, 

But the bravest man in battle was brave Lord Willoughby. 

The next was Captain Norris a valiant man was he; 

The other Captain Turner, that from field would never flee; 

With fifteen hundred fighting men, alas there were no more, 

They fought with fourteen thousand men upon the Flanders shore. 

Stand to it noble pikemen, and look you round about, 

And shoot you straight you bowmen, and we will keep them out. 

You musket and caleever men, do you prove true to me: 

I'll be the foremost man in fight, said brave Lord Willoughby. 

The sharply pointed arrows and bullets they did fly, 

And did our valiant soldiers charge on most furiously, 

Which made the Spaniards waver, they thought it best to flee: 

They feared the stout behaviour of brave Lord Willoughby. 

Then quoth the Spanish general "come let us march away. 

I fear we shall be spoiled all if that we longer stay. 

For yonder comes Lord Willoughby with courage fierce and fell; 

He will not give one inch of way for all the devils in hell. 

And then the fearful enemy was quickly put to flight. 

Our men pursued courageously and rout their forces quite, 

Till at the last they gave a shout which echoed through the sky: 

"God and St. George for England", the conquerors did cry. 

For soldiers that were maimed or wounded in the fray, 

The Queen allowed a pension of eighteen pence a day. 

And from all costs and charges she quit and set them free, 

And this she did all for the sake of brave Lord Willoughby. 

Then courage noble Englishmen and never be dismayed 

If that we be but one to ten, we will not be afraid 

To fight with foreign enemies and set our nation free, 

And thus I end the famous vow of brave Lord Willoughby. 



13

Chastity Belt 

Say, pretty maiden, will you be my lover, 

Cause me no more to sigh and to weep, 

If you are willing, then let down your drawbridge, 

And suffer a poor knight to enter your keep. 

Enter your keep, Noddy, Noddy, 

Enter your keep, Noddy, Noddy, 

Suffer a poor knight to enter your keep. 

Alas, gentle errant, to help I'm unable, 

I'm married to Ostwald the cunning old Celt, 

He's gone to the wars for twelvemonth or longer, 

And taken the key to my chastity belt. 

Chastity belt, Noddy, Noddy 

Chastity belt, Noddy, Noddy 

Taken the key to my chastity belt. 

Come pretty maiden, we'll go to a locksmith, 

With his specialist knowledge our problem he'll mock: 

We'll see if he's able with his keys and his learning, 

To find us a key that will open your lock. 

Open your lock, Noddy, Noddy, 

Open your lock, Noddy, Noddy, 

Find us a key that will open your lock. 

Alas, gentle people, to help I'm unable, 

My specialist knowledge is to no avail: 

I can't find the key for your combination, 

The cunning old Celt he has fitted a Yale....... 

Fitted a Yale, Noddy, Noddy, 

Fitted a Yale, Noddy, Noddy, 

The cunning old Celt he has fitted a Yale. 

I'm back from the wars with news of disaster, 

Prepare for the worst as my tale I confide: 

As we were sailing the straights of Gibraltar, 

I carelessly dropped your key over the side. 

Over the side, Noddy, Noddy, 

Over the side, Noddy, Noddy, 

Carelessly dropped your key over the side. 

Alas and alack I am locked up for ever, 

When up jumped a pageboy, said leave it to me 

If you'll permit me to enter your chamber, 

I'll open you up with my duplicate key 

Duplicate key, Noddy, Noddy, 

Duplicate key, Noddy, Noddy, 



14

Open you up with my duplicate key. 



15

Claudy Banks 

Twas on one summer's evening all in the month of May. 

Down by a flow'ry garden where Betsy did stray. 

I overheard a damsel in sorrow to complain, 

All for her absent lover that ploughs the raging main. 

I stepped up to this fair maid and put her in surprise, 

She owned she did not know me, I being all in disguise. 

I said My charming creature, my joy and heart's delight, 

How far have you to travel this dark and rainy night? 

Away, kind sir, to the Claudy banks if you will please to show, 

Pity a poor girl distracted for there I have to go. 

I am in search of a young man, and Johnny is his name, 

And on the banks of Claudy I'm told he does remain. 

If Johnny he was here this night he would keep me from all harm. 

He's a cruising the wide ocean in tempest and in storm, 

He's a cruising the wide ocean for honour or for gain, 

But I'm told his ship got wreck-ed all on the coast of Spain. 

When Betsy heard this dreadful news she fell into despair, 

In a-wringing of her hands and a-tearing of her hair. 

Since Johnny has gone and left me no man on earth I'll take, 

Down in some lonesome valley I'll wander for his sake. 

Young Johnny hearing her say so he could no longer stand, 

He fell into her arms crying Betsy I'm the man, 

I am that faithful young man and whom you thought was slain, 

And since we met on Claudy banks we'll never part again. 



16

Cold Blows The Wind 

Cold blows the rain o'er my true love, 

And gently drives the rain, 

I only had but one true love, 

And in Greenwood she lies slain. 

I'll do as much for my true love 

As any young man may, 

I'll sit and weep all on her grave 

For twelve months and a day. 

When twelve months and one day were gone, 

The ghost began to speak: 

Why sittest here all on my grave, 

And will not let me sleep. 

There's one thing that I want sweetheart, 

There's one thing that I crave, 

And that is a kiss from your lillywhite lips, 

Then I'll go from your grave. 

My lips they are as cold as clay, 

My breath smells earthy strong, 

And if you kiss my cold grey lips, 

Your days they won' be long. 

Go fetch me water from the desert, 

And blood from out a stone, 

Go fetch me milk from a fair maid's breast 

That a young man never has known. 

"Twas down in Cupid's garden 

Where you and I would walk, 

The finest flower that ever I saw 

Is withered to a stalk. 

The stalk is withered and dry, sweetheart, 

The flower will ne'er return, 

And since I lost my own true love 

What can I do but mourn. 



17

Farmer’s Anthem 

Come all jolly fellows who delight in being mellow, 

Attend to my tale I beseech you. 

For a pint when it’s quiet, come lads let us try it, 

For it’s thinking will drive a man crazy. 

I have lawns, I have bowers, I have fields, I have flowers 

And the lark is my morning alarmer. 

So jolly boys now here’s god speed the plough, 

Long life and success to the farmer. 

Come sit at my table all those who are able 

And I’ll hear not one word of complaining. 

For the tinkling of glasses all music surpasses, 

And I long to hear bottles a-draining. 





For here I am king, I can laugh, drink and sing 

And let no man approach as a stranger. 

Just show me the ass who refuses a glass 

And I’ll treat him to hay in the manger 





Let the wealthy and great lie in splendour and state. 

I envy them not, I declare it 

For I eat my own lamb, my chicken and ham, 

I shear my own fleece and I wear it 







18

Fathom The Bowl 

Come all you bold heroes, give an ear to my song, 

And I'll sing you the praise of good brandy and rum. 

There's a clear crystal fountain o'er England do roll, 

Give me the punch ladle, I'll fathom the bowl, 

I'll fathom the bowl, I'll fathom the bowl, 

Give me the punch ladle, I'll fathom the bowl. 

From France we do get brandy, from Jamaica comes rum, 

Sweet oranges and lemons from Portugal come, 

But strong beer and cider are England's control, 




My wife, she do disturb me, as I lie at my ease, 

She's as cold as you like, and she does as she please, 

My wife, she's a devil, she's black as the coal, 




My father he do lie in the depths of the sea, 

Cold rocks for his pillow, but what matter to he, 

For there's a clear crystal fountain that o'er him do roll, 






19

General Taylor 

General Taylor gained the day, walk him along, John, carry him along, 

General Taylor gained the day, carry him to his burying ground. 

Wey, hey, it's stormy, walk him along, John, carry him along, 

Wey hey, it's stormy, carry him to his burying ground. 

General Taylor's dead and gone, walk him along, John, carry him along, 

General Taylor's dead and gone, carry him to his burying ground. 



We dug his grave with a silver spade, walk him along, John, carry him along, 

We made sure he would rise up again, carry him to his burying ground. 



We lowered him down with a silver chain, walk him along, John, carry him 

along, 

At every link, we shouted his name, carry him to his burying ground. 



I wish I was General Taylor's son, walk him along, John, carry him along, 

I'd build me a ship of ten thousand tons, carry him to his burying ground. 



And I'd fill that old ship with you English boys, walk him along, John, carry him 

along, 

I'd drink a toast to everyone, carry him to his burying ground. 





20

Good Ale 

It is of good ale to you I'll sing, 

And to good ale I'll always cling. 

I like my mug filled to the brim, 

And I'll drink all you'd care to bring. 

Good ale, thou art my darling, 

Thou art my joy, both night and morning. 

It is you that helps me with my work, 

And from a task I'll never shirk 

While I can get a good home brew, 

And better than one pint I like two. 



I love you in the early morn, 

I love you in daylight, dark or dawn, 

And when I'm weary, worn or spent 

I'll turn the tap and ease the vent. 



It is you that makes my friends my foes, 

It is you that makes me wear old clothes, 

But since you come so near my nose 

It's up you comes and down you goes. 



And if all my friends from Adam's race 

Was to meet me here all in this place, 

I could part from all without one fear 

Before I'd part with my good beer. 





21

Hard Times Of Old England 

Come all brother tradesmen that travel alone, 

O pray, come and tell me where the trade is all gone. 

Long time I have travelled and cannot find none, 

And it's Oh, the hard times of old England, 

In old England, very hard times. 

Provisions you buy at the shop, it is true, 

But if you've no money there's none there for you. 

So what's a poor man and his family to do, 



If you go to a shop and you ask for a job, 

They will answer you there with a shake and a nod. 

That's enough to make a poor man to turn out and rob, 



You will see the poor tradesmen a-walking the street, 

From morning to night for employment to seek. 

And scarcely they have any shoes on their feet, 



Our soldiers and sailors have just come from war, 

Been fighting for their King and country sure, 

Come home to be starved: should have stayed where they were, 



And now to conclude and to finish my song, 

Let us hope that these hard times they will not last long, 

And soon I’ll have occasion to alter my song, 

And sing Oh, the good times of old England, 

In old England, very good times. 



22

Hauling And Shaking The Nets 

It's busky me lads, get you up on the deck, 

And take up your stations for hauling the nets, 

And mind you pull together boys, all through the night, 

And sweat in your oilskins until it's daylight, 

With heaving and hauling and shaking the nets. 

It's when we start hauling we're living in hope, 

The boys in the locker, the lads on the rope, 

And the fellows in the hold who are pulling the nets, 

And shaking the herring out on the decks, 


It's net after net is pulled up from the sea, 

With a hauling and shaking a one, two and three, 

And the herring are piling around your sea-boots, 

And slithering and sliding down into the shutes, 


It's hour after hour that we're hauling away, 

All through the long night till the dawn of the day, 

The skipper's in the wheel-house, he's on the RT, 

And the cook's in the galley, a-brewing the tea, 


The season is over, so be on your way, 

And head for the home port and sign for your pay, 

Your missus is waiting to welcome you home, 

It's hard for a wife to be so much alone. 




23

Hearts Of Oak 

Come cheer up me lads, 'tis to glory we steer, 

To add something more to this wonderful year, 

To honour we call you, as free men not slaves, 

For who are so free as the sons of the waves? 

Hearts of oak are our ships, jolly tars are our men, 

We always are ready. Steady, boys, steady, 

We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again. 

We ne'er see our foes b ut we wish them to stay; 

They never see us b ut they wish us away. 

If they run, why, we follow, and run them ashore, 

For if they won't fight us, what can we do more? 




We'll still make them fear, and we'll still make them flee, 

And drub 'em on shore, as we've drubbed them at sea; 

Then cheer up me lads, with one heart let us sing, 

Our soldiers, our sailors, our statesmen and King. 






24

Herring Fishing 

First you've got to find your fish, and spot your herring shoal, 

For as long as they're still in the sea you'll never get them sold. 

So watch the diving gannet boys, and notice where he gets, 

And if you see the whale-fish blow it's time to shoot your nets. 

With a tooraladdie, wackfol laddie, 

Tooraloorallay. 

And when you've shot your nets me lads, you'll wait for time to pass, 

And keep one eye upon the clock and the other on the glass, 

For the sea is wide and deep, and the wind may blow a sudden gale, 

And take your ship and gear, and leave no one to tell the tale, 



Come on leave off this yarning, lads, for talk won't pay your debts, 

There's a good green sea for herring, and it's time to shoot your nets, 

It's time to stck them in the hold and throw them o'er the lee, 

And keep your mizzen sail up boys so she can hit the sea, 



So take it nice and steady, boys, and start to earn your pay, 

And mind that you don't shoot too soon, and scare the fish away. 

