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1 of approx 8 results

Black Frost

Ralph Vaughan Williams Manuscript Collection (at British Library) (RVW2/6/6)
First Line: It's fare you well dark (?) winter
Performer:
Date: 30 Aug 1911
Collector: Vaughan Williams, Ralph
Roud No: 1034
URL:

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2 of approx 8 results

The Morris Dance

Thomas Fairman Ordish Manuscript Collection (TFO/1/12/2C)
First Line:
Performer:
Date:
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Roud No:
URL:

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(2) Dances [1]

The Morris Dance

“The courts of Kings for stately measures: the city for light heeles and nimble footing: the country for shuffling dances: western men for gambols:

[1] (BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE. For accounts of the Morris dance, see Douce, Illustrations to Shakespeare; Brand, Pop. Antiquities; Burne, Shropshire Folk-Lore; strut, Sports and Pastimes. See also Chambers, Med. Stage,I,ch.9. ( Mr Chambers thinks the Sword Dance and the Mossis dance are variants of the same performance). Those wishing to learn the dances described in this chapter will find Mr Cecil Sharp’s Morris Book, Parts I,II,III, and IV, and The Country Dance Book, Parts I. and II, an invaluable help. I have followed Mr. Sharp’s plan in describing the dances and in making diagrams, hoping this may prove convenient to those who are already familiar with his books on the subject. Where tunes are not given for the dances below, they are obtainable in modern publications, such as Mr Sharp’s Country Dance Tunes ( Novello), or Kerr’s Merry Melodies for the violin ( published in Glasgow).)

[Pencil note:] Christmas or Whitsuntide

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137                THE FOLK-LORE OF HEREFORDSHIRE

Middlesex men for tricks above grounde: Essex men for hay: Lancashire for hornpipes: Worcestershire for bagpipes: but Herefordshire for a Morris dance puts down, not onlt all Kent but very near( if one had line enough to measure it), three quarters of Christendom.” So says the author of an old pamphlet, describing the famous Morris dance which took place on the racecourse at Hereford in 1609. The pamphlet is entitled, Old Meg of Herefordshire for a Maid Marian, Hereford Towne for a Morris Daunce, or Twelve Morris Dauncers in Herefordshire of Twelve Hundred years old. The author is chiefly concerned with the ages and descriptions of the dancers, rather than the dance itself. The dresses worn are thus described:-

“ The musicians and the twelve dancers had long coats of the old fashion, high sleeves gathered at the elbow, and hanging sleeves behind, the stuff, red buffin, striped with white girdles, with white stockings, white and red roses to their shoes; the one six, a white jew’s cap with a jewel, and a long red feather; the other, a scarlet jew’s cap, with a jewel and a white feather; so the hobby-horse, and so the Mayd-Marian was attired in colours; the whifflers had long staves, white and red”.

Whifflers were “marshals of the field,” to keep order. Bells are mentioned, but not staves. The only Morris dancers I can discover in the country at the present time are from Brimfield. They dance at Christmas. I saw them at Orleton on Boxing Day, 1909. The dance was the same as the four-handed reel ( see below), except that when the dancers faced each other, in part 2, they did not dance, but tapped their staves together to the music. Apparently this is but a fragmentary survival of the original Morris. The men say that they remember when the dancers wore smock frocks, breeches, white stockings and gaiters, with soft felt hats, and there was formerly a fool. Those I saw had their faces blacked, with white patches, and wore diagonal coloured sashes, but no bells or steamers.

An old fiddler at Dilwyn who danced with Morris men there and at Leominster, said they always had a fool, with a bell tied on behind; they all wore bells, and carried sticks. They danced at Christmas, when they were out of work owing to prolonged frost, and they wore shirts decorated profusely with streamers and coloured rosettes; the music was a fiddle. The dance was quite different from that of the Orleton dancers, being distinguishable from a country dance by the stick rapping only (see description below.)

An old man in the Workhouse at Ross(1907), a native of Walford, remembered Morris dancers. They danced at Whitsuntide in the Ross district: there were parish wakes, or feasts, every day in Whitsun week, which they attended. They wore shirts with coloured ribbons, and had “ruggles” (little bells) at the knees.

It was also customary in North Herefordshire for men to go Morris dancing during a hard frost, when masons and others could not work, in order to raise money.

t = Transcribed

Transcription

See all of transcription

(2) Dances [1]

The Morris Dance

“The courts of Kings for stately measures: the city for light heeles and nimble footing: the country for shuffling dances: western men for gambols:

[1] (BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE. For accounts of the Morris dance, see Douce, Illustrations to Shakespeare; Brand, Pop. Antiquities; Burne, Shropshire Folk-Lore; strut, Sports and Pastimes. See also Chambers, Med. Stage,I,ch.9. ( Mr Chambers thinks the Sword Dance and the Mossis dance are variants of the same performance). Those wishing to learn the dances described in this chapter will find Mr Cecil Sharp’s Morris Book, Parts I,II,III, and IV, and The Country Dance Book, Parts I. and II, an invaluable help. I have followed Mr. Sharp’s plan in describing the dances and in making diagrams, hoping this may prove convenient to those who are already familiar with his books on the subject. Where tunes are not given for the dances below, they are obtainable in modern publications, such as Mr Sharp’s Country Dance Tunes ( Novello), or Kerr’s Merry Melodies for the violin ( published in Glasgow).)

[Pencil note:] Christmas or Whitsuntide

137                THE FOLK-LORE OF HEREFORDSHIRE

Middlesex men for tricks above grounde: Essex men for hay: Lancashire for hornpipes: Worcestershire for bagpipes: but Herefordshire for a Morris dance puts down, not onlt all Kent but very near( if one had line enough to measure it), three quarters of Christendom.” So says the author of an old pamphlet, describing the famous Morris dance which took place on the racecourse at Hereford in 1609. The pamphlet is entitled, Old Meg of Herefordshire for a Maid Marian, Hereford Towne for a Morris Daunce, or Twelve Morris Dauncers in Herefordshire of Twelve Hundred years old. The author is chiefly concerned with the ages and descriptions of the dancers, rather than the dance itself. The dresses worn are thus described:-

“ The musicians and the twelve dancers had long coats of the old fashion, high sleeves gathered at the elbow, and hanging sleeves behind, the stuff, red buffin, striped with white girdles, with white stockings, white and red roses to their shoes; the one six, a white jew’s cap with a jewel, and a long red feather; the other, a scarlet jew’s cap, with a jewel and a white feather; so the hobby-horse, and so the Mayd-Marian was attired in colours; the whifflers had long staves, white and red”.

Whifflers were “marshals of the field,” to keep order. Bells are mentioned, but not staves. The only Morris dancers I can discover in the country at the present time are from Brimfield. They dance at Christmas. I saw them at Orleton on Boxing Day, 1909. The dance was the same as the four-handed reel ( see below), except that when the dancers faced each other, in part 2, they did not dance, but tapped their staves together to the music. Apparently this is but a fragmentary survival of the original Morris. The men say that they remember when the dancers wore smock frocks, breeches, white stockings and gaiters, with soft felt hats, and there was formerly a fool. Those I saw had their faces blacked, with white patches, and wore diagonal coloured sashes, but no bells or steamers.

An old fiddler at Dilwyn who danced with Morris men there and at Leominster, said they always had a fool, with a bell tied on behind; they all wore bells, and carried sticks. They danced at Christmas, when they were out of work owing to prolonged frost, and they wore shirts decorated profusely with streamers and coloured rosettes; the music was a fiddle. The dance was quite different from that of the Orleton dancers, being distinguishable from a country dance by the stick rapping only (see description below.)

An old man in the Workhouse at Ross(1907), a native of Walford, remembered Morris dancers. They danced at Whitsuntide in the Ross district: there were parish wakes, or feasts, every day in Whitsun week, which they attended. They wore shirts with coloured ribbons, and had “ruggles” (little bells) at the knees.

It was also customary in North Herefordshire for men to go Morris dancing during a hard frost, when masons and others could not work, in order to raise money.

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3 of approx 8 results

Poor Old Horse [D]

Sabine Baring-Gould Manuscript Collection (SBG/1/1/360)
First Line:
Performer:
Date:
Place:
Collector:
Roud No: 513
URL:

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4.​My shoulders were both fat, fine, smooth & round,
But now corrupted, rotten & unsound.
And my hollow hoof that was both smooth & hard,
Now by the blacksmith is most badly scarred
Oh! Ball. Oh!

5.​He is old, he is both dull & slow
He eats my hay, and he spoils my straw,
For neither is he fit in my cart to draw,
Whip him, skin him & let him a hunting go.
Oh! Ball. Oh!

6.​My skin unto the huntsmen I bequeath,
And my flesh unto the hounds I freely give.
My body swift that has run so many miles,
It was over hedges, ditches, likewise gates & stiles,
Oh! Ball. Oh!

“Lamentation of an old Horse”, Broadside by E. Hodges, Seven Dials.


C.
1.​When I was a young horse all in my youthful pride​(prime?) sic
My master used to ride on me, he thought me very fine
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

2.​My clothing that was once of the shining superfine,
Then I stood in my stable, & did in my glory shine,
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

3.​My feeding it was once of the best corn & hay
That grew in the fields and in the meadows gay,
But now I am grown old, & scarcely can I crawl,
I am forced to eat the coarsest grass that grows against the wall
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

4.​He is old, & he is cold, & he is both dull & slow,
He has eat up all my hay, & has spoiled all my straw,
Nor either is he fit to draw with my team,
Take him, & whip him, is now my master’s theme,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

5.​To the huntsman now shall go his old hide & shoes
Likewise his tender carcass the hounds will not refuse,
His body that so swiftly has run so many miles,
Over hedges, ditches, brooks, & cleared bridges, gates & stiles,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

“The Poor old Horse” Broadside by Such, No. 42.


D.
Another & fuller version in Bell’s “Songs & Ballads of the Peasantry” p. 184.

E.
Breton song “Testamant ar Gazee coz” Luzel, Chansons de la Basse Bretagne 1890, II. p.89.

F.
1.​This is my poor old horse, that has carried me many a mile,
Over hedges, over ditches, over barred gate & stile;
But now he has grown old and his nature does decay,
He’s forced to snap at the shortest grass that grows along the way,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

2.​His coat it once was of linsey-wolsey fine
His mane it grew at length, & his body it did shine,
His pretty little shoulders that were so plump & round,
They’re both worn out & aged; I’m afraid he is not sound,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

3.​His keep it was once of the best of corn & hay,
That ever grew in cornfields, or in the meadows gay.
But now into the open fields he is obliged to go,
To stand all sorts of weathers, either rain or frost or snow,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

4.​His hide unto the tanner I will so freely give,
His body to the dogs; I would rather him die than live;
So we’ll hang him, whip him, strip him, and a hunting let him go;
He’s neither fit to ride upon, or in a team to draw
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

“It is an old Christmas custom in Nottinghamshire & Derbyshire to go from house to house with the skull of a horse, painted black & red, and supported on a wooden foreleg. A man in a stooping posture & covered with a cloth, represents the body of the horse, &, from the inside, snaps its formidable jaws at the company. The custom also survives in Sth. Wales but the tune is different. There are many variations in the words. This is a Nottinghamshire version.” M. H. Mason, “Nursery Rhymes & Country Songs” Metzler 1877.
Baring-Gould Ms. Ref. PC 1. 163(77)

Transcription by Martin and Shan Graebe

t = Transcribed

Transcription

See all of transcription

4.​My shoulders were both fat, fine, smooth & round,
But now corrupted, rotten & unsound.
And my hollow hoof that was both smooth & hard,
Now by the blacksmith is most badly scarred
Oh! Ball. Oh!

5.​He is old, he is both dull & slow
He eats my hay, and he spoils my straw,
For neither is he fit in my cart to draw,
Whip him, skin him & let him a hunting go.
Oh! Ball. Oh!

6.​My skin unto the huntsmen I bequeath,
And my flesh unto the hounds I freely give.
My body swift that has run so many miles,
It was over hedges, ditches, likewise gates & stiles,
Oh! Ball. Oh!

“Lamentation of an old Horse”, Broadside by E. Hodges, Seven Dials.


C.
1.​When I was a young horse all in my youthful pride​(prime?) sic
My master used to ride on me, he thought me very fine
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

2.​My clothing that was once of the shining superfine,
Then I stood in my stable, & did in my glory shine,
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

3.​My feeding it was once of the best corn & hay
That grew in the fields and in the meadows gay,
But now I am grown old, & scarcely can I crawl,
I am forced to eat the coarsest grass that grows against the wall
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

4.​He is old, & he is cold, & he is both dull & slow,
He has eat up all my hay, & has spoiled all my straw,
Nor either is he fit to draw with my team,
Take him, & whip him, is now my master’s theme,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

5.​To the huntsman now shall go his old hide & shoes
Likewise his tender carcass the hounds will not refuse,
His body that so swiftly has run so many miles,
Over hedges, ditches, brooks, & cleared bridges, gates & stiles,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

“The Poor old Horse” Broadside by Such, No. 42.


D.
Another & fuller version in Bell’s “Songs & Ballads of the Peasantry” p. 184.

E.
Breton song “Testamant ar Gazee coz” Luzel, Chansons de la Basse Bretagne 1890, II. p.89.

F.
1.​This is my poor old horse, that has carried me many a mile,
Over hedges, over ditches, over barred gate & stile;
But now he has grown old and his nature does decay,
He’s forced to snap at the shortest grass that grows along the way,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

2.​His coat it once was of linsey-wolsey fine
His mane it grew at length, & his body it did shine,
His pretty little shoulders that were so plump & round,
They’re both worn out & aged; I’m afraid he is not sound,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

3.​His keep it was once of the best of corn & hay,
That ever grew in cornfields, or in the meadows gay.
But now into the open fields he is obliged to go,
To stand all sorts of weathers, either rain or frost or snow,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

4.​His hide unto the tanner I will so freely give,
His body to the dogs; I would rather him die than live;
So we’ll hang him, whip him, strip him, and a hunting let him go;
He’s neither fit to ride upon, or in a team to draw
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

“It is an old Christmas custom in Nottinghamshire & Derbyshire to go from house to house with the skull of a horse, painted black & red, and supported on a wooden foreleg. A man in a stooping posture & covered with a cloth, represents the body of the horse, &, from the inside, snaps its formidable jaws at the company. The custom also survives in Sth. Wales but the tune is different. There are many variations in the words. This is a Nottinghamshire version.” M. H. Mason, “Nursery Rhymes & Country Songs” Metzler 1877.
Baring-Gould Ms. Ref. PC 1. 163(77)

Transcription by Martin and Shan Graebe

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Permanent URL: https://www.vwml.org/record/SBG/1/1/360

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4 of approx 8 results

Poor Old Horse [E]

Sabine Baring-Gould Manuscript Collection (SBG/1/1/361)
First Line:
Performer:
Date: 1890
Place: France : Brittany
Collector:
Roud No: 513
URL:

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4.​My shoulders were both fat, fine, smooth & round,
But now corrupted, rotten & unsound.
And my hollow hoof that was both smooth & hard,
Now by the blacksmith is most badly scarred
Oh! Ball. Oh!

5.​He is old, he is both dull & slow
He eats my hay, and he spoils my straw,
For neither is he fit in my cart to draw,
Whip him, skin him & let him a hunting go.
Oh! Ball. Oh!