Your sow-ropes are in order, your cork lines, bobs and all, 

Here's hoping that this good night's work will earn a bumper haul, 





25

Hoppin' Down In Kent 

With a tee-aye-ay, tee-aye-ay, 

Tee-aye-ee-aye-ay. 

Now hoppin's just beginnin', 

We've got our time to spend, 

We've only come down hoppin' 

To earn a quid if we can, 



Now early Monday mornin', 

Just at six o'clock, 

You'll hear them hopper's callin', 

Get up and fill your pots, 



And early Tuesday mornin', 

The bookie he'll come round, 

With a bag of money, 

He'll flop it on the ground, 



Saying "Do you want some money?", 

"Oh, yes sir, if you please, 

To buy a hock of bacon 

And a roll of mouldy cheese", 



Here comes our old measurer, 

With his long nose and chin, 

And his ten-gallon basket, 

And don't he pop them in, 



When our old pole-puller 

He does come around, 

He says "Come on you dirty old hop pickers, 

Get 'em up all off the ground." 



Sunday is our washing day 



26

And don't we wash it clean, 

We wash it in our hoppin' pots 

And hang it on the green. 



Now hoppin' is all over, 

And al our money spent, 

And don't I wish I'd never done 

No hoppin' down in Kent, 



I say one, I say two, 

No more hoppin' will I do, 





27

I Cannot Eate But Lytle Meate, 

My stomacke is not good, 

But sure I thinke that I can drinke 

With him that weares a hood. 

Though I go bare, take ye no care, 

I nothing am a colde, 

I stuff my skyn so full within, 

Of joly good milde and olde. 

Backe and syde go bare, go bare, 

Booth foote and hand go colde, 

But belly, God send thee good ale ynoughe 

Whether it be new or olde. 

I have no rost, but a nut brawne toste, 

And a crab laid in the fyre; 

A little breade shall do me steade, 

Much breade I not desyre. 

No frost nor snow, nor winde, I trowe, 

Can hurte mee, if I wolde, 

I am so wrapt and throwly lapt 

Of joly good milde and olde. 





And Tyb my wife, that, as her lyfe, 

Loveth well good ale to seeke, 

Full oft drynkes shee, tyll ye may see, 

The teares run downe her cheeke. 

Then doth she trowle to me the bowle, 

Even as a mault-worme sholde, 

And sayth, sweete harte, I took my parte 

Of this joly good milde and olde. 





Now let them drynke, tyll they nod and winke, 

Even as goode fellowes sholde doe, 

They shall not mysse to have the blisse, 

Good ale doth bring men to; 

And all poore soules that have scowred bowles, 

Or have them lustily trolde, 

God save the lyves of them and their wives, 

Whether they be yonge or olde. 



28





William Stevenson 1551 



29

John Barleycorn 

There were three men came out of the west 

Their fortunes for to try, 

And these three men made a solemn vow 

John Barleycorn must die. 

They've ploughed, they've sown, they've harrowed him in; 

Threw clods upon his head, 

And these three men made a solemn vow 

John Barleycorn was dead. 

They've let him lie for a very long time 

Till the rains from heaven did fall, 

And little Sir John sprung up his head 

And so amazed them all. 

They've let him stand till midsummer's day, 

Till he looks both pale and wan, 

And little Sir John's grown a long long beard 

And so become a man. 

They've hired men with their scythes so sharp 

To cut him off at the knee. 

They've rolled him and tied him by the waist 

Serving him most barbarously. 

They've hired men with their sharp pitch forks 

Who pricked him to the heart, 

And the loader he has served him worse than that 

For he's bound him to the cart. 

They've wheeled him around and around a field 

Till they came unto a barn, 

And there they made a solemn oath 

On poor John Barleycorn. 

They've hired men with their crab tree sticks 

To cut him skin from bone, 

And the miller he has served him worse than that 

For he's ground him between two stones. 

And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl, 

And he's brandy in the glass, 

And little Sir John and nut brown bowl 

Proved the strongest man at last.... 

The huntsman he can't hunt the fox, 

Nor so loudly to blow his horn; 

And the tinker he can't mend kettle nor pots 

Without a little Barleycorn. 

S Winwood 1970 after C Sharpe 1900-1910 - Came from Oxon, Surrey, Sussex, Hants, Somerset; 100- 



30

140 versions, earliest known print Pepoysian collection 1465, printed in black letter by 

H Gorson (1607-1641) 



31

Jolly Fellows That Follow The Plough 

Twas early one morning at the break of the day; 

The cocks they were crowing, and the master did say 

"Come rise my good fellows, come rise with goodwill, 

Your horses want something their bellies to fill. 

When four o'clock comes lads, then up we do rise, 

And to our old stables we merrily fly; 

With rubbing and scrubbing our horses, I'll vow 

That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough. 

When six o'clock comes lads, for breakfast we meet, 

With bread, beef and pudding we heartily eat; 

With a piece in our pocket, I'll swear and I'll vow 

That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough. 

We harness our horses and away we do go, 

We trip o'er the plains just as nimble as does; 

And when we do get there so jolly and bold, 

To see which of us a straight furrow can hold. 

Our master comes to us and this did he say: 

"What have you been doing boys, all this long day? 

If you've not ploughed your acre, I'll swear and I'll vow 

That you're damned idle fellows that follow the plough". 

I stepped up to him then, and made this reply: 

"We've all ploughed our acre, so you've told us a lie; 

We've all ploughed our acre, I'll swear and I'll vow, 

We're all jolly fellows that follow the plough". 

He turned himself round me lads, and laughed at the joke: 

"It's past two o'clock lads, and time to unyoke; 

Unharness your horses, and rub them down well, 

And I'll give you a jug of my very best ale". 

So all you brave fellows whoever you be, 

Come take this advice now, and be ruléd by me: 

Never fear your master then I'll swear and I'll vow 

That you're all jolly fellows that follow the plough". 



32

Little Boy Billee 

There were three men of Bristol City 

There were three men of Bristol City 

They stole a ship and went to sea 

They stole a ship and went to sea 

There was Gorging Jack and Guzzling Jimmy 

And also Little Boy Billee 

They stole a tin of captain's buscuits 

And one large bottle of whiskey 

But when they reached the broad Atlantic 

There was nothing left but one split pea 

Said Gorging Jack to Guzzling Jimmy 

“We've nothing to eat so I'm going to eat thee” 

Said Guzzling Jimmy “I'm old and toughest 

“So let's eat Little Boy Billee” 

"O Little Boy Billee, we're going to kill and eat yur. 

"So undo the top button of your little chemie" 

“O may I say my catechism 

“That my dear mother taught to me?” 

He climbed up to the main top-gallant 

And there he fell upon his knee 

But when he reached the Eleventh Commandment 

He cried, “Yo Ho for land I see” 

“I see Jerusalem and Madagascar 

“And North and South Amerikee” 

“I see the British fleet at anchor 

“And Admiral Nelson K.C.B” 

They hung Gorging Jack and Guzzling Jimmy 

But they made an Admiral of Little Boy Billee. 



33

Londonderry Air 

O Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling, 

From glen to glen, and down the mountain side, 

The summer's gone, and all the roses falling, 

It's you, it's you must go, and I must bide. 

But come you back when summer's in the meadow, 

Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow, 

It's here I'll be in sunshine or in shadow, 

O Danny boy, O Danny boy I love you so. 

But when ye come and all the flowers are dying, 

If I am dead, as dead I well may be, 

Ye'll come and find the place where I am lying, 

And kneel and say an Ave there for me; 

And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me, 

And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be, 

For you will bend and tell me that you love me, 

And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me. 



34

Lord of The Dance 

I danced in the morning when the world was young, 

I danced in the moon and the stars and the sun, 

I came down from heaven and I danced on earth, 

At Bethlehem I had my birth. 

Dance, dance, wherever you may be, 

I am the Lord of the Dance, said he, 

I'll lead you all wherever you may be, 

And I'll lead you all in the dance, said he. 

I danced for the scribes and the pharisees, 

But they would not dance, and they wouldn't follow me. 

I danced for the fishermen James and John, 

They followed me and the dance went on. 





I danced on the Sabbath and I healed the lame, 

The holy people said it was a shame. 

They stripped me, whipped me, and hung me high, 

And left me there on the cross to die. 





I danced on a Friday when the sky turned black, 

It's hard to dance with the devil on your back, 

They buried my body and they thought I'd gone, 

But I am the life and the dance goes on. 





They took me down and I leapt up high, 

I am the life that will never ever die, 

I'll live in you if you'll live in me, 

I am the Lord of the Dance said he. 







35


(Serious Version) 

Come sing, you men, and remember when 

We last danced in the dawn-oh: 

It was last year, when Spring was here 

And Winter had a gone-oh 

Sing hey and ho, and a-merry merry-oh 

For it is the first of May-oh. 

Now Spring is here, so lend your ear 

And join with us in singing. 

We'll take the chance to raise our dance 

And set our bells a-ringing 



We're here to greet, and stamp our feet 

This happy sunny morning. 

We're wide awake beside this lake 

While some lie in a-yawning, 



Now gather round as we beat the ground 

With our sticks, and jump together. 

We'll chase away those winter days, 

With music bring warm weather, 



Our dance is done, and dawn is gone, 

Now summer is a-coming. 

The buds will break, the bees will make 

Us happy with their humming 



We wish you well, and time may tell 

We wish you crops a-healthy. 

May your family grow, on the seeds you sow 

And make you old and wealthy 



Now off we go, row by row 

With ours bells so brightly ringing. 



36

And dance our way with a garland of May 

Through summer in old England, 



Rob Cassells, ex Buckland Shag member 



37

No John No 

On yonder hill there lives a lady, 

But her name I do not know. 

I'll go court her for her beauty, 

Whether she answers yes or no, 

No John no, no John no, no John no John no John no. 

She is a fair and handsome creature, 

And to woo her I will go, 

I will ask her if she'll be my true love, 

Will she answer yes or no, 


If when walking in the garden, 

Plucking flowers all wet with dew, 

Tell me will you be offended 

If I walk and talk with you, 


Tell me one thing, tell me truly, 

Tell me why you scorn me so? 

Tell why when asked a question 

That you always answer no, 


My father was a Spanish merchant, 

And before he went to sea, 

He told me to be sure and answer 

No to all you said to me: 


And if when walking in the garden 

I should ask you to be mine, 

If I tell you that I love you 

Would you then my heart decline? 




38

On Sussex Hills Where I Was Bred 

On Sussex hills where I was bred, 

When lanes in autumn rains are red; 

When Arun tumbles in his bed, 

And busy great gusts go by; 

When branch is bare in Burton Glen, 

And Bury Hill is a whitening, then 

I drink strong ale with gentlemen, 

Which noone can deny, deny, 

Which noone can deny. 

In half-November off I go, 

To push my face against the snow, 

And watch the winds where'er they blow, 

Because my heart is high. 

Till I settle me down in Steyning to sing, 

Of the girls I met in my wandering, 

And of all that I mean to do in spring, 



Then times be rude and weather rough, 

And ways be foul and fortune tough. 

We are of stout South Country stuff, 

That never can have good ale enough, 

And do this chorus cry. 

From Crowboro' Top to Ditchling Down, 

From Hurstpierpoint to Arundel town, 

The girls are plump and the ale is brown, 





39

Pit Boots On 

A diggin' and a pickin', as I was one day, 

The thought of my true love it led me astray. 

Well, the shift being over and the night comin' on, 

Away I run wi' me pit boots on. 

I tapped at my love's window, crying are you in bed? 

The minute that she heard me she lifted up her head. 

She lifted up her head, crying Oh is that John? 

Indeed it's me wi' me pit boots on. 

She came to the door and invited me in. 

Draw up to the fire and warm your skin. 

The bedroom door it open and the blanket it turned down, 

And I rolled into bed wi' me pit boots on. 

We tossed and we tumbled until the break of day, 

Not thinking of the hours that were passing away, 

Till my love she sat up crying Oh what have I done, 

The baby will come with its pit boots on. 

I chastised my love for talking so wild: 

You silly young girl, you will never have a child, 

For all that I done it was just a bit o' fun, 

But away I run wi' me pit boots on. 