6.​My skin unto the huntsmen I bequeath,
And my flesh unto the hounds I freely give.
My body swift that has run so many miles,
It was over hedges, ditches, likewise gates & stiles,
Oh! Ball. Oh!

“Lamentation of an old Horse”, Broadside by E. Hodges, Seven Dials.


C.
1.​When I was a young horse all in my youthful pride​(prime?) sic
My master used to ride on me, he thought me very fine
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

2.​My clothing that was once of the shining superfine,
Then I stood in my stable, & did in my glory shine,
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

3.​My feeding it was once of the best corn & hay
That grew in the fields and in the meadows gay,
But now I am grown old, & scarcely can I crawl,
I am forced to eat the coarsest grass that grows against the wall
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

4.​He is old, & he is cold, & he is both dull & slow,
He has eat up all my hay, & has spoiled all my straw,
Nor either is he fit to draw with my team,
Take him, & whip him, is now my master’s theme,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

5.​To the huntsman now shall go his old hide & shoes
Likewise his tender carcass the hounds will not refuse,
His body that so swiftly has run so many miles,
Over hedges, ditches, brooks, & cleared bridges, gates & stiles,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

“The Poor old Horse” Broadside by Such, No. 42.


D.
Another & fuller version in Bell’s “Songs & Ballads of the Peasantry” p. 184.

E.
Breton song “Testamant ar Gazee coz” Luzel, Chansons de la Basse Bretagne 1890, II. p.89.

F.
1.​This is my poor old horse, that has carried me many a mile,
Over hedges, over ditches, over barred gate & stile;
But now he has grown old and his nature does decay,
He’s forced to snap at the shortest grass that grows along the way,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

2.​His coat it once was of linsey-wolsey fine
His mane it grew at length, & his body it did shine,
His pretty little shoulders that were so plump & round,
They’re both worn out & aged; I’m afraid he is not sound,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

3.​His keep it was once of the best of corn & hay,
That ever grew in cornfields, or in the meadows gay.
But now into the open fields he is obliged to go,
To stand all sorts of weathers, either rain or frost or snow,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

4.​His hide unto the tanner I will so freely give,
His body to the dogs; I would rather him die than live;
So we’ll hang him, whip him, strip him, and a hunting let him go;
He’s neither fit to ride upon, or in a team to draw
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

“It is an old Christmas custom in Nottinghamshire & Derbyshire to go from house to house with the skull of a horse, painted black & red, and supported on a wooden foreleg. A man in a stooping posture & covered with a cloth, represents the body of the horse, &, from the inside, snaps its formidable jaws at the company. The custom also survives in Sth. Wales but the tune is different. There are many variations in the words. This is a Nottinghamshire version.” M. H. Mason, “Nursery Rhymes & Country Songs” Metzler 1877.
Baring-Gould Ms. Ref. PC 1. 163(77)

Transcription by Martin and Shan Graebe

t = Transcribed

Transcription

See all of transcription

4.​My shoulders were both fat, fine, smooth & round,
But now corrupted, rotten & unsound.
And my hollow hoof that was both smooth & hard,
Now by the blacksmith is most badly scarred
Oh! Ball. Oh!

5.​He is old, he is both dull & slow
He eats my hay, and he spoils my straw,
For neither is he fit in my cart to draw,
Whip him, skin him & let him a hunting go.
Oh! Ball. Oh!

6.​My skin unto the huntsmen I bequeath,
And my flesh unto the hounds I freely give.
My body swift that has run so many miles,
It was over hedges, ditches, likewise gates & stiles,
Oh! Ball. Oh!

“Lamentation of an old Horse”, Broadside by E. Hodges, Seven Dials.


C.
1.​When I was a young horse all in my youthful pride​(prime?) sic
My master used to ride on me, he thought me very fine
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

2.​My clothing that was once of the shining superfine,
Then I stood in my stable, & did in my glory shine,
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

3.​My feeding it was once of the best corn & hay
That grew in the fields and in the meadows gay,
But now I am grown old, & scarcely can I crawl,
I am forced to eat the coarsest grass that grows against the wall
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

4.​He is old, & he is cold, & he is both dull & slow,
He has eat up all my hay, & has spoiled all my straw,
Nor either is he fit to draw with my team,
Take him, & whip him, is now my master’s theme,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

5.​To the huntsman now shall go his old hide & shoes
Likewise his tender carcass the hounds will not refuse,
His body that so swiftly has run so many miles,
Over hedges, ditches, brooks, & cleared bridges, gates & stiles,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

“The Poor old Horse” Broadside by Such, No. 42.


D.
Another & fuller version in Bell’s “Songs & Ballads of the Peasantry” p. 184.

E.
Breton song “Testamant ar Gazee coz” Luzel, Chansons de la Basse Bretagne 1890, II. p.89.

F.
1.​This is my poor old horse, that has carried me many a mile,
Over hedges, over ditches, over barred gate & stile;
But now he has grown old and his nature does decay,
He’s forced to snap at the shortest grass that grows along the way,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

2.​His coat it once was of linsey-wolsey fine
His mane it grew at length, & his body it did shine,
His pretty little shoulders that were so plump & round,
They’re both worn out & aged; I’m afraid he is not sound,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

3.​His keep it was once of the best of corn & hay,
That ever grew in cornfields, or in the meadows gay.
But now into the open fields he is obliged to go,
To stand all sorts of weathers, either rain or frost or snow,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

4.​His hide unto the tanner I will so freely give,
His body to the dogs; I would rather him die than live;
So we’ll hang him, whip him, strip him, and a hunting let him go;
He’s neither fit to ride upon, or in a team to draw
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

“It is an old Christmas custom in Nottinghamshire & Derbyshire to go from house to house with the skull of a horse, painted black & red, and supported on a wooden foreleg. A man in a stooping posture & covered with a cloth, represents the body of the horse, &, from the inside, snaps its formidable jaws at the company. The custom also survives in Sth. Wales but the tune is different. There are many variations in the words. This is a Nottinghamshire version.” M. H. Mason, “Nursery Rhymes & Country Songs” Metzler 1877.
Baring-Gould Ms. Ref. PC 1. 163(77)

Transcription by Martin and Shan Graebe

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Permanent URL: https://www.vwml.org/record/SBG/1/1/361

Please note: None of materials on vwml.org have been censored. The contents do not reflect the opinions and views held by the English Folk Dance and Song Society, or any of The Full English partner organisations.
5 of approx 8 results

Poor Old Horse [C]

Sabine Baring-Gould Manuscript Collection (SBG/1/1/359)
First Line: When I was a young horse all in my youthful pride (prime?)
Performer:
Date:
Place:
Collector:
Roud No: 513
URL:

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1 media item

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4.​My shoulders were both fat, fine, smooth & round,
But now corrupted, rotten & unsound.
And my hollow hoof that was both smooth & hard,
Now by the blacksmith is most badly scarred
Oh! Ball. Oh!

5.​He is old, he is both dull & slow
He eats my hay, and he spoils my straw,
For neither is he fit in my cart to draw,
Whip him, skin him & let him a hunting go.
Oh! Ball. Oh!

6.​My skin unto the huntsmen I bequeath,
And my flesh unto the hounds I freely give.
My body swift that has run so many miles,
It was over hedges, ditches, likewise gates & stiles,
Oh! Ball. Oh!

“Lamentation of an old Horse”, Broadside by E. Hodges, Seven Dials.


C.
1.​When I was a young horse all in my youthful pride​(prime?) sic
My master used to ride on me, he thought me very fine
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

2.​My clothing that was once of the shining superfine,
Then I stood in my stable, & did in my glory shine,
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

3.​My feeding it was once of the best corn & hay
That grew in the fields and in the meadows gay,
But now I am grown old, & scarcely can I crawl,
I am forced to eat the coarsest grass that grows against the wall
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

4.​He is old, & he is cold, & he is both dull & slow,
He has eat up all my hay, & has spoiled all my straw,
Nor either is he fit to draw with my team,
Take him, & whip him, is now my master’s theme,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

5.​To the huntsman now shall go his old hide & shoes
Likewise his tender carcass the hounds will not refuse,
His body that so swiftly has run so many miles,
Over hedges, ditches, brooks, & cleared bridges, gates & stiles,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

“The Poor old Horse” Broadside by Such, No. 42.


D.
Another & fuller version in Bell’s “Songs & Ballads of the Peasantry” p. 184.

E.
Breton song “Testamant ar Gazee coz” Luzel, Chansons de la Basse Bretagne 1890, II. p.89.

F.
1.​This is my poor old horse, that has carried me many a mile,
Over hedges, over ditches, over barred gate & stile;
But now he has grown old and his nature does decay,
He’s forced to snap at the shortest grass that grows along the way,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

2.​His coat it once was of linsey-wolsey fine
His mane it grew at length, & his body it did shine,
His pretty little shoulders that were so plump & round,
They’re both worn out & aged; I’m afraid he is not sound,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

3.​His keep it was once of the best of corn & hay,
That ever grew in cornfields, or in the meadows gay.
But now into the open fields he is obliged to go,
To stand all sorts of weathers, either rain or frost or snow,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

4.​His hide unto the tanner I will so freely give,
His body to the dogs; I would rather him die than live;
So we’ll hang him, whip him, strip him, and a hunting let him go;
He’s neither fit to ride upon, or in a team to draw
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

“It is an old Christmas custom in Nottinghamshire & Derbyshire to go from house to house with the skull of a horse, painted black & red, and supported on a wooden foreleg. A man in a stooping posture & covered with a cloth, represents the body of the horse, &, from the inside, snaps its formidable jaws at the company. The custom also survives in Sth. Wales but the tune is different. There are many variations in the words. This is a Nottinghamshire version.” M. H. Mason, “Nursery Rhymes & Country Songs” Metzler 1877.
Baring-Gould Ms. Ref. PC 1. 163(77)

Transcription by Martin and Shan Graebe

t = Transcribed

Transcription

See all of transcription

4.​My shoulders were both fat, fine, smooth & round,
But now corrupted, rotten & unsound.
And my hollow hoof that was both smooth & hard,
Now by the blacksmith is most badly scarred
Oh! Ball. Oh!

5.​He is old, he is both dull & slow
He eats my hay, and he spoils my straw,
For neither is he fit in my cart to draw,
Whip him, skin him & let him a hunting go.
Oh! Ball. Oh!

6.​My skin unto the huntsmen I bequeath,
And my flesh unto the hounds I freely give.
My body swift that has run so many miles,
It was over hedges, ditches, likewise gates & stiles,
Oh! Ball. Oh!

“Lamentation of an old Horse”, Broadside by E. Hodges, Seven Dials.


C.
1.​When I was a young horse all in my youthful pride​(prime?) sic
My master used to ride on me, he thought me very fine
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

2.​My clothing that was once of the shining superfine,
Then I stood in my stable, & did in my glory shine,
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

3.​My feeding it was once of the best corn & hay
That grew in the fields and in the meadows gay,
But now I am grown old, & scarcely can I crawl,
I am forced to eat the coarsest grass that grows against the wall
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

4.​He is old, & he is cold, & he is both dull & slow,
He has eat up all my hay, & has spoiled all my straw,
Nor either is he fit to draw with my team,
Take him, & whip him, is now my master’s theme,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

5.​To the huntsman now shall go his old hide & shoes
Likewise his tender carcass the hounds will not refuse,
His body that so swiftly has run so many miles,
Over hedges, ditches, brooks, & cleared bridges, gates & stiles,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

“The Poor old Horse” Broadside by Such, No. 42.


D.
Another & fuller version in Bell’s “Songs & Ballads of the Peasantry” p. 184.

E.
Breton song “Testamant ar Gazee coz” Luzel, Chansons de la Basse Bretagne 1890, II. p.89.

F.
1.​This is my poor old horse, that has carried me many a mile,
Over hedges, over ditches, over barred gate & stile;
But now he has grown old and his nature does decay,
He’s forced to snap at the shortest grass that grows along the way,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

2.​His coat it once was of linsey-wolsey fine
His mane it grew at length, & his body it did shine,
His pretty little shoulders that were so plump & round,
They’re both worn out & aged; I’m afraid he is not sound,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

3.​His keep it was once of the best of corn & hay,
That ever grew in cornfields, or in the meadows gay.
But now into the open fields he is obliged to go,
To stand all sorts of weathers, either rain or frost or snow,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

4.​His hide unto the tanner I will so freely give,
His body to the dogs; I would rather him die than live;
So we’ll hang him, whip him, strip him, and a hunting let him go;
He’s neither fit to ride upon, or in a team to draw
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

“It is an old Christmas custom in Nottinghamshire & Derbyshire to go from house to house with the skull of a horse, painted black & red, and supported on a wooden foreleg. A man in a stooping posture & covered with a cloth, represents the body of the horse, &, from the inside, snaps its formidable jaws at the company. The custom also survives in Sth. Wales but the tune is different. There are many variations in the words. This is a Nottinghamshire version.” M. H. Mason, “Nursery Rhymes & Country Songs” Metzler 1877.
Baring-Gould Ms. Ref. PC 1. 163(77)

Transcription by Martin and Shan Graebe

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6 of approx 8 results

Poor Old Horse [B]

Sabine Baring-Gould Manuscript Collection (SBG/1/1/358)
First Line: My clothing once was lindsey wolsey fine
Performer:
Date:
Place:
Collector:
Roud No: 513
URL:

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4.​My shoulders were both fat, fine, smooth & round,
But now corrupted, rotten & unsound.
And my hollow hoof that was both smooth & hard,
Now by the blacksmith is most badly scarred
Oh! Ball. Oh!

5.​He is old, he is both dull & slow
He eats my hay, and he spoils my straw,
For neither is he fit in my cart to draw,
Whip him, skin him & let him a hunting go.
Oh! Ball. Oh!

6.​My skin unto the huntsmen I bequeath,
And my flesh unto the hounds I freely give.
My body swift that has run so many miles,
It was over hedges, ditches, likewise gates & stiles,
Oh! Ball. Oh!

“Lamentation of an old Horse”, Broadside by E. Hodges, Seven Dials.


C.
1.​When I was a young horse all in my youthful pride​(prime?) sic
My master used to ride on me, he thought me very fine
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

2.​My clothing that was once of the shining superfine,
Then I stood in my stable, & did in my glory shine,
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

3.​My feeding it was once of the best corn & hay
That grew in the fields and in the meadows gay,
But now I am grown old, & scarcely can I crawl,
I am forced to eat the coarsest grass that grows against the wall
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

4.​He is old, & he is cold, & he is both dull & slow,
He has eat up all my hay, & has spoiled all my straw,
Nor either is he fit to draw with my team,
Take him, & whip him, is now my master’s theme,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

5.​To the huntsman now shall go his old hide & shoes
Likewise his tender carcass the hounds will not refuse,
His body that so swiftly has run so many miles,
Over hedges, ditches, brooks, & cleared bridges, gates & stiles,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

“The Poor old Horse” Broadside by Such, No. 42.