Come all ye young girls, wherever that ye be, 

Beware of them colliers who are single and free, 

For their hearts do run light and their minds do run young, 

So look out for the fellers wi' their pit boots on. 



40

Pleasant And Delightful 

Twas pleasant and delightful one midsummer morn, 

When the fields and the meadows were covered in corn: 

The blackbirds and thrushes sang on every green spray, 

And the larks they sang melodious at the dawning of the day 

And the larks they sang melodious 



At the dawning of the day. 

A sailor and his true love were walking one day; 

Said the sailor to his true love I am bound far away: 

I'm bound for the East Indies where the loud cannons roar, 

I must go and leave you Nancy, you're the girl that I adore 

I must go and leave you Nancy, 



You're the girl that I adore. 

Then the ring from off her finger she instantly drew, 

Saying take this my dearest William and my heart will go too, 

And as he stood embracing, her tears from her eyes fell, 

Saying may I go along with you, Oh no my love, farewell 

Saying may I go along with you 

Saying may I go along with you 

Saying may I go along with you, 

Oh no, my love, farewell. 

So it's farewell dearest Nancy, I can no longer stay, 

For the topsail is hoisted and the anchor is weighed, 

And my ship it lies waiting for the next flowing tide, 

And if ever I return again, I will make you my bride, 

And if ever I return again, 



I will make you my bride. 



41

Rambling Comber 

You combers all both great and small 

Come listen to my ditty, 

For it is ye and only ye 

Regard my fall with pity, 

For I can write, read, dance and fight 

Indeed it's all my honour. 

My failing is I love strong beer, 

For I'm a rambling comber. 

It's on the tramp I'm forced to stamp, 

My shoes are all a tatter. 

My hose unbound they trail the ground, 

I seldom wears a garter, 

I have a coat scarce worth one groat, 

I sadly want for another. 

But it's oh my dear how I love strong beer, 

I am a rambling comber. 

I have no watch, I have a patch 

On both sides of my breeches. 

My hat is torn, my wig's all worn, 

My health is all my riches. 

Wilt that I had some giggling lass 

Me coat all for to border 

With straps and bows; oh I would hold those, 

I'd keep them all in order. 

A tailor's bill I seldom fill; 

I never do take measure. 

I make no debt which does me let 

In the taking of my pleasure. 

Nor ever will till I grow old 

When I must give it over. 

But then old age will me engage 

For being a rambling comber. 

So a pitcher boy I'll now employ 

While I have cash or credit. 

I'll rant and roar and I'll call for the score, 

And I'll pay them when I have it. 

For this is always on my mind let me be drunk or sober 

A bowl of punch my thirst to quench 

And a quart of Old October. 

For it's oh my dear how I love strong beer, 

I am a rambling comber. 



42

Ricketty-Ticketty-Tin 

It's of a maid I'll sing a song, sing ricketty-ticketty-tin, 

It's of a maid I'll sing a song, who didn't have her family long: 

Not only did she do them wrong, 

But she did every one of them in, them in, she did every one of them in. 

One morning in a fit of pique, sing ricketty-ticketty-tin, 

One morning in a fit of pique, she drowned her father in the creek. 

The water tasted bad for a week, 

And we had to make do with gin, with gin, we had to make do with gin. 

Her mother she could never stand, sing ricketty-ticketty-tin, 

Her mother she could never stand, and so a cyanide soup she planned. 

Her mother died with the spoon in her hand, 

And her face in a hideous grin, a grin, her face in a hideous grin. 

She set her sister's hair on fire, sing ricketty-ticketty-tin, 

She set her sister's hair on fire, and as the smoke and flames grew higher, 

She danced around the funeral pyre, 

Playing the violin, olin, playing the violin. 

She weighted her brother down with stones, sing ricketty-ticketty-tin, 

She weighted her brother down with stones, and sent him off to Davy Jones. 

And all they ever found were some bones, 

And occasional pieces of skin, of skin, and occasional pieces of skin. 

One day when she had nothing to do, sing ricketty-ticketty-tin, 

One day when she had nothing to do, she cut her baby brother in two, 

And served him up in an Irish stew, 

And invited the neighbours in, bours in, invited the neighbours in. 

And when at last the police came by, sing ricketty-ticketty-tin, 

And when at last the police came by, her little pranks she did not deny. 

To do so she would have had to lie, 

And lying she knew was a sin, a sin, and lying she knew was a sin. 

My tragic tale I won't prolong, sing ricketty-ticketty-tin, 

My tragic tale I won't prolong , and if you did not enjoy my song, 

You've yourselves to blame if it's too long: 

You should have never have let me begin, begin, you should never have let me 

begin. 



43

Roll, Alabama, Roll 

When the Alabama's keel was laid, 

Roll, Alabama, roll 

'Twas laid in the yard of Jonathan Laird, 


'Twas laid in the yard of Jonathan Laird, 


That is in the town of Birkenhead, 


Down Mersey way she sailed then, 


And Liverpool fitted her with guns and men, 


Down Mersey way she sailed forth, 


To destroy the commerce of the north, 


To Cherbourg port she sailed one day, 


To collect her dues in prize money, 


Then many a sailor saw his doom, 


When the Kearsage she hove in view, 


A shot from the forward cannon that day, 


Shot the Alabama's bows away, 


Off the three-mile limit in '65, 


The Alabama went to her grave, 




44

Seamen Bold 

You seamen bold that plough the ocean know dangers landsmen never know, 

The sun goes down with an equal motion no tongue can tell what you undergo. 

In dreadful storm, in dread of battle there are no back doors to run away 

While thund'ring cannon loudly rattle, mark well what happened the other day. 

A merchant ship long time had sail-ed, long time being captive out at sea. 

The weather proved so unsettled which brought them to extremity. 

Nothing on board, poor souls, to cherish nor could step one foot on freedom's 

shore, 

Poor fellows they were almost starving, there was nothing left but skin and 

bone. 

Their cats and dogs how they did eat them their hunger being so very severe, 

Captain and men in one position, Captain and men went equal share. 

But still at last a hitch came on them, a hitch came on them right speedily, 

Captain and men stood in a totter casting out lots to know who should die. 

The lot it fell on one poor sailor his family being so very great. 

Those very words did he grieve sorrow, those very words did he regret, 

I'm willing to die my brother mess-mates, if you to the top-mast will haste away, 

And perhaps you might some sail discover while I unto our dear Lord do pray. 

Those very words did he grieve sorrow, those very words did he regret, 

When a merchant ship there came a-sailing, there came a-sailing to their 

delight. 

May God protect all jolly sailors who boldly venture on the main 

And keep them free from all such trials, never to hear the likes again. 



45

Sheep-Shearing Song 

Come all my jolly boys, and we'll together go, 

Together with our masters, to shear the lambs and yowes. 

All in the month of June, of all times in the year, 

It always comes in season the lambs and yowes to shear. 

And then we will work hard my boys, until our backs do break, 

Our master he will bring us beer whenever we do lack. 

Our master he comes round, to see our work's done well, 

And he says Shear them close my boys, for there is but little wool. 

Oh yes, good master, we reply, we'll do well as we can. 

Our captain cries Shear close my lads, to each and every man. 

And at some places still we have this story all day long, 

Bend your backs and shear them well, and this is all their song. 

And then our noble captain doth to the master say, 

Come let us have one bucket of your good ale, I pray. 

He turns unto our captain, and makes him this reply, 

You shall have the best of beer, I promise, presently. 

Then with the foaming bucket pretty Betsy she doth come, 

And master says, Maid mind and see that every man has some. 

This is some of our pastime while we the sheep do shear, 

And though we be such merry boys, we work hard, I declare. 

And when 'tis night and we are done our master is more free, 

And stores us well with good strong beer and pipes of tobaccee, 

And there we sit a-drinking, we smoke and sing and roar, 

Till we become far merrier than e'er we were before. 

When all our work is done, and all the sheep are shorn, 

Then home with our captain to drink the ale that's strong. 

It's a barrel then of hum-cap, which we will call black ram, 

And we do sit and swagger and we swear that we are men. 

And yet before the night is through I'll bet you half a crown, 

That if you ha'n't a special care, that Ram will knock you down. 



46

Spanish Ladies 

Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish Ladies, 

Farewell and adieu, you ladies of Spain, 

For we've received orders to sail for old England, 

But we hope in a short time to see you again. 

We'll rant and we'll roar, all o'er the wild ocean, 

We'll rant and we'll roar, all o'er the wild seas, 

Until we strike soundings in the Channel of old England, 

From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues. 

We hove our ship to, with the wind at sou' west, boys, 

We hove our ship to for deep soundings to take, 

'Twas forty-five fathoms with a white sandy bottom, 

So we squared our main yard and up channel did make. 





The first land we made was a point called the Dodman, 

Next Rame Head off Plymouth, off Portland the Wight, 

We sailed then by Beachy, by Fairlee and Dung'ness, 

Then bore straight away for the South Foreland Light. 





The signal was made for the Grand Fleet to anchor, 

And all in the Downs that night for to lie, 

Let go your shank painter, let go your cat stopper, 

Haul up your clew garnets, let tacks and sheets fly. 





Then let every man here toss off a full bumper, 

Then let every man here toss off his full bowl, 

For we will be jolly and drown melancholy, 

With a health to each jovial and true-hearted soul. 







47

Spotted Cow 

One morning in the month of May as from my cott I strayed, 

Just at the dawning of the day I met with a charming maid 

Just at the dawning of the day I met with a charming maid. 

Good morning, fair maid, fair weather said I, and early tell me now, 

The maid replied, Kind sir, she said, I've lost my spotted cow 

The maid replied, Kind sir, she said, I've lost my spotted cow. 

No longer weep, no longer mourn: your cow's not lost, my dear, 

I saw her down in yonder grove, come love and I'll show you where, 

I saw her down in yonder grove, come love and I'll show you 

where. 

Then in the grove we spent our time and thought it passed to soon, 

At night we homeward made our way when brightly shone the moon, 

At night we homeward made our way when brightly shone the 

moon. 

Next day we went to view the plough across the flowery dale, 

We loved and kissed each other there and love was all our tale, 

We loved and kissed each other there and love was all our 

tale. 

If I should cross the flowery dale all for to view the plough, 

She comes, she calls me, Gentle swain, I've lost my spotted cow, 

She comes, she calls me, Gentle swain, I've lost my spotted 

cow. 



48

Streets of Forbes 

Now come all you Lochlan men, and a terrible tale I'll tell, 

Concerning of a hero bold, who through misfortune fell. 

His name it was Ben Hall, a man of great reknown, 

Who was hunted from his station, and like a dog cut down. 

Three years he roamed the roads, and he showed the traps some fun. 

A thousand pounds was on his head, with Gilbert and John Dunn. 

Ben parted from his comrades, the outlaws did agree 

To give away bushranging, and cross the briny sea. 

Ben went to Goobang Creek, and that was his downfall, 

For riddled like a sieve he was, the valiant Ben Hall. 

Twas early in the morning, upon the 5th. of May, 

The troopers all surrounded him, as fast asleep he lay. 

Bill Duggan he was chosen, to shoot the outlaw dead. 

The troopers then fired madly, and filled him full of lead. 

They wrapped him in a blanket, and strapped him to his prad, 

And led him through the streets of Forbes to show the prize they had. 



49

The Black Velvet Band 

Well, in a neat little town they call Belfast, apprentice to trade I was bound 

Many an hours sweet happiness, have I spent in that neat little town 

A sad misfortune came over me, which caused me to stray from the land 

Far away from my friends and relations, betrayed by the black velvet band 

Her eyes they shone like diamonds 

I thought her the queen of the land 

And her hair it hung over her shoulder 

Tied up with a black velvet band 

I took a stroll down Broadway, meaning not long for to stay 

When who should I meet but this pretty fair maid comes a tripping along the 

highway 

She was both fair and handsome, her neck it was just like a swans 

And her hair it hung over her shoulder, tied up with a black velvet band 





I took a stroll with this pretty fair maid, and a gentleman passing us by 

Well I knew she meant the doing of him, by the look in her roguish black eye 

A goldwatch she took from his pocket and placed it right in to my hand 

And the very first thing that I said was bad luck to the black velvet band 





Before the judge and the jury, next morning I had to appear 

The judge he says to me: "Young man, your case it is proven clear 

We'll give you seven years penal servitude, to be spent faraway from the land 

Far away from your friends and companions, betrayed by the black velvet band" 





So come all you jolly young fellows a warning take by me 

When you are out on the town me lads, beware of them pretty colleens 

For they feed you with strong drink, "Oh yeah", 'til you are unable to stand 

And the very next thing that you'll know is you've landed in Van Diemens Land 







50

The Blacksmith 

A blacksmith courted me, nine months or better. 