D.
Another & fuller version in Bell’s “Songs & Ballads of the Peasantry” p. 184.

E.
Breton song “Testamant ar Gazee coz” Luzel, Chansons de la Basse Bretagne 1890, II. p.89.

F.
1.​This is my poor old horse, that has carried me many a mile,
Over hedges, over ditches, over barred gate & stile;
But now he has grown old and his nature does decay,
He’s forced to snap at the shortest grass that grows along the way,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

2.​His coat it once was of linsey-wolsey fine
His mane it grew at length, & his body it did shine,
His pretty little shoulders that were so plump & round,
They’re both worn out & aged; I’m afraid he is not sound,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

3.​His keep it was once of the best of corn & hay,
That ever grew in cornfields, or in the meadows gay.
But now into the open fields he is obliged to go,
To stand all sorts of weathers, either rain or frost or snow,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

4.​His hide unto the tanner I will so freely give,
His body to the dogs; I would rather him die than live;
So we’ll hang him, whip him, strip him, and a hunting let him go;
He’s neither fit to ride upon, or in a team to draw
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

“It is an old Christmas custom in Nottinghamshire & Derbyshire to go from house to house with the skull of a horse, painted black & red, and supported on a wooden foreleg. A man in a stooping posture & covered with a cloth, represents the body of the horse, &, from the inside, snaps its formidable jaws at the company. The custom also survives in Sth. Wales but the tune is different. There are many variations in the words. This is a Nottinghamshire version.” M. H. Mason, “Nursery Rhymes & Country Songs” Metzler 1877.
Baring-Gould Ms. Ref. PC 1. 163(77)

Transcription by Martin and Shan Graebe

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t

LXXVII Poor Old Horse

 

 

1.​O it’s old & it is cold, & it’s linkey lankey low,
He eateth all my hay, & he spoileth all my stro’
O neither is he fit at all, all in my card to dro’
We’ll sell him, or swop him, chop him, or let him hunting go.
​Poor old horse! let him die!

2.​O once I lied in stable warm, all on good straw & hay,
When fields were green & flowery, & meadows all were gay,
But now there’s no such living, that I can find at all,
I’m forced to munch the nettles, as grow on the kennel wall,
​Poor old horse! till I die.

3.​O once I lied in stable, free from cold & winter storm
But now have no such usage, to keep me well & warm,
I’m forced to lie in the open field, in the cold winter wind
……………………………………………………..
​Poor old horse! till I die.

4.​My shoulders that were once, so glossy & so round,
They now are very rotten, I’m not accounted sound,
So now that I grow old, my teeth go to decay,
My master frowns upon me, & I often hear him say,
​Poor old horse! let him die.

5.​My shoes & my skin, the huntsman he doth crave,
My flesh & bones to the dogs I very freely give
For I have followed after them for many & many a mile
O’er hedges & o’er ditches, and over gate & stile.
​Poor old horse, must I die?

Taken down from Matthew Baker, old cripple, Lew Down, 1888


B.
1.​My clothing once was linsey wolsey fine
My hair hung lank, & my coat it did shine,
But now I’m grown old, and nature doth decay,
My master he doth frown, & thus I heard him say,
Oh! Ball. Oh!

2.​My lodging once was in a stable warm,
To keep my tender limbs from cold & harm,
But now in open fields I am forced to go,
For to bear the cold winter’s hail, rain & snow.
Oh! Ball. Oh!

3.​My feeding once was of the best of hay,
That ever grew in fields or meadows gay,
But no such comfort can I find at all
For now I forced to gnaw the short grass that grows against the wall
Oh! Ball. Oh!

4.​My shoulders were both fat, fine, smooth & round,
But now corrupted, rotten & unsound.
And my hollow hoof that was both smooth & hard,
Now by the blacksmith is most badly scarred
Oh! Ball. Oh!

5.​He is old, he is both dull & slow
He eats my hay, and he spoils my straw,
For neither is he fit in my cart to draw,
Whip him, skin him & let him a hunting go.
Oh! Ball. Oh!

6.​My skin unto the huntsmen I bequeath,
And my flesh unto the hounds I freely give.
My body swift that has run so many miles,
It was over hedges, ditches, likewise gates & stiles,
Oh! Ball. Oh!

“Lamentation of an old Horse”, Broadside by E. Hodges, Seven Dials.

Transcription by Martin and Shan Graebe

Transcribed tune
Note that the tunes transcriptions system is under development. We are currently testing it and hope to make further improvements to it.

t = Transcribed

Transcription

See all of transcription

4.​My shoulders were both fat, fine, smooth & round,
But now corrupted, rotten & unsound.
And my hollow hoof that was both smooth & hard,
Now by the blacksmith is most badly scarred
Oh! Ball. Oh!

5.​He is old, he is both dull & slow
He eats my hay, and he spoils my straw,
For neither is he fit in my cart to draw,
Whip him, skin him & let him a hunting go.
Oh! Ball. Oh!

6.​My skin unto the huntsmen I bequeath,
And my flesh unto the hounds I freely give.
My body swift that has run so many miles,
It was over hedges, ditches, likewise gates & stiles,
Oh! Ball. Oh!

“Lamentation of an old Horse”, Broadside by E. Hodges, Seven Dials.


C.
1.​When I was a young horse all in my youthful pride​(prime?) sic
My master used to ride on me, he thought me very fine
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

2.​My clothing that was once of the shining superfine,
Then I stood in my stable, & did in my glory shine,
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

3.​My feeding it was once of the best corn & hay
That grew in the fields and in the meadows gay,
But now I am grown old, & scarcely can I crawl,
I am forced to eat the coarsest grass that grows against the wall
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

4.​He is old, & he is cold, & he is both dull & slow,
He has eat up all my hay, & has spoiled all my straw,
Nor either is he fit to draw with my team,
Take him, & whip him, is now my master’s theme,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

5.​To the huntsman now shall go his old hide & shoes
Likewise his tender carcass the hounds will not refuse,
His body that so swiftly has run so many miles,
Over hedges, ditches, brooks, & cleared bridges, gates & stiles,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

“The Poor old Horse” Broadside by Such, No. 42.


D.
Another & fuller version in Bell’s “Songs & Ballads of the Peasantry” p. 184.

E.
Breton song “Testamant ar Gazee coz” Luzel, Chansons de la Basse Bretagne 1890, II. p.89.

F.
1.​This is my poor old horse, that has carried me many a mile,
Over hedges, over ditches, over barred gate & stile;
But now he has grown old and his nature does decay,
He’s forced to snap at the shortest grass that grows along the way,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

2.​His coat it once was of linsey-wolsey fine
His mane it grew at length, & his body it did shine,
His pretty little shoulders that were so plump & round,
They’re both worn out & aged; I’m afraid he is not sound,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

3.​His keep it was once of the best of corn & hay,
That ever grew in cornfields, or in the meadows gay.
But now into the open fields he is obliged to go,
To stand all sorts of weathers, either rain or frost or snow,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

4.​His hide unto the tanner I will so freely give,
His body to the dogs; I would rather him die than live;
So we’ll hang him, whip him, strip him, and a hunting let him go;
He’s neither fit to ride upon, or in a team to draw
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

“It is an old Christmas custom in Nottinghamshire & Derbyshire to go from house to house with the skull of a horse, painted black & red, and supported on a wooden foreleg. A man in a stooping posture & covered with a cloth, represents the body of the horse, &, from the inside, snaps its formidable jaws at the company. The custom also survives in Sth. Wales but the tune is different. There are many variations in the words. This is a Nottinghamshire version.” M. H. Mason, “Nursery Rhymes & Country Songs” Metzler 1877.
Baring-Gould Ms. Ref. PC 1. 163(77)

Transcription by Martin and Shan Graebe

LXXVII Poor Old Horse

 

 

1.​O it’s old & it is cold, & it’s linkey lankey low,
He eateth all my hay, & he spoileth all my stro’
O neither is he fit at all, all in my card to dro’
We’ll sell him, or swop him, chop him, or let him hunting go.
​Poor old horse! let him die!

2.​O once I lied in stable warm, all on good straw & hay,
When fields were green & flowery, & meadows all were gay,
But now there’s no such living, that I can find at all,
I’m forced to munch the nettles, as grow on the kennel wall,
​Poor old horse! till I die.

3.​O once I lied in stable, free from cold & winter storm
But now have no such usage, to keep me well & warm,
I’m forced to lie in the open field, in the cold winter wind
……………………………………………………..
​Poor old horse! till I die.