He fairly won my heart, wrote me a letter. 

With his hammer in his hand, he looked so clever, 

And if I was with my love I'd live forever. 

And where is my love now, with his cheeks of roses, 

And his good black billycock on, decked with primroses? 

I'm afraid the scorching sun will shine and burn his beauty, 

And if I was with my love I'd do my duty. 

Strange news is come to town, strange news is carried. 

Strange news flies up and down, my love is married. 

Well I wish them both much joy, though they don't hear me, 

And may God reward them well for slightin' of me. 

What did you promise when you sat beside me? 

You said you'd marry me, and not deny me. 

If I said I'd marry you, it was only for to try you, 

So bring your witness love, and I'll not deny you. 

Oh, witness have I none, save God almighty, 

And he'll reward you well for slightin' of me. 

Her lips grew pale and white, it made her poor heart tremble, 

To think she'd loved one, and he proved deceitful. 



51

The Blind Man He Can See 

There was a pretty young woman and in Oxford she did dwell; 

She loved her darling husband and another man twice as well, 

Singing tiggery-oorum-oorum, and beware the likes of she, 

Tiggery-oorum-oorum and the blind man he can see. 

Well she went to the doctor's shop to see if she could find 

Anything at all that would make the old man blind, 



Oh, just you get some marrow-bones and put them on to boil, 

And when he sucks all the marrow out he won't see nothing at all, 



Now the doctor sent to this old man and told him what she spoke. 

The husband thanked him kindly and he said he saw the joke, 



Well, she got a pound of marrow-bones and put them on to boil, 

And when he sucked all the marrow out he couldn't see any more, 



Oh, it's now I'm blind and comfortless, and here I can't remain, 

And I think I'd like to drown myself to take away the pain, 



You poor old man, you blind old man, I well see what you mean; 

If you'd really like to drown yourself I'll take you to the stream, 



He said I'll stand on the river-bank and you run up the hill, 

And then run down and push me in, she said "My love, I will", 



So he stood on the river-bank, and up the hill she ran, 

And when she ran down he stepped aside and headlong she went in, 



Oh help, oh help me husband dear, so loudly she did call. 



52

Oh, don't you remember that I've gone blind and can't see nothing at all, 



Now the old man being kind-hearted and he knew she could not swim, 

He got himself a very long pole, and pushed her further in, 





53

The Elements 

There's antimony, arsenic, aluminum, selenium, 

And hydrogen and oxygen and nitrogen and rhenium, 

And nickel, neodymium, neptunium, germanium, 

And iron, americium, ruthenium uranium, 

Europium, zirconium, lutetium, vanadium 

Lanthanum and osmium and astatine and radium, 

And gold, protactinium and indium and gallium, 

And iodine and thorium and thulium and thalium. 

There's yttrium, ytterbium, actinium, rubidium, 

And boron, gadolinium, niobium, iridium, 

And strontium and silicon and silver and samarium 

And bismuth, bromine, lithium, beryllium and barium. 

There's holmium and helium and hafnium and erbium, 

And phosphorus and francium and fluorine and terbium, 

And manganese and mercury, molybdenum, magnesium 

Dysprosium and scandium and cerium and caesium, 

And lead, praseodymium and platinum, plutonium, 

Palladium, promethium, potassium, polonium 

And tantalum, technetium, titanium, tellurium 

And cadmium and calcium and chromium and curium. 

There's sulphur, californium and fermium, berkelium, 

And also mendelevium, einsteinium, nobelium, 

And argon, krypton, neon, radon, xenon, zinc and rhodium, 

And chlorine, carbon, cobalt, copper, tungsten, tin and sodium. 

These are the only ones of which the news has come to Harvard: 

There may be many others, but they haven't been discarvard. 



54

The English 

The rottenest bits of these islands of ours 

We've left in the hands of three unfriendly powers 

Examine the Irishman, Welshman or Scot 

You'll find he's a stinker as likely as not 

The English the English the English are best 

I wouldn't give tuppence for all of the rest 

The Scotsman is mean as we're all well aware 

He's boney and blotchy and covered with hair 

He eats salty porridge, he works all the day 

And hasn't got bishops to show him the way 



The Irishman now our contempt is beneath 

He sleeps in his boots and he lies through his teeth 

He blows up policemen or so I have heard 

And blames it on Cromwell and William the Third 

The English are moral the English are good 

And clever and modest and misunderstood 

The Welshman's dishonest, he cheats when he can 

He's little and dark more like monkey than man 

He works underground with a lamp on his hat 

And sings far too loud, far too often and flat 



And crossing the channel one cannot say much 

For the French or the Spanish, the Danish or Dutch 

The Germans are German, the Russians are red 

And the Greeks and Italians eat garlic in bed 

The English are noble, the English are nice 

And worth any other at double the price 

And all the world over each nation's the same 

They've simply no notion of playing the game 

They argue with umpires, they cheer when they've won 

And they practice before hand which spoils all the fun 




55


It's not that they're wicked or naturally bad 

It's just that they're foreign that makes them so mad 

The English are all that a nation should be 

And the pride of the English are Chipper and me 



Flanders & Swann 



56

The Jovial Tradesmen 

(Jones’s Ale) 

Come all you honest labouring men that work hard all the day, 

And join with me at the Barley Mow to pass an hour away. 

When we can sing and drink and be merry 

And drive away all our cares and worries, 

When Jones's ale was new, my boys, 

When Jones's ale was new. 

The first to come in was the ploughman, with sweat all on his brow, 

Up with the lark at the break of day he guides his speedy plough; 

He drives his team, how they do toil 

O'er hill and valley to turn the soil. 



The next to come in was the blacksmith, his brawny arms all bare, 

And with his pint of Jones's ale he has no fear or care; 

Throughout the day his hammer he's swingin', 

He sings when he hears his anvil ringin' 



The next to come in was the scytheman so cheerful and so brown, 

And with the rhythm of his scythe the corn he does mow down. 

He works, he mows, he sweats and blows 

And he leaves his swathes laying all in rows. 



The next to come in was the tinker and he was no small beer drinker, 

And he was no small beer drinker to join the jovial crew. 

He told the old woman he'd mend her kettle, 

Oh lord how his hammer and tongs did rattle. 



Now here's to Jones our landlord, a jovial man is he, 

Likewise his wife, a buxom lass, who joins in harmony. 

We wish them happiness and good will, 

While our pots and glasses they do fill. 





57

The Mermaid 

On Friday morn, when we set sail, 

And our ship not far from the land, 

We there did espy a fair pretty maid, 

With a comb and a glass in her hand, her hand, her hand, 

With a comb and a glass in her hand. 

While the raging seas did roar, and the stormy winds did 

blow, 

And we jolly sailor boys were up and up aloft, 

With the landlubbers lying down below, below, below, 

With the landlubbers lying down below. 

Then up spoke the captain of our gallant ship, 

Who at once our peril did see, 

I have married a wife in fair London town, 

And tonight she a widow will be, will be, will be, 

And tonight she a widow will be. 


blow, 




Then up spoke the little cabin boy, 

And a fair-haired boy was he, 

I've a father and mother in fair Portsmouth town, 

And tonight they will weep for me, for me, for me, 

And tonight they will weep for me. 


blow, 




Then three times round went our gallant ship, 

And three times round went she, 

Then three times round went our gallant ship, 

And she sank to the bottom of the sea, the sea, the sea, 

And she sank to the bottom of the sea. 


blow, 






58

The Mole-Catcher's Song 

Near Manchester city at the sign of the Plough 

There lived a mole-catcher, I'll sing of him now, 

Singing low till I day, low till I liddle-I, low till I die. 

He went a mole-catching from morning till night, 

And a young fellow came for to play with his wife, 


Now the mole-catcher, jealous of this very same thing, 

He hid in the wash-house to watch him come in, 

Singing low till I day, low till I liddle-I, low till I die.. 

Now when the young fellow came over the stile, 

This caused the mole-catcher so foxy to smile, 


He knocked at the door and to her did say 

Oh, where is your husband, good woman I pray, 


He's gone a mole-trapping, you need have no fear, 

But little she knew the mole-catcher was near, 


She went off upstairs and he followed her sign, 

And the old mole-catcher crept close up behind, 


Now when the young fellow's in the midst of his frolics, 

The mole-catcher caught him quite fast by the leg, 


The trap it be tight and he laughed at the sight, 

Saying here's the best mole I ever caught in my life, 


I'll make you pay well for ploughing me land, 

And the money it'll cost you no less than ten pounds, 


Very well, said the young man, the money I don't mind: 

That only works out at about tuppence a time, 


So come all you young fellows and mind what you're at: 

Don't you ever get caught in the mole-catcher's trap, 



59




60

The Oak And The Ash 

A north-country maid down to London had strayed, 

Although with her nature it did not agree; 

For she wept and she sighed, and she bitterly cried, 

How I wish once again in the north I could be. 

Oh, the oak and the ash and the bonny rowan tree, 

They flourish at home in my own country. 

While sadly I roam I regret my dear home, 

Where the lads and the lasses are making the hay, 

Where the merry bells ring, and the pretty birds sing, 

And the maidens and meadows are pleasant and gay. 



No doubt, did I please, I could marry with ease, 

For where maidens are fair many lovers will come, 

But the man I will wed shall be north-country bred, 

And shall carry me back to my own country. 





61

The Pirates' Christmas 

I've asked a great many people, but nobody seems to know 

What the pirates did for Christmas in the days of long ago: 

How many loaded galleons on Christmas day they sank, 

And how many merchant seamen they made to walk the plank. 

Or whether they chanted carols, as round the decks they rolled, 

And made each other presents out of their hoards of gold, 

And covered the mast with green leaves and called it a Christmas tree, 

And hung it with shining sequins on the shore of a tropic sea. 

And lit the rum round the pudding and cursed in a kindly way, 

But refused to do any business because it was Christmas day. 

I've asked a great many people, but nobody seems to know, 

What the pirates did for Christmas in the days of long ago. 



62

The Salvation Army 

We're coming, we're coming, our brave little band: 

On the right side of temperance we take our stand. 

We don't smoke tobacco because we all think 

That people who do are more likely to drink. 

And away, away with rum, by gum, 

With rum, by gum, with rum, by gum, 


We're joining the Salvation Army. 

We never eat fruitcake, 'cos fruitcake has rum, 

And one bite of this turns a man to a bum. 

Can you imagine, what a terrible sight, 

A man eating fruitcake until he is tight. 





We never eat biscuits, 'cos biscuits have yeast, 

And one bite of this turns a man to a beast. 

Can you imagine, what a terrible disgrace, 

A man in the gutter with crumbs on his face. 





We never use mouthwash, 'cos mouthwash has gin, 

And while you are gargling it osmoses in. 

Can you imagine, what a terrible display, 

A man in his bathroom osmosing all day. 





We never eat trifle, 'cos trifle has brandy, 

And one bowl of this makes you terribly randy. 

Can you imagine, what a terrible shock: 

A young man with custard all over his tie. 







63

We never eat cornflakes, 'cos cornflakes have wheat, 

And it falls to your gut and ferments as you eat. 

Just how could anyone be such a bastard, 

As to keep eating cornflakes until he is plastered. 





We never use camp-stoves, 'cos campstoves have meths, 

And this is well known to cause blindness and deaths. 

Can you imagine, what a horrible trick, 

To lie in your sleeping bag, sucking your wick. 







64

The Wild Colonial Boy 

It's of a wild colonial boy, Jack Dooland was his name. 

Of poor but honest parents, he was born in Castlemain. 

He was his mother's only pride, his father's hope and joy: 

A credit to his parents was the wild colonial boy. 

He was scarcely sixteen years of age when he left his native home, 

And to Australia's sunny clime a bushranger did rome. 

He robbed the wealthy squatters, their stock he did destroy: 

A terror to Australia was the wild colonial boy. 

In '61 this daring youth began his wild career; 

A heart that knew no danger, no foe-man did he fear. 

He stuck up the Beechworth mailcoach, and he robbed Judge MacEvoy, 

Who trembled and gave up his gold to the wild colonial boy. 

One day when he was riding the mountain side along, 

A listening to the mockingbird, his happy laughing song, 

When up rode three bold troopers, Kelly, Davis and Fitzroy; 

They thought that they would capture him, the wild colonial boy. 

"Surrender now Jack Dooland, for you see it's three to one. 

Surrender in the Queen's name, for you are a plundering son." 

Jack drew a pistol from his belt, and shook it like a toy. 

"I'll fight and not surrender, said the wild colonial boy". 

He fired a shot at Kelly, who fell dead on the ground, 

He fired point blank at Davis, who fell dead at the round. 

All shattered through the jaws he lay, still firing at Fitzroy, 

And so they never captured him, the wild colonial boy. 



65

The Wraggle-Taggle Gypsies 

There were three gypsies a-come to my door, 

And downstairs ran this lady-o. 

One sang high and the other sang low, 

And the other sang bonny, bonny Biscay-o. 

Then she pulled off her silk finished gown 

And put on hose of leather-o. 

The ragged, ragged rags about our door, 

She's gone with the wraggle-taggle gypsies-o. 

It was late last night when my lord came home, 

Enquiring for his lady-o; 

The servants said on every hand, 

She's gone with the wraggle-taggle gypsies-o. 

O saddle me my milk-white steed, 

Go fetch me my pony-o 

That I may ride and seek my bride 

Who is gone with the wraggle-taggle gypsies-o. 

Oh he rode high and he rode low, 

He rode through woods and copses-o, 

Until he came to an open field, 

And there he espied his lady-o. 

What makes you leave your house and land? 

What makes you leave your money-o? 

What makes you leave your new-wedded lord, 

To go with the wraggle-taggle gypsies-o. 

O what care I for my house and land, 

What care I for my money-o? 

What care I for my new-wedded lord? 

I'm off with the wraggle-taggle gypsies-o. 

Last night you slept on a goose-feather bed, 

With the sheet turned down so bravely-o, 

And tonight you'll sleep in a cold open field, 

Along with the wraggle-taggle gypsies-o. 

What care I for a goose-feather bed, 

With the sheet turned down so bravely-o? 

For tonight I'll sleep in a cold open field, 

Along with the wraggle-taggle gypsies-o. 



66

There Lived a Maid in Amsterdam 

In Amsterdam there lived a maid , 


In Amsterdam there lived a maid , 

And she was mistress of her trade, 




I put my hand upon her toe, 


I put my hand upon her toe, 

Young man, she said, you're far too slow, 




I put my hand upon her knee, 


I put my hand upon her knee, 

Young man, she said, you're far too free, 




I put my hand upon her thigh, 


I put my hand upon her thigh, 

Young man, she said, you're far too high, 




I put my hand upon her thing, 


I put my hand upon her thing, 

Young man, she said, I hear bells ring, 




I put my hand upon her breast, 


I put my hand upon her breast, 

Young man, she said, the other's best, 





67




68

There Was an Old Man on a Farm 

There was an old man on a farm, 

And this he said to me, sir, 

He said he could do more work in a day 

Than his wife could do in three, sir. 

If that be so, the old wife said, 

To this you will agree, sir, 

That I shall drive the plough today 

And you shall milk the cow, sir. 

But you must watch the speckled hen 

For fear she lay away, sir, 

And you must wash the spool of yarn 

That I spun yesterday, sir. 

The old wife took the stick in hand 

And went to drive the plough, sir, 

The old man took the pail in hand 

And went to milk the cow, sir. 

But Tiny fussed and kicked about, 

And Tiny cocked her nose, sir, 

A Tiny gave the man a kick, 

The blood ran from the blow, sir. 

He went within to feed the pigs 

That were within the sty, sir, 

He knocked his head against the door, 

Which made the blood to fly, sir. 

He went to watch the speckled hen, 

For fear she lay away, sir, 

And clean forgot the spool of yarn 

His wife spun yesterday, sir. 

At time he looked at pig and cow, 

And said I do agree, sir, 

If my wife never works again, 

She'll not be blamed by me, sir. 



69

To Young Brethren 

Come on all you jolly ploughboys and help me to sing 

And I’ll sing in the praise of you all. 

For if we don’t labour how can there be bread? 

I will sing and make merry with all. 

It was up to young brethren, to brethren of old, 

It was up to young brethren born. 

How the one was a shepherd and the tender of sheep, 

And the other a planter of corn. 

We will moil it we will toil it through mire and through clay. 

We will plough it up deeper in rows, 

And after comes the seedsman his corn to sow 

And the harrow to rake it in rows. 

There’s April, there’s May, there’s June and July, 

What a pleasure to see the corn grow. 

In August it ripeneth we reap and sheaves tie 

And go down with our scythes for to mow. 

And when we have gathered up every sheaf 

And gleaned up every hill, 

We have no more but to plough and to sow 

And provide for the harvest next year. 



70

Turmut Hoeing 

'Twas on a jolly summer's morn, the twenty-first of May, 

Giles Scroggins took his turmut hoe, with which he trudged away; 

For some delights in haymakin', and some they fancies mowin', 

But of all the trades as I likes best, give I the turmut hoein'. 

For the fly, the fly, the fly is on the turmut, 

And it's all my eye for we to try to keep fly off the turmut. 

Now the first place as I went to work, it were at farmer Tower's. 

He vowed and sweared and then declared I were a first-rate hoer. 

Now the next place as I went to work, I took it by the job, 

But if I'd ha' knowed it a little afore, I'd sooner been in quod. 



In winter I drives the oxen about the fields a-ploughin' 

To keep the furrow straight and clear all ready for the sowin'. 

And when the frost bars up the wheels, out on the land we're goin' 

For without manure tis certain sure, no turmuts won't be growin'. 



When I was over at yonder farm, they sent for I a-mowin'. 

But I sent word back I'd sooner have the sack, than lose my turmut hoein'. 

Now all you jolly farming lads as bides at home so warm, 

I now conclude my ditty with wishing you no harm. 





71

Two Constant Lovers 

As I was a-walking down by the sea-shore, 

Where the wind and the waves and the billows do roar, 

There I heard a strange voice make a terrible sound: 

'Twas the wind and the waves and the echoes all round, 

Crying Oh, my lover's gone. 

He's a youth I adore, 

He's gone, and I never shall see him no more. 

She'd a voice like a nightingale, skin like a dove, 

And the song that she sang it was all about love. 

I asked her to marry me, marry me, please, 

And the answer she gave "My love's drowned in the sea", 




I told her I'd gold, and I'd silver besides, 

In a coach and six horses with me she could ride. 

"No, I never will marry, nor yet make a wife, 

I'll be constant and true all the days of my life", 




She threw out her arms and she took a great leap, 

From the cliffs that were high to the billows so deep, 

Crying the rocks of the ocean shall make me a bed, 

And the shrimps of the sea shall swim over my head, 




And now every night at six bells they appear, 

When the moon it is shining, the sky it is clear, 

Those two constant lovers with all their young charms, 

Rolling over and over in each other's arms, 






72

Up Jumped The Herring 

Up jumped the herring, the king o' the sea, 

Said he to the skipper "look under your lee" 

Singing windy old weather, stormy old weather, 

When the wind blows we'll all pull together. 

Up jumped the herring, the king of the sea, 

And he sang out "old skipper, now you can't sell me" 



Up jumped the herring, the king of the shoal, 

And he cried "you'd do better to be on the dole" 



Up jumped the herring, all broken and spent, 

And he cried "drifting's finished, so who'll pay the rent", 


When the wind blows we'll all starve together 

Up jumped the herring, right under our lee, 

And he cried "skipper, dump me right back in the sea", 

In this windy old weather, stormy old weather, 

When the fleet's scrapped we'll all rot together. 

Up jumped the herring, and he looked to the shore, 

And he cried "there's a world and they'll need us once more", 

In this windy old weather, stormy old weather, 

When the wind blows, we'll all pull together. 



73

Waltzing Matilda 

Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong, 

Under the shade of a coolabah tree, 

And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled, 

You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me: 

Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda, 

You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me, 

And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled, 

You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me. 

Up came a jumbuck to drink at the billabong: 

Up jumped the swagman and grabbed him with glee. 

And he sang as he stuffed that jumbuck in his tuckerbag, 




And he sang as he stuffed that jumbuck in his tuckerbag, 


Up rode the squatter mounted on his thoroughbred, 

Up rode the troopers, one, two, three, 

Where's that jolly jumbuck you've got in your tuckerbag, 




Where's that jolly jumbuck you've got in your tuckerbag, 


Up jumped the swagman and jumped into the billabong, 

You'll never take me alive said he: 

And his ghost may be heard as you pass by that billabong, 

Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me? 



And his ghost may be heard as you pass by that billabong, 




74

We'll Drink To The Downfall Of Tyrants 

We'll drink to the downfall of tyrants, 

We'll drink to Christ the Lord, 

We'll drink to the twelve apostles 

Who preached his holy word. 

We'll drink to the saints and martyrs 

In the dismal days of yore 

And whenever our glasses are empty 

We'll remember one saint more 


We'll remember one saint more. 

We'll drink a health to the King me boys, 

We'll drink a health to the Queen; 

We'll drink to the royal princes 

Whenever they are seen. 

We'll drink to the Dukes and Duchesses 

And all the loyal men, 


We will fill them up again. 


We will fill them up again. 

And now we'll drink to the ladies, 

We'll drink to all their charms, 

We'll drink to the pleasures that we find 

When we are in their arms. 

We'll hold them very tight me boys 

But we will make it clear 

It's goodbye on the day that they do say 

They will keep us from our beer. 

It's goodbye on the day that they do say 

They will keep us from our beer. 

We'll drink a health to the farmer 

At his glorious harvest feast. 

We'll raise our glasses high me boys 

To the strength of malt and yeast. 

We'll drink a health to the landlord 

And his beer so strong and fine, 

And we hope that he forgets to shout 

When it comes to closing time. 

And we hope that he forgets to shout 

When it comes to closing time. 



75

Weary Whaling Ground 

Oh, if I had the wings of a gull, me boys, 

I'd spread them wide and fly home. 

I'd leave old Greenland's icy grounds, 

For of right whales there be none. 

For the weather's rough, and the winds do roar, 

And there's little comfort here; 

Oh, I'd sooner be snug in a Deptford pub, 

A-drinking of strong beer. 

Oh, a man must be mad, or want money bad, 

To venture catching whales. 

For he may be drowned if the fish turns around, 

Or his head be smashed by a tail. 

Thought the work seems grand to the young greenhand, 

And his heart is high when he goes, 

In a very short burst he'll soon hear a curse, 

And a cry of "There she blows" 

"All hands on deck, now, for God's sake, 

Move briskly if you can". 

And he stumbles on deck all dizzy and sick, 

For his life he don't give a damn. 

And high overhead the great flukes spread, 

As the mate gives the whale the iron, 

And soon from the spout in a great purple flood, 

The blood all comes a-flying. 

These trials we bear for nigh four years, 

Till the flying jib points to home. 

We're supposed for our toil to get a bonus on the oil, 

And an equal share of the bone. 

But we go to our agent to settle for the trip, 

And we find we've cause to repent, 

For we've slaved away four years of our lives, 

And we've earned about three pounds ten. 



76

Wey-Hey, Me Maties 

Come gather ye round and I'll sing you a yarn, 

Wey-hey, me maties, 

Me gunnels is bent and me rowlocks is worn, 

We're on our way to Jamaic'ee. 

We'll sail south-west for old Cameroon, 


We'll beat up the natives and steal their dubloons, 

We're on our way to Jamaic'ee. 

We've got a full cargo down in the hold, 


We've got spices and tea and a chestful of gold, 

And a bloody great sack of potaties. 

Old peg-leg Pete is a smelly old sod, 


'Cos 'ee wears a codpiece made out of real cod, 

You can smell 'im way off in Jamaic'ee. 

At night you can hear the old timbers a-groanin', 


And the men as they toss in their hammocks are moanin', 

They're a bunch of old masterbaties. 

Captain says "lads, we're in for a gale", 


"So row like ****, we've forgotten the sail, 

It's a bloody long way to Jamaic'ee. 

"Shiver me timbers", the old bosun roared, 


Then he tripped on his cutlass and fell overboard, 

Now 'e'll have to swim to Jamaic'ee. 

Last Saturday night we all drank too much grog, 


And while we was pissed we got lost in the fog, 

Now we'll never get to Jamaic'ee, 

No we'll never get to Jamaic'ee. 