4.​My shoulders that were once, so glossy & so round,
They now are very rotten, I’m not accounted sound,
So now that I grow old, my teeth go to decay,
My master frowns upon me, & I often hear him say,
​Poor old horse! let him die.

5.​My shoes & my skin, the huntsman he doth crave,
My flesh & bones to the dogs I very freely give
For I have followed after them for many & many a mile
O’er hedges & o’er ditches, and over gate & stile.
​Poor old horse, must I die?

Taken down from Matthew Baker, old cripple, Lew Down, 1888


B.
1.​My clothing once was linsey wolsey fine
My hair hung lank, & my coat it did shine,
But now I’m grown old, and nature doth decay,
My master he doth frown, & thus I heard him say,
Oh! Ball. Oh!

2.​My lodging once was in a stable warm,
To keep my tender limbs from cold & harm,
But now in open fields I am forced to go,
For to bear the cold winter’s hail, rain & snow.
Oh! Ball. Oh!

3.​My feeding once was of the best of hay,
That ever grew in fields or meadows gay,
But no such comfort can I find at all
For now I forced to gnaw the short grass that grows against the wall
Oh! Ball. Oh!

4.​My shoulders were both fat, fine, smooth & round,
But now corrupted, rotten & unsound.
And my hollow hoof that was both smooth & hard,
Now by the blacksmith is most badly scarred
Oh! Ball. Oh!

5.​He is old, he is both dull & slow
He eats my hay, and he spoils my straw,
For neither is he fit in my cart to draw,
Whip him, skin him & let him a hunting go.
Oh! Ball. Oh!

6.​My skin unto the huntsmen I bequeath,
And my flesh unto the hounds I freely give.
My body swift that has run so many miles,
It was over hedges, ditches, likewise gates & stiles,
Oh! Ball. Oh!

“Lamentation of an old Horse”, Broadside by E. Hodges, Seven Dials.

Transcription by Martin and Shan Graebe

Transcribed tune

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Permanent URL: https://www.vwml.org/record/SBG/1/1/358

Please note: None of materials on vwml.org have been censored. The contents do not reflect the opinions and views held by the English Folk Dance and Song Society, or any of The Full English partner organisations.
7 of approx 8 results

Askham Richard Sword Dance

Cecil Sharp Manuscript Collection (at Clare College, Cambridge) (CJS2/11/3/12)
First Line:
Performer: Bland, Sam | Calvert, Will | Gillson, Robert
Date:
Place: England : Yorkshire : Askham Richard | England : Yorkshire : Escrick
Collector: Sharp, Cecil J.
Roud No:
URL:

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Askham Richard Sword Dance

Sam Bland (76) of Askham Richard said that dances dancers had not been out here for 40 or more years. He was leader.
The dancers numbered 8 and wore white tunics or coats ornamented with red braid, [simply] , and white trousers with red stripe. High
hats covered with coloured ribbons and wooden swords of [ash], 3 ft long , with handles made with additional blacks screwed on as at Poppleton.
There was also a Besom Betty and an Ol Fool, a King and Queen and [Poet/politician] with spectacles and high boots.
The Betty swept away the snow before they danced ("We used to enjoy [anoches] paper but it wanted to be frost and snow") The Fool carried a long stick with a bladder attached to it with which he hit the lads to keep them back. There were also two "beggars" with tin boxes and two men carrying a large banner on two poles with the inscription "God Speed the Plough"
When they moved from place to place they went in procession in the following order (1) Banner

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13/

(2) Band consisting of two fiddles and a drummer.
(3) King and Queen arm in arm
(4) Besom Betty and Old Fool
(5) the eight dancers in single file.
The eight dancers in their high hats placed small and variously coloured flags on the points of their [ ? ] running the [ ? ] in the slot (hem)
Then they held up and waved as they marched, the flags being about the size of [Landups] they advanced in this way.
All marched along in sigle file slowly. the last man then heyed up to the top passing [more/men] quickly than the others.
There the last but one and so forth, last man heying up again as dancer no 1 had passed him. In this threading movement all moved forward slowly.
the men who were heying moving faster than the others when they came to their [position], the procession was broken up, the dancers removed their flags, took off their high hats and substituted [for] wreaths of artificial flowers.
They then formed up in time, whereat they were "sung on" by the "singer -on" who called them out one by one in front of the line of dancers each of

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the latter on being called following him in order.
Will Calvert (72) (3 Railway View, [Brighouse] York) was 'singer on".
Apparently [having] he [initiated] this having learned the [trick] from Bobby Davidson of [ ? ] where he lived for 7 years.
He sang the tune [&] the words of the last verse which was all he could remember;-
In comes little [twinkleholm]
That comical lad
Which men now can call
he likes to be a lad and takes after his dad
And [follows] the young ladies right well.

 

At the finish of the song he stamped his feet and cried " Now my [lads], present, rattle up" and the dance began.

The Dance
Fig 1
All formed up in a [hurry], swords on right shoulders and walked round clockwise (8 bars)

Clash.
Usual way moving around clockwise (8 bars)
over your own sword
As usual and round

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15/
Single Over

   3 4
2       5
1        6
   8--7

8 lowers his sword, nos 1,6,2,5,3 &[4] in order jumps it, nos 1,2 &3 turning to their left, nos 4,5,&6 to their right
no 7 then comes [round] and so [forth]

Single under

Same as above

The Lock

All face centre, raise arms over heads and tie, hilt underpoint, as at [Helby].
The leader raises Lock by his own hilt in right hand and enters ring and moves round on his axis while rest dance round clockwise. (8 bars)
No 1 then takes his place in ring, lowers Lock horizontally to waist level, all take their own hilts and walk round (8 bars) and draw on 2' beat of last bar
This was first figure

The notaton 8--7 i presume to mean dancers 8 & 7 both have lowered swords.

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16/

Second Figure

 

The Clash
As before

 

Double Over
Usual way

 

Double Under
Usual way

 

Back Lock
Usual way followed by same ritual as in Fig 1

 

Third Figure

 

The Clash
As Above

 

New Roll
This done as at Helby [Malrecend] all [La] [harmonising]
as they move up and down, alternatively over and under

 

Ride Lock
Same as Stride Lock at Poppleton

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17/

during the last Lock the fool creep into the ring during the [ ? ] and puts his head into the Lock, When the swords are drawn he tumbles down and feigns death.
There is a cry for the doctor , the 10-pound [doctor] who comes and brings him back to life, pouring the contents of a bottle down his throat, this was acted in the usual mummers way.

 

Will Calvert accounted that they had 6 not 8 dancers but this was no doubt [ ? ] with [ ? ] practice As singer on he carried a metal sword.

 

 

Robert Gillson told me there were 8 dancers and he played the fiddle for the Askham Richard, Askham [reyon] men. He is now living at latter place.

He gave me the air he usually played which is a [version] of 'The Girl I Left Behind Me' and British Grenadiers (see Tune Book). Calvert said they always played [Teshie] Laddie as well but their again may have [been] from his recollections, He sang [Teshie] Laddie as I

 

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18/
I noted it from [Bill] Bland , however also mentions [soldier] laddie and hummed a few bars so no doubt this and 'The Girl' were both played. Probably a third tune was played to the New Roll.

 

The dancers would go out for a full week beginning on the first Monday after Xmas. Once they went for a fortnight and got as far as Leeds. They made a lot of money
"But what we got we spent".
He explained the usual week's itinerary as follows; Copmanthorpe, Colton, Appleton, Walten Parne, Tadcentre (staying the night).
Newton Hyme, Thorpe, Barten, Cliffall (spend night)
Bramham, the two Hemicks, [ ? ] Scarecroft (night)
Thorner, Haremad, Bilton, Tacksmith (night)
Mancton, Russeith, Askham Richard

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19/
I saw Mr Bland again on Feb 17 and got further particulars as follows;
There were 4 locks, side lock, ride lock, shoulder lock, back lock.

Apparently side lock was a full turn cl. face centre , separate hands & tie.

 

Ride Lock,; all face c cl each places point of his own sword between [legs], all go round, put left legs on own sword, face centre and tie.

 

Shoulder Lock; all face c cl place sword over right shoulder, go round each holding point in front with l hand, then make full turn cl (?) face centre separate hands and tie.

 

Back Lock; rather rather doubtful, but I am putting this was same as [sleghts] lock only done high at shoulder, but for Bland said they put arms over each other's shoulder "-cuddled each other".

Thus was and actual figure not noted before in wh. distinctive movements were double sword down and double sword up, done apparently as at Handsmouth except that
first man jumped sword and didn't [clap]

King wore soldiers clothes with [sash ]over his shoulder.
Only one time while dancing cc [soldier] laddie others played when marching at beginning King said" I am king and a conquerer, and [ ? ] advance' to wh. clown replied" and I am a clown , an ugly clown and I've come to see you dance" Then dance began.

They danced throughout [i.e.] with springy running steps.
Betty in old frock and bonnet, When Dr failed to cure clown, B [ ? ] his face with cream saying "Ah 'll cure him" and she did.
The Clash was done both ways cl and c cl but without changing hands though the turn was outward ie c cl.

t = Transcribed

Transcription

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Askham Richard Sword Dance

Sam Bland (76) of Askham Richard said that dances dancers had not been out here for 40 or more years. He was leader.
The dancers numbered 8 and wore white tunics or coats ornamented with red braid, [simply] , and white trousers with red stripe. High
hats covered with coloured ribbons and wooden swords of [ash], 3 ft long , with handles made with additional blacks screwed on as at Poppleton.
There was also a Besom Betty and an Ol Fool, a King and Queen and [Poet/politician] with spectacles and high boots.
The Betty swept away the snow before they danced ("We used to enjoy [anoches] paper but it wanted to be frost and snow") The Fool carried a long stick with a bladder attached to it with which he hit the lads to keep them back. There were also two "beggars" with tin boxes and two men carrying a large banner on two poles with the inscription "God Speed the Plough"
When they moved from place to place they went in procession in the following order (1) Banner

13/

(2) Band consisting of two fiddles and a drummer.
(3) King and Queen arm in arm
(4) Besom Betty and Old Fool
(5) the eight dancers in single file.
The eight dancers in their high hats placed small and variously coloured flags on the points of their [ ? ] running the [ ? ] in the slot (hem)
Then they held up and waved as they marched, the flags being about the size of [Landups] they advanced in this way.
All marched along in sigle file slowly. the last man then heyed up to the top passing [more/men] quickly than the others.
There the last but one and so forth, last man heying up again as dancer no 1 had passed him. In this threading movement all moved forward slowly.
the men who were heying moving faster than the others when they came to their [position], the procession was broken up, the dancers removed their flags, took off their high hats and substituted [for] wreaths of artificial flowers.
They then formed up in time, whereat they were "sung on" by the "singer -on" who called them out one by one in front of the line of dancers each of

the latter on being called following him in order.
Will Calvert (72) (3 Railway View, [Brighouse] York) was 'singer on".
Apparently [having] he [initiated] this having learned the [trick] from Bobby Davidson of [ ? ] where he lived for 7 years.
He sang the tune [&] the words of the last verse which was all he could remember;-
In comes little [twinkleholm]
That comical lad
Which men now can call
he likes to be a lad and takes after his dad
And [follows] the young ladies right well.

 

At the finish of the song he stamped his feet and cried " Now my [lads], present, rattle up" and the dance began.

The Dance
Fig 1
All formed up in a [hurry], swords on right shoulders and walked round clockwise (8 bars)

Clash.
Usual way moving around clockwise (8 bars)
over your own sword
As usual and round

15/
Single Over

   3 4
2       5
1        6
   8--7

8 lowers his sword, nos 1,6,2,5,3 &[4] in order jumps it, nos 1,2 &3 turning to their left, nos 4,5,&6 to their right
no 7 then comes [round] and so [forth]

Single under

Same as above

The Lock

All face centre, raise arms over heads and tie, hilt underpoint, as at [Helby].
The leader raises Lock by his own hilt in right hand and enters ring and moves round on his axis while rest dance round clockwise. (8 bars)
No 1 then takes his place in ring, lowers Lock horizontally to waist level, all take their own hilts and walk round (8 bars) and draw on 2' beat of last bar
This was first figure

The notaton 8--7 i presume to mean dancers 8 & 7 both have lowered swords.

16/

Second Figure

 

The Clash
As before

 

Double Over
Usual way

 

Double Under
Usual way

 

Back Lock
Usual way followed by same ritual as in Fig 1

 

Third Figure

 

The Clash
As Above

 

New Roll
This done as at Helby [Malrecend] all [La] [harmonising]
as they move up and down, alternatively over and under

 

Ride Lock
Same as Stride Lock at Poppleton

17/

during the last Lock the fool creep into the ring during the [ ? ] and puts his head into the Lock, When the swords are drawn he tumbles down and feigns death.
There is a cry for the doctor , the 10-pound [doctor] who comes and brings him back to life, pouring the contents of a bottle down his throat, this was acted in the usual mummers way.

 

Will Calvert accounted that they had 6 not 8 dancers but this was no doubt [ ? ] with [ ? ] practice As singer on he carried a metal sword.

 

 

Robert Gillson told me there were 8 dancers and he played the fiddle for the Askham Richard, Askham [reyon] men. He is now living at latter place.

He gave me the air he usually played which is a [version] of 'The Girl I Left Behind Me' and British Grenadiers (see Tune Book). Calvert said they always played [Teshie] Laddie as well but their again may have [been] from his recollections, He sang [Teshie] Laddie as I

 

18/
I noted it from [Bill] Bland , however also mentions [soldier] laddie and hummed a few bars so no doubt this and 'The Girl' were both played. Probably a third tune was played to the New Roll.

 

The dancers would go out for a full week beginning on the first Monday after Xmas. Once they went for a fortnight and got as far as Leeds. They made a lot of money
"But what we got we spent".
He explained the usual week's itinerary as follows; Copmanthorpe, Colton, Appleton, Walten Parne, Tadcentre (staying the night).
Newton Hyme, Thorpe, Barten, Cliffall (spend night)
Bramham, the two Hemicks, [ ? ] Scarecroft (night)
Thorner, Haremad, Bilton, Tacksmith (night)
Mancton, Russeith, Askham Richard

19/
I saw Mr Bland again on Feb 17 and got further particulars as follows;
There were 4 locks, side lock, ride lock, shoulder lock, back lock.

Apparently side lock was a full turn cl. face centre , separate hands & tie.

 

Ride Lock,; all face c cl each places point of his own sword between [legs], all go round, put left legs on own sword, face centre and tie.

 

Shoulder Lock; all face c cl place sword over right shoulder, go round each holding point in front with l hand, then make full turn cl (?) face centre separate hands and tie.

 

Back Lock; rather rather doubtful, but I am putting this was same as [sleghts] lock only done high at shoulder, but for Bland said they put arms over each other's shoulder "-cuddled each other".

Thus was and actual figure not noted before in wh. distinctive movements were double sword down and double sword up, done apparently as at Handsmouth except that
first man jumped sword and didn't [clap]

King wore soldiers clothes with [sash ]over his shoulder.
Only one time while dancing cc [soldier] laddie others played when marching at beginning King said" I am king and a conquerer, and [ ? ] advance' to wh. clown replied" and I am a clown , an ugly clown and I've come to see you dance" Then dance began.