77

Whip Jamboree 

Now me lads be of good cheer, for the Irish coast will soon be near, 

We'll set a course for old Cape Clear, oh Jenny get your oatcakes done. 

Whip jamboree, whip jamboree, 

Oh you pig-tailed sailor, hang down behind, 


Oh, Jenny get your oatcakes done. 

And now Cape Clear it is in sight, we'll be off Holyhead by tomorrow night, 

We'll steer a course for the old rock light, oh Jenny get your oatcakes done. 





Now me lads we're off Holyhead, no more salty beef or weevily bread, 

One man at the chain for to swing the lead, oh Jenny get your oatcakes done. 





Now me lads we're off Fort Perch rock, all hammocks lashed and all chests 

locked, 

We'll haul her in to Waterloo dock, oh Jenny get your oatcakes done. 





Now me lads we're all in dock, we'll be off to Dan Lowry's on the spot, 

And there we'll sink a big pint pot, oh Jenny get your oatcakes done. 







78

Whiskey In The Jar 

As I was going over the famed Kerry mountains, 

I met with Captain Farrel, and his money he was counting: 

I first produced my pistol and I then produced my rapier, 

Saying "stand and deliver, for you are a bold deceiver" 

Musha ring durram do durram dah, 

Whack fol de daddio, whack fol de daddio 

There's whiskey in the jar. 

I counted out his money and it made a pretty penny. 

I put it in my pocket and I took it home to Jenny. 

She sighed and she swore that she never would deceive me, 

But the Devil take the women for they never can be easy. 




I went on to my chamber all for to take a slumber; 

I dreamt of golden jewels and for sure it was no wonder. 

But Jenny drew my charges and she filled them up with water, 

Then sent for Captain Farrel to be ready for the slaughter. 




It was early in the morning, just before I rose to travel, 

Up comes a band of footmen and likewise Captain Farrel. 

I first produced my pistol for she'd stolen away my rapier, 

But I couldn't shoot the water, so a prisoner I was taken. 




There's some that take delight in the carriages a-rolling, 

Others take delight in the hurley and the bowling, 

But I take delight in the juice of the barley 

And courting pretty fair maids in the morning bright and early. 




And if anyone can aid me 'tis my brother in the army: 

If I can fight a station in Cork or Killarny, 

And if he'll go with me we'll go roaming in Kilkenny 

And I'm sure he'll treat me better than my only sporting Jenny. 





79




80

Wild Rover 

I've been a wild rover for many a year, 

And I've spent all my money on whisky and beer. 

And now I'm returning with gold in great store, 

And I never will play the wild rover no more. 

And it's no, nay, never, 

No, nay, never, no more, 

Will I play the wild rover, 

No, never, no more. 

I went to an alehouse I used to frequent, 

And I told the landlady my money was spent. 

I asked her for credit, she answered me nay, 

Such a custom as yours I can get any day. 





Then out from my pocket I took sovereigns bright, 

And the landlady's eyes opened wide with delight. 

She said I have whisky and wines of the best, 

And the words I have spoken were only in jest. 





I'll go back to my parents, confess what I've done, 

And ask them to pardon their prodigal son. 

And when they've caressed me as oft times before, 

Then I never shall play the wild rover no more. 







81

William Brown 

(Keep That Wheel a-Turning) 

A right young lad was William Brown, 

He worked for a wage in a northern town. 

Her turned a wheel from left to right, 

From eight in the morning till six at night. 

And keep that wheel a-turning, keep that wheel a-turning, 

Keep that wheel a-turning, and do a little more each day. 

Now the boss one day to William came, 

He said "look here, young what's your name, 

We're far from pleased with what you do, 

So hurry that wheel or out you go." 



Now William turned, and he made a run 

Three times round in the place of one. 

He turned so hard he was quickly made 

The Royal High Turner of his trade. 



Now William turned with a saintly smile, 

The goods they grew to such a pile, 

They filled the room and the room next door, 

And overflowed to the basement floor. 



Well, the nation thrilled to the wondrous tale, 

News appeared in the Sketch and the Mail, 

The railways brought excursions down, 

All for to gaze on William Brown. 



But sad to say, things were not all well, 

He turned out more than the boss could sell. 

The market fell and the price came down, 

Seven more days and they sacked young Brown. 



And William's now a postman, William's now a postman, 

William's now a postman, but it's better than walking the street! 



82

Wop She Ad It-Io 

Now once I courted a pretty girl, I courted her quite well, 

Her name was Kitty-Maria and mine was Bobby Wells. 

One night when I was courting Kit when her father was at home, 

He said if I catch you here again I'll tickle your bot-tum, 

With a wop she 'ad it I tell you I 'ad it O wop she 'ad it-io, 

Wop she 'ad it I tell you I 'ad it O wop she 'ad it-io. 

Now Kit and I we did agree a ladder for to bring, 

We placed it under the window and by gum it was just the thing! 

We laughed and chattered and chattered and talked when all at once, by gum, 

My foot slipped through the ladder and I fell and cut my bot-tum, 



They wheeled me home in a wheelbarrow, they wheeled me home with care, 

And when I got to the farmyard gate, Oh, didn't the old folks stare: 

My brother Joe came running out and said what have you done? 

I've been a-courting Kit, said I, and fell and cut my bot-tum, 



They took me to the doctor's and there I showed my case, 

And didn't they do a grin when I showed them my Sunday face. 

They thought I was making a fool of them, but a fool of them by gum: 

I thought they were making a fool of me when they turpentined my bum, 



Now Kit and I we did agree for to get wed, 

She made me a sling to put my bum in and through it I cocked my leg. 

As we were walking down the street the kids did shout, by gum, 

There goes the man with his bum in a sling that fell and cut his bot-tum, 





83

Workers' Song 

Yeh, this one's for the workers who toil night and day 

By hand and by brain to earn your pay 

Who for centuries long past for no more than your bread 

Have bled for your countries and counted your dead 

We're the first ones to starve, we're the first ones to die 

The first ones in line for that pie-in-the-sky 

And we're always the last when the cream is shared out 

For the worker is working when the fat cat's about 

In the factories and mills, in the shipyards and mines 

We've often been told to keep up with the times 

For our skills are not needed, they've streamlined the job 

And with sliderule and stopwatch our pride they have robbed 





And when the sky darkens and the prospect is war 

Who's given a gun and then pushed to the fore 

And expected to die for the land of our birth 

Though we've never owned one lousy handful of earth? 





All of these things the worker has done 

From tilling the fields to carrying the gun 

We've been yoked to the plough since time first began 

And always expected to carry the can 

Adapted from the Dropkick Murphy's interpretation of the Ed Pickford original 



84


(less serious version) 

Come sing, you men, and remember when 

We last saw Rob at practice: 

It was last year, or very near 

Unpardonable slackness 

Sing hey and ho, and here we go 

Can you recall his surname? 

Now Rob is here, so raise a cheer 

Perhaps he can remember. 

Foot up, foot down, and hands around 

He last tried in December 


He'll go wrong in the sticking. 

We're here to shout, and jump about 

And spoil the peace and quiet. 

To awake up those who'd rather dose 

And instigate a riot, 


A first rate bloody nuisance. 

The maize and wheat will shoot three feet 

And swarms of bees make honey. 

But it's not free, we charge a fee: 

It's going to cost you money, 


This is no more than begging. 

Here ends our dance, and no advance 

Is seen in things a-growing. 

No instant spurts in corn or worts, 

We might as well be going 


Another duff performance. 

These rites obscure achieve no cure 

Although we dance with vigour. 

They don't bring rain or swell the grain 

Or make your marrows bigger 


So try some fertiliser. 

So off we race, and not a trace 

Of any crop addition. 



85

It's just the same as when we came 

So much for superstition, 


Pathetic rural folklore. 

Irreverent parody in the best tradition of The Buckland Shag Morris Men by Chris Rimmington, 

Buckland Shag 



86

A song for our time: 

Old Rover 

I've owned an old Rover for many a year 

And driven the roads without any fear 

The old firm’s been passed on from pillar to post 

And now they've decided to give up the ghost 

And it’s no more Rover, no nay never no more 

’Cos the Chinese don't want it, they're closin' the door. 

I went to a garage I used to frequent 

And there I was told all the spares had been sent 

To the owners club's store by the secretary 

There to be kept for posterity 


’Cos the Chinese don't want it, they're closin' the door. 

I now drive an Audi through country and town, 

It's stylish and comfy and never breaks down. 

Killed by old methods and bad management 

That's where the British car industry went .... 


’Cos the Chinese don't want it, so they're closin' the door. 

Poor Rover is dying and we're all to blame. 

And the cars in the car park they all look the same 

The once great company’s been brought to its knees 

’Cos when we got new cars we bought Japanese 



Rover shares British industries' fate 

Just like "Great Britain" it's no longer great 

Imported or out-sourced it's all in decline 

And finally Rover has also called "time" 



Austin and Morris were names that I knew 

They have all gone, now Rover will too 

Ashes to ashes and rust unto rust 

Just like our country it's turning to dust 





87

The Bob Martin Anthology 

Some poems by “the late” Bobby Martin, the man who takes the term “morris time” 

to the extreme 

Looking out at a peach dawn 

As yet another day is born. 

The lone heron casually flies by 

And vapour trails extend up high. 

Daybreak 

Looking back down from up above 

See the flight of the collared dove 

Soars, flutters and glides from the roost 

To breathe new air for the daily boost. 

Looking back up at streaked grey sky 

See a thousand gnats rise to fly, 

Here for but a short few days, 

Orchestrated by the sun's first rays. 

Look again, watch the orb climb, 

The clock strikes seven, is that the time? 

Drink up your tea, put on your shirt, 

It's time to go and do some work! 

Look out the door, hear magpies clatter 

Up on the roof, the starlings chatter. 

Lazy rooks caw “Wait for me, 

I'm not the fastest bird in the tree!” 

Look behind you on the wall, 

Your shadow there is still quite tall, 

Through the door and turn the key, 

Into the van, out of this reverie. 

Bob Martin, from “Literary Wreck-Creations” (January – December 2002) 



88


Now here's to Morris and time well spent, 

You'll find the Morris dancer a very merry gent, 

With his baldrics, bells, his stick and his hanky, 

An extrovert character, perhaps slightly cranky, 

Because before six o'clock on Mayday morn', 

Just prior to sunrise our season's reborn. 

The Buckland Shag, he circles the pond, 

Looking out for maidens, perhaps to abscond! 

Across the water glance the sun's first rays, 

A picturesque start for the coming days. 

It does help to have a musical ear, 

Even if hands and feet are not in gear. 

Step to the left and step to the right. 

Stick hits knuckles; not a pretty sight. 

Start with a flourish, finish with a cheer, 

Concentrate on stepping and drinking pints of beer. 

So here's to Morris with a good intent, 

For it doesn't take practice to be a merry gent. 




89

Heaven On Earth 

The land of my forefathers often calls to me, 

With its pine woods, its bracken and calming tranquility. 

Often I have browsed among sandstone and beech mast, 

Remembering who was there in the dim, distant past, 

Always a walk of delight, no matter how tired, 

Landmarks, vistas, aromas, childhood imagination fired! 

I recall even as a toddler the glory of being up high 

And as I grew older those feelings would multiply, 

Eventually I took my children and introduced Leith Hill 

To two more rural lovers who understood the thrill 

Of looking across the weald in hopes of a glint of sea, 

Tightly holding their dad's hand in excited expectancy! 

The world could turn pear-shaped; life could go off pop! 

But I'd still enjoy oaks and larch when viewed from up the top..... 




90

September Morn 

Tinged with an autumnal blush, 

As if painted, with an artist's brush, 

An articulate dab, here and there. 

Then a broad wavy splash, without care! 

As nature beckons, with birdsong calls 

And “Pride of the Morning”: a light rain falls; 

The land's alive this September morn', 

The twilight season seems new-born! 

Partridges with heads held high filter into the maize, 

Did I startle them, or were they scolded by the jays? 

Yellow breasts flash and green wings beat, 

As two red headed Yaffles make a fast retreat. 

My spaniel circles slowly, doing as she's told?! 

As if giving nature a sporting chance to unfold; 

The hawthorn's well laden as is the dog rose, 

But this September there's a shortage of sloes. 

Mother earth is warm as I kneel by the oak 

Grey clouds, now banking. Are we in for a soak? 

And there in the distance a flick of white mop, 

As the rabbits enjoy breakfast amongst the turnip crop. 

What a beautiful morning, as the sun lifts, warm and slow, 

It's time now for cornflakes so I really must go; 

“Come on Susie, let's run back through the wood!” 

We've both started today, refreshed and feeling good! 




91

(Alphabetic happenings) 

It's a Funny Old World 

Abstaining from drink, but not barred, 

Bereaving a friend who will never know, 

Cut by remarks but not scarred, 

Deciding on a return plan before you go. 

Expecting a loss and gaining too much, 

Friendly advice from a complete stranger, 

Grasping at straws to stay in touch 

Heeding the warning, once out of danger! 

Important signatures, portrayed by common scrawl, 

“Just a minute!” may take an hour, 

Knighted subjects, acting the fool, 

Little events of great power. 

Motivation achieved, by relaxing for a week 

Nothing on my mind, even as I speak! 

Obstructed by red tape, (or was it a ribbon?) 

Persuasion of fools by exercising contempt, 

Questioning evolution while acting like a gibbon, 

Reaching a career goal, qualifications exempt. 

Soaring like an eagle with turkeys all around, 

Thoughtful and thankful of other people's needs, 

Utopian visionary with feet firmly on the gground, 

Vexed and frustrated by trivial deeds. 

Warnings of the apocalypse from a drunk, 

X-rated language from the mouths of kids, 

Yachts with bulbous sails, sometimes sunk? 

Zzzzerios thoughts from a man with heavy eyelids!.... 




92

40 Winks 

Howzat!.... Another wicket, 

Sitting, watching cricket, 

Can't stay awake........ 

So forty winks I'll take.... 

1. Oak apples galling 

2. birdsong calling 

3. sycamore keys thinning 

4. new life beginning 

5. pine flowers bursting 

6. fern shoots thirsting 

7. caterpillars munching 

8. bluebells bunching 

9. honeysuckle twining 

10.evergreens shining 

11. small rabbits chasing 

12. night air bracing 

13. parakeets squealing 

14. squirrel damage healing 

15. mother earth warming 

16. more plants forming 

17. tree creepers searching 

18. little owl perching 

19. hawthorn blooming 

20.bumble bees zooming 

21. new lambs bleating 

22.cock-robins meeting 

23.young calves bellowing 

24.rough cider mellowing 

25.chrysalises wriggling 

26.schoolchildren giggling 

27.while they're prancing 

28.and maypole dancing 

29.church bells ringing 

30.songthrush singing 

31. spindly foals grazing 

32.azaleas blazing 

33.pee-wits mewing 

34.turtle doves cooing 

35.fox cubs dozing 

36.cockerels posing 

37.the cuckoos calling 

38.and fledglings are falling! 

39.circling swifts screaming...... 

40......have stopped me dreaming 

Ah!..... 'Willow and leather' eleven 

And sunshine from heaven! 




93

Lunar-Lit Verse 

The moon was full by eight 

And the words in my mind couldn't wait, 

So I went for a walk on the heath, 

A fine clear night, as I strolled beneath 

The silvered moon in electric blue sky, 

Bright enough to write this by! 

Banded shadows diminishing from view, 

Towards straight trunks of greyish hue 

With a pink sheen, on Scots pine 

And acute image of the top tree line. 

The queen of the woods is shining tonight 

Looking even better than in daylight, 

My legs are weary but my mind at ease, 

As I stroll up the slope, in the chill night breeze. 

My dog's now in front enjoying her run 

And even though I worship the sun, 

I have a deep passion for the silvery moon 

And bathed in light my walk ends too soon. 

See the stars beyond the stars, 

There's Venus.... now where is Mars? 




94

The Boundary Path 

The blue bloom of sloes and ruby red of haws, 

Shining hips on dog rose, will always make me pause. 

Abundant ash keys, lichen on elm, 

Metamorphosis of trees with the change of the realm! 

Fruit for the larders of birds, then their nests 

Are lined with algae, as we don our vests. 

Homely fires are fuelled with dead wood from the rues. 

Jays hiding acorns with oak leaves as clues 

Perhaps have some notion, to regenerate food, 

That they've set in motion, a new stand of wood. 

To think, as open cones fall, their seeds are all gleaned 

By busy small birds, the woodland floor is kept cleaned. 

As I walked through fields enjoying hedgerows, 

With a spaniel for company, (she's busy chasing crows!) 

I relished the solitude and appreciated good health 

As I climbed the downs, with warm back, the sun's in the south, 

Through moss covered woods, past “old man's beard”, 

Under shady yews, down banks where I peered. 

Out across the parish, with its spectacular views, 

I stand still for a while and can't help nut muse, 

Surveying the landscape, I feel inclined to a hymn, 

Something apt, on the north downs way.... “To be a Pilgrim”? 

Many have trod this firm marked scar 

In years gone by, stout English fellows, some travelled far.... 

....I wonder if they stood up here and gazed 

Down to the village, where cattle were grazed, 

Across to the heath up over the spire, 

That feeling of elation, as the skylark flew higher, 

The visionary thoughts that no-one can share, 

Of soul burning issues that had driven them there. 

The taste for great life, free and untroubled, 

Downhill towards town, their efforts redoubled, 

Seeking ordainment at castle or priory 

Or simple hospitality from monks at the friary. 

Whatever their reason to be calm and serene, 

They hiked along that hill and gloried in its scene. 

(an October walk above Buckland) 




95

Counting Time 

I've regained my position, sitting on the fence 

So I'll dawdle through my daydreams, attempting nothing intense, 

From here I can chill, think, reason and rhyme 

And if I stay balanced, then I'll keep ..... 

....COUNTING TIME. 

LIFE in general, without a rift, is ideally the ultimate gift, 

From a blinkered point of view, or even through spectacles of a rosy hue. 

Let's not perceive just black or white, but hades of grey, of dark and light. 

Do I construe what you think I see or fail to notice inevitably? 

I can but read the text unfurled, to sow the seed that grew the world, 

To shield my love or to suffuse such hate, that limits the life we pro-create 

AND all too soon to wither then die, without applause or flag to fly. 

Was time spent to teach or impart, the gifts or talent we had from the start? 

So will they fall upon deaf ears or characterize our kin for years? 

For when we turn to face the wall, the burdens from our shoulders fall, 

To gather weight for heavy heart and form the patterns on life's rich chart, 

Bountiful when living with vibrant breath and hidden from sight when faced with 

DEATH 




96

Dreams of a Countryman 

Was this once a meadow, hand cut by reapers strong, 

Managing scythes for a pittance and smiling all day long? 

A rippling sea of saffron beneath an indigo sky, 

Across this field of oil seed rape, I hear the lapwings cry! 

I see a brilliant sun-burst, flash across the pheasant's breast 

As I crest the grassy knoll and under a birch tree rest. 

I stand awhile at the root-bole of the slender weeping queen, 

Her lissom branches sweeping from a trunk of silver sheen. 

Stately aspens top the rise with regal sway and flutter 

And the woodpecker beats the dead oak bark, with a resounding stutter. 

As I walk on through hazel coppice, soft leaves caress my brows, 

The scent of bluebells, so heady, when I stoop beneath the boughs. 

Ahead a scattering of box and yew, on the north downs' grey-green slopes, 

Beside me a young arboretum, planted among stalwart oaks, 

Now I'm striding onwards through shimmering emerald grass, 

Walking with a purpose, towards the Reigate Hill pass. 

Through this parish I'll continue to wander, 

Without hesitation, or even to ponder, 

On how lucky it is for me, that nature's pleasures are free 

And most thankful to be surrounded by such diversity. 

(A late April evening remembered, between heavy showers) 




97

Turmoil 

I'm saddened, I'm gladdened, confused and amused, 

Heart lifted, mind sifted, by options and views. 

I'm standing, I'm landing, recovering from blows 

And yearning for learning, the secrets to disclose 

The reasons, the seasons, continue to revolve 

While my mind and mankind refuses to evolve! 

Goliath in scripture, by David was slain 

And now will Iraq succeed much the same? 

How many lives will be laid to rest? 

Do they even give a sad damn for us in the West? 

And will the wolf finally wear the fleece? 

To return those arid battle-fields once more to peace. 

When the fighting's gone full term oil will stil be gold, 

The pipelines may be burning but someone will feel the cold. 

Can't the western need be quenched by the Texans' yields? 

Or is it greed, not peace, that covets desert oil fields? 

Though I feel deep inside, that man should not hide behind religious 

misgivings, 

It's an historical fact, blind faith will act, to stir war among human beings, 

I fear the U.S. have instigated stress upon a war-torn nation, 

So will they oppress or finally confess to inevitable self damnation? 

10 th February 2003 

Bob Martin, From “Rambling Rhymes” (2003-2006) 



98

Twelve Line Blues 

Feel the note and shift that chord, 

Pluck the string and tap the board 

Free the head, inspire the sound, 

Lift the pace then turn it around, 

Taste the moment then let it go, 

Plectrum twitch and rhythm flow; 

Lift the heart and stir the soul, 

Open your mind achieve that goal, 

Think the thought and write it down, 

Build the stage and paint the town, 

Breathe the title, reap the reward, 

Play the note and shift the chord. 




99

Aprils Eve 

There's a windrush behind me, a dying 'fire' to the front, 

As the north downs ridgeway is bearing the brunt 

Of a fresh biting westerly all tangled and grey, 

Lit by the embers at the end of a day. 

Chin on chest with head held low, 

Fingers so cold but still words flow.... 

Lifting, withering, winnowing and raw! 

Rose taupe to the north as the west gleams once more, 

Then dims and fades as if snuffed out, 

Rain to the south is now joining the rout, 

So mauve and cobalt, with pale blue to the east, 

Are there fawn and beige gallopers, running from a beast? 

The creak of new growth weighted with sap, 

A swift rush of geese wings pass by in a flap, 

Nose pinched, cheeks burn, ears plucked like a harp, 

Feet tingle, heart warmed and brains still quite sharp?! 

So the Ides of March have almost gone 

And flourishing spring is April's dampened song! 

31 st March 2003 Walking and writing 




100

Blackthorn Winter 

The winds of change, they swept before, 

To stir curled leaf upon earthy floor, 

As the bitter north easterly swelled 

Winter had finished, and with old energies dispelled, 

........Sat a mutation of thrushes upon the blackthorn, 

Nearby a parliament of rooks, above elderberry highborn 

In lofty twig nests with far reaching view 

Across to the churchyard with its resilient yew, 

........A roost for the robins alert at the wake, 

Eyeing disturbed ground for food to take, 

While forever searching high up in the air 

Squawking gulls anticipate the ploughs' share. 




101

Lest We Forget 

'Biggin Hill Saturday' and three planes fly by, 

Nostalgic engine notes echo from the sky, 

The proud Lancaster flanked by Hurricane and Spit', 

Many years have passed but there's no comparison for it! 

Gazing at metal, hand shielding eyes, 

They're trooping our colours of hard won skies! 

Feelings will be roused on their way down to Kent 

As once more defining such a great accomplishment. 

To me it's a poignant message to remember lost souls 

Of bygone days......when it wasn't all victory rolls. 




102

Midsummer Morning 

Misty meadows, dew drenched grass 

Roaming free with time to pass, 

Follow the dog, she's walking me! 

Scenting things I'll never see. 

Aspen seeds fall like snow, 

Caught by patient thistles down below. 

Turquoise damselflies dance and glide, 

Tortoiseshells and Admirals flit by my side. 

A young doe-eyed rabbit parts the broad grass sedge, 

Then flees for cover in the brambled hedge, 

In the rough grass pasture at the top of the hill, 

It's probably the mother lying flat-eared and still. 

We turn across the headland and circle right around, 

The dog's not seen her so she stays her ground. 

Gawky crows take off, they seem at a loss, 

From the sun-lit field of buttercup gloss. 

Pale dog-rose pink, such a sweet scent, 

From sharp stems blooming and across the path bent. 

The pace now quickens, we're having fun 

As we move from cool hedgerows and out into the sun. 




103

The Next Evening 

These silken grasslands strewn with dock 

A rich haven for insects right round the clock, 

Constant life trials, not yet quite clear, 

I wonder if they have a highlight of the year? 

It's late June and beauty surrounds me again, 

Sights, sounds, sunshine and daylight till ten; 

Dozens of pigeons, their crops full of seed, 

Half heartedly rise, but return to their feed. 

The small listless clouds crossing the warm skies 

And a fresh haze of pollen as the field gently sighs.... 

A trickle of water in the near' parched brook, 

I'm so happy wandering, just taking a look.... 




104

The Sixpence Song 

I'm a country boy who dances and delights in 'derring-do', 

Drinks real ale and prances, though has a caring view. 

Listening to anxieties and answering with a smile 

Doing best to please, persevering all the while. 

Friday night is calling, it's off to meet the boys 

All dressed in white with baldrics and making such a noise! 

Music from the Cotswolds and ale straight from the cask, 

Lift that voice and tankard, Oh! what more could we ask? 

(sung to the tune of “Sing a song of sixpence”) 




105

The Green Hills of Home 

These calm green hills will always call, 

Entice me back, my heart to rule, 

Safe in their depth and family tie, 

Welcomed back after each good-bye. 

....A different slope, by town of rope, 

Also calls me and I hope 

It always will, for there resides 

Daughter and son, the apples of my eyes. 

While driving through wealden landscape 

And rising up to the Hog's Back, 

My eyes and mind can't help to gape, 

At the views beside the well-worn track. 

....Back down west, there's some of the best 

Country in old England to test 

My deep feeling for what is truly home, 

As working pleasure lets me roam. 

Sometimes as I plunge across the plains at night 

Their blank canvas doesn't seem quite right; 

Are they the referees from above, 

Separating the hills that I love? 

....Whatever the case, wherever my base, 

In Dorset I enjoy the pace 

Of life and work set out for me, 

So let us just hope I can stay, roaming free.... 




106

Country Ways 

Cows lying down in the middle of the day, 

Could it be that rain's on its way? 

Or something simpler, like they're all worn out, 

Fed up, bored and don't know what it's all about! 

There's a beautiful orange glow across the sky 

And low wispy clouds bring a tear to the eye, 

What's the old adage? “red sky at night”.... 

“Quick! The barbecue's set the hedge alight!” 

“Whatever you do don't go under that ladder!” 

“I couldn't care less, it doesn't matter!” 

There's a screech of brakes and you're knocked on your back! 

....That ladder was still tied....to someone's roof rack! 

How about the barn owl flying in daylight? 

An omen of bad luck? Of terror or fright? 

What's going to happen? We worry and frown.... 

....Oh! It's just another farm building fallen down! 




107

Hiding Nowhere 

A thought filled mind, like cloud filed sky, 

Transition of life, as time speeds by; 

Lapwings flying like blown newspapers, 

Magpies up to all sorts of capers.... 

The speck on the horizon may never appear, 

Like the drams and ambitions of another year. 

The turn of the wheel, the push of the ram, 

The birth of free life, the bleat of the lamb.... 

Under fierce rays of sun and pull of the moon, 

Before we realized it the tide turned to soon; 

The net had been cast, but to no avail, 

Without the wind's spirit, there'll be no sail.... 

Unless the catch swims to give a free ride 

And pull home our sailors on the ebb tide; 

All that we have can never be kept, 

For the reservoirs emptied while we slept! 

The chanting masses have nothing to say, 

That will force us to stop, or teach us to pray 

That the blue ice will freeze and grow up again 

And the earth stop trembling in so much pain! 

February 2006 




108

I ventured out along leafy lane, 

To see if I could capture again, 

The spirited essence I once had 

While cycling everywhere as a lad. 

Green Lanes Forever 

....It all came back and more besides, 

The enthusing pedalling, the happy rides, 

The freedom from stress that countryside brings, 

The open plan thoughts and other things.... 

....As the wheels swished and took me right back 

To that place somewhere off the beaten track, 

I felt I'd arrived.... as if never left, 

The truth dawned slowly, my anxieties were bereft.... 

I should do it more and to hell with toil, 

Away with the customers that make the blood boil! 

Sort yourselves out, I'm free as a bird, 

I need a green life.... it's not that absurd! 

May 2006 




109

Springing to Life 

A new born lamb with wet ears lying flat, 

Nuzzled by the ewe, while arching her back; 

Her maternal concern doesn't cease to lack 

As the twin arrives, just like that.... 

The other sheep, impassive and grey, 

Their non-committal look has nothing to say, 

While witnessing creation on a spring day, 

We continue to marvel as they walk away. 

That unique gift of life, so clear and true, 

Has a different impact on us and the ewe, 

Probably our perception has a rosy hue? 

Perhaps we've forgotten how stubborn we grew? 

She's looking apprehensive, fearing the worst? 

Now two lambs have risen, shaky at first, 

Then moved to their mother to pacify their thirst 

And soon they're suckling, in her fleece immersed. 

1 st April 2006 




110

Moderation 

I'm as fond of hop as I am of malt, 

And think I am of the art well taught, 

So will take pleasure, for my throat to bless, 

With moderate supping, not to excess. 

I'm also partial to apples, pulped to an ooze 

Then racked up in hogsheads ready to booze, 

Sitting in a circle eating bread, pickles and cheese 

Tipping my tankard on autumn nights such as these! 

(First verse for when out and about Morris dancing, second verse for Chideock cider shed) 




111

Wealden field 

I've passed through Holmwood since before my birth, 

So it's natural I should enjoy that common-land earth. 

With its stunted oaks, its ferns and gorse, 

Sandstone and bogs and clean air of course! 

A place of holly, of deer and jays. 

Somewhere my Springer could run for days, 

A well stocked pond where four road meet, 

Hours of enjoyment for restless feet. 

Here, Grandfather with wild ways and bushy smile 

Once toiled as a common keeper and even lived for a while. 

He knew where to stand to admire theview 

And didn't stray far away his whole life through. 

So perhaps it's that feeling, .... you know the one? 

When you shiver with thought, or weep for fun, 

As I walk across the common with green all around, 

Sensing ancestral vibes emanating from the ground! 




112

Where Have You Been? 

Did you bend a weary knee upon a stile, 

To look out across the sea, for mile after mile 

And see the stars come out one by one, 

To enlighten your mind as the day was done? 

Could you smell the night as it crept on slow, 

Taste the salt air from far below, 

Reaping the reward of being so high, 

So down to earth, yet so near the sky? 

Did you see that cloud go by, 

The one shaped like a horse? 

Though the other wonders of the sky, 

Wouldn't agree of course! 

For by the time it got to them, 

It was just a foggy cloud again. 

Have you landed in work where others have toiled 

Their lives, their limbs and minds so soiled? 

With a gracious acceptance of just being there, 

But cherishing the love of being able to care. 

For I am so lucky to live this life, 

To have fathered children, to have known a wife, 

To have lost, yet gained through troubled times, 

To have lived as a witness within these rhymes. 

21 st May 2006. Sitting in the car park above Cogden Beach, Chesil Bank, with time on my hands waiting 

for Jenny to ring me, for a lift home from a party.... (daughters, ..don't you just love them!) 




113

9:00 pm And All's Well 

A lullaby from song thrushes as I sit upon the logs 

And then, from the rushes, a chorus from the frogs. 

The moon is rising, the sky is grey and cold, 

I'm sure there's no disguising how tomorrow will unfold. 

My spaniel's busy searching, scents masked by laden thorn, 

Hedgerow birds are perching, last words before the morn'. 

Half a dozen Canada geese with wind beneath their wings, 

My open mind is now at peace, blessed with favourite things. 




114

Adieu! 

Thinking man's glory .... the start of a story.... 

The capacity of a great mind doesn't always reflect its attributes to 

understanding simple things. I am completely awestruck by people with 

superior knowledge but often feel richer in heart rending and soul burning 

issues. It may be that when my heart was rent my soul wasn't quite ready to be 

sacrificed.... if that doesn't teach a new way of thinking, then nothing can. 

Constant exploration of grey areas? Is this layman's philosophy? Or the 

poet's fertile mind.... regularly ploughed and seeded? All aspects of history 

should be reviewed from time to time, including personal, even if only to 

encourage root growth.... (to be continued??) To coin a good friend's phrase: 

“It would be churlish not to....!” 

Second Bookend 




115

Just a Mo(nu)ment 

(Hampshire) 

The winds of time, a rush of tide, within the mystery of space, 

I try to rhyme, to set aside, a reason to stand in this place? 

I've driven by, work on my mind, without room in head heart or soul 

And now I try, to search and find, the right words for an empty hole. 

Now I am here, it is so clear that this tranquil glade calms my mind.... 

....And takes me back, behind the pack of running dogs, intent on prey 

And through the birch, we sight a church? a light? a darkness? .... on this day. 

A nordic man, with hunting clan, peasants and gentry, side by side; 

The running men, they hunt again, with shouts and whistles to those who ride 

Through dappled green, I'm within the scene, on scent of hart, boar or hind? 

This great forest life, my hunting knife; both treasured, so firm in my mind; 

The sound of horse, through water course, the warmth of sun through cloak 

on limb, 

The onward hunt, with my liege in front, my proud heart swells to follow him. 

The good King Bill, what strength of will, so pale of face, bright eyes and red 

hair! 

From north to south, we have good health, good life, good lands, good country 

fayre. 

The longdogs bay, I hear them say: “the quarry is in sight and now we shall 

fight” 

With renewed hope, down a damp slope, only to see a great stag in a wild 

eyed flight.... 

The horses stop, their riders drop, all is quiet now as lords and serfs bow.... 

He lays so still, my good King Bill, the tears of Sir Walter in anguish begin to 

well, 

Why you Rufus? and not one of us? to be slain whilst happy, on horse and at 

peace? 

Fate, so narrow, sped that arrow, into the wrong 'dear' heart, death, quick 

release.... 

We gather round, blood on the ground, of our lord, master, fair friend to 

admire.... 

His last foray, a bright August day, these Hampshire men will sorely miss you 

Sire. 

....”Come Purkis, take heart, go fetch your ox cart, we carry Rufus, arrow in 

breast, 

Let us go forth, we travel due north, to Winchester's great church to lay him to 

rest.” 

Bob Martin, from “The Next Book of Bits” (2007-?) 



116

The Rufus Stone 

New Forest, Hampshire 

A triangular monolith inscribed on all sides, made of iron 

and enclosing the original memorial, 

First side 

“Here stood the 

oak tree, on which 

an arrow shot by 

Sir Walter Tyrrell 

at a stag, glanced 

and struck King 

William the 

second, surnamed 

Rufus, on the 

breast, of which he 

instantly died, on 

the 2 nd day of 

August Anno 

1100” 

Second side 

“King William the 

second, surnamed 

Rufus being slain 

as before related, 

was laid in a cart 

belonging to one 

Purkis and drawn 

from hence to 

Winchester and 

buried in the 

cathedral church 

of that city.” 



Third side 

That the spot 

where an event so 

memorable might 

not hereafter be 

forgotten the 

enclosed stone 

was set up by 

John Lord 

Delaware who had 

seen the tree 

growing in this 

place.” 

____ 

This stone having 

been mutilated 

and the 

inscriptions on 

each of its three 

sides defaced, this 

more durable 

memorial with the 

original 

inscriptions was 

erected in the year 

1841 by Wm 

Sturgess Bourne 

Warden 

117

The Isle Of Purbeck 

Come on down to Herston Yard Farm, 

Amid rolling hills of beauty and charm, 

Visit the safe beach beneath the old town 

Or climb up to Durlston if you prefer high ground. 

From Herston Halt just down the lane 

Steam into Swanage or Corfe, on the train, 

To see Britain's favourite ruin, Corfe Castle, 

Partly destroyed by a Parliamentarian rascal! 

For Oliver Cromwell and his roundhead guys 

Were the final reason for Lady Bankes' demise. 

Just past the castle, across from the rail bridge, 

Take the road through Church Knowle to Kimmeridge. 

Find the nodding donkey and Clavell Tower, 

The historic folly and modern day power. 

All encompassed by a rusty sandstone beach 

With its own museum for the children to teach. 

Up to Kingston, a vista from a hill, 

One to remember, an awesome thrill; 

Then cycle past age old quarries, 

Dust kicked up by stone laden lorries. 

Out to Worth, for ale at the Square' 

And a clifftop walk with bracing air, 

From Winspit to Emmetts and back to the pub 

Then Langton Matravers and Ship Inn for some grub. 

Back at Old Harry by Studland Bay, 

You can see the Isle of Wight on a clear day. 

I've cycled the hills and watched surging foam, 

It's hard for a Surrey country boy to go back home. 

Celebration of The Buckland Shag Morris Men 20 th anniversary tour of Purbeck by Bobby Martin, 

Buckland Shag 



118

THE BUCKLAND SHAG SONGBOOK - Perth Morris Men

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