They danced throughout [i.e.] with springy running steps.
Betty in old frock and bonnet, When Dr failed to cure clown, B [ ? ] his face with cream saying "Ah 'll cure him" and she did.
The Clash was done both ways cl and c cl but without changing hands though the turn was outward ie c cl.

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8 of approx 8 results

Poor Old Horse [F]

Sabine Baring-Gould Manuscript Collection (SBG/1/1/362)
First Line: This is my poor old horse, that has carried me many a mile
Performer:
Date: 1877
Place:
Collector:
Roud No: 513
URL:

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LXXVII Poor Old Horse

 

 

1.​O it’s old & it is cold, & it’s linkey lankey low,
He eateth all my hay, & he spoileth all my stro’
O neither is he fit at all, all in my card to dro’
We’ll sell him, or swop him, chop him, or let him hunting go.
​Poor old horse! let him die!

2.​O once I lied in stable warm, all on good straw & hay,
When fields were green & flowery, & meadows all were gay,
But now there’s no such living, that I can find at all,
I’m forced to munch the nettles, as grow on the kennel wall,
​Poor old horse! till I die.

3.​O once I lied in stable, free from cold & winter storm
But now have no such usage, to keep me well & warm,
I’m forced to lie in the open field, in the cold winter wind
……………………………………………………..
​Poor old horse! till I die.

4.​My shoulders that were once, so glossy & so round,
They now are very rotten, I’m not accounted sound,
So now that I grow old, my teeth go to decay,
My master frowns upon me, & I often hear him say,
​Poor old horse! let him die.

5.​My shoes & my skin, the huntsman he doth crave,
My flesh & bones to the dogs I very freely give
For I have followed after them for many & many a mile
O’er hedges & o’er ditches, and over gate & stile.
​Poor old horse, must I die?

Taken down from Matthew Baker, old cripple, Lew Down, 1888


B.
1.​My clothing once was linsey wolsey fine
My hair hung lank, & my coat it did shine,
But now I’m grown old, and nature doth decay,
My master he doth frown, & thus I heard him say,
Oh! Ball. Oh!

2.​My lodging once was in a stable warm,
To keep my tender limbs from cold & harm,
But now in open fields I am forced to go,
For to bear the cold winter’s hail, rain & snow.
Oh! Ball. Oh!

3.​My feeding once was of the best of hay,
That ever grew in fields or meadows gay,
But no such comfort can I find at all
For now I forced to gnaw the short grass that grows against the wall
Oh! Ball. Oh!

4.​My shoulders were both fat, fine, smooth & round,
But now corrupted, rotten & unsound.
And my hollow hoof that was both smooth & hard,
Now by the blacksmith is most badly scarred
Oh! Ball. Oh!

5.​He is old, he is both dull & slow
He eats my hay, and he spoils my straw,
For neither is he fit in my cart to draw,
Whip him, skin him & let him a hunting go.
Oh! Ball. Oh!

6.​My skin unto the huntsmen I bequeath,
And my flesh unto the hounds I freely give.
My body swift that has run so many miles,
It was over hedges, ditches, likewise gates & stiles,
Oh! Ball. Oh!

“Lamentation of an old Horse”, Broadside by E. Hodges, Seven Dials.

Transcription by Martin and Shan Graebe

Transcribed tune
Note that the tunes transcriptions system is under development. We are currently testing it and hope to make further improvements to it.
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t

4.​My shoulders were both fat, fine, smooth & round,
But now corrupted, rotten & unsound.
And my hollow hoof that was both smooth & hard,
Now by the blacksmith is most badly scarred
Oh! Ball. Oh!

5.​He is old, he is both dull & slow
He eats my hay, and he spoils my straw,
For neither is he fit in my cart to draw,
Whip him, skin him & let him a hunting go.
Oh! Ball. Oh!

6.​My skin unto the huntsmen I bequeath,
And my flesh unto the hounds I freely give.
My body swift that has run so many miles,
It was over hedges, ditches, likewise gates & stiles,
Oh! Ball. Oh!

“Lamentation of an old Horse”, Broadside by E. Hodges, Seven Dials.


C.
1.​When I was a young horse all in my youthful pride​(prime?) sic
My master used to ride on me, he thought me very fine
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

2.​My clothing that was once of the shining superfine,
Then I stood in my stable, & did in my glory shine,
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

3.​My feeding it was once of the best corn & hay
That grew in the fields and in the meadows gay,
But now I am grown old, & scarcely can I crawl,
I am forced to eat the coarsest grass that grows against the wall
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

4.​He is old, & he is cold, & he is both dull & slow,
He has eat up all my hay, & has spoiled all my straw,
Nor either is he fit to draw with my team,
Take him, & whip him, is now my master’s theme,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

5.​To the huntsman now shall go his old hide & shoes
Likewise his tender carcass the hounds will not refuse,
His body that so swiftly has run so many miles,
Over hedges, ditches, brooks, & cleared bridges, gates & stiles,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

“The Poor old Horse” Broadside by Such, No. 42.


D.
Another & fuller version in Bell’s “Songs & Ballads of the Peasantry” p. 184.

E.
Breton song “Testamant ar Gazee coz” Luzel, Chansons de la Basse Bretagne 1890, II. p.89.

F.
1.​This is my poor old horse, that has carried me many a mile,
Over hedges, over ditches, over barred gate & stile;
But now he has grown old and his nature does decay,
He’s forced to snap at the shortest grass that grows along the way,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

2.​His coat it once was of linsey-wolsey fine
His mane it grew at length, & his body it did shine,
His pretty little shoulders that were so plump & round,
They’re both worn out & aged; I’m afraid he is not sound,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

3.​His keep it was once of the best of corn & hay,
That ever grew in cornfields, or in the meadows gay.
But now into the open fields he is obliged to go,
To stand all sorts of weathers, either rain or frost or snow,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

4.​His hide unto the tanner I will so freely give,
His body to the dogs; I would rather him die than live;
So we’ll hang him, whip him, strip him, and a hunting let him go;
He’s neither fit to ride upon, or in a team to draw
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

“It is an old Christmas custom in Nottinghamshire & Derbyshire to go from house to house with the skull of a horse, painted black & red, and supported on a wooden foreleg. A man in a stooping posture & covered with a cloth, represents the body of the horse, &, from the inside, snaps its formidable jaws at the company. The custom also survives in Sth. Wales but the tune is different. There are many variations in the words. This is a Nottinghamshire version.” M. H. Mason, “Nursery Rhymes & Country Songs” Metzler 1877.
Baring-Gould Ms. Ref. PC 1. 163(77)

Transcription by Martin and Shan Graebe

t = Transcribed

Transcription

See all of transcription

LXXVII Poor Old Horse

 

 

1.​O it’s old & it is cold, & it’s linkey lankey low,
He eateth all my hay, & he spoileth all my stro’
O neither is he fit at all, all in my card to dro’
We’ll sell him, or swop him, chop him, or let him hunting go.
​Poor old horse! let him die!

2.​O once I lied in stable warm, all on good straw & hay,
When fields were green & flowery, & meadows all were gay,
But now there’s no such living, that I can find at all,
I’m forced to munch the nettles, as grow on the kennel wall,
​Poor old horse! till I die.

3.​O once I lied in stable, free from cold & winter storm
But now have no such usage, to keep me well & warm,
I’m forced to lie in the open field, in the cold winter wind
……………………………………………………..
​Poor old horse! till I die.

4.​My shoulders that were once, so glossy & so round,
They now are very rotten, I’m not accounted sound,
So now that I grow old, my teeth go to decay,
My master frowns upon me, & I often hear him say,
​Poor old horse! let him die.

5.​My shoes & my skin, the huntsman he doth crave,
My flesh & bones to the dogs I very freely give
For I have followed after them for many & many a mile
O’er hedges & o’er ditches, and over gate & stile.
​Poor old horse, must I die?

Taken down from Matthew Baker, old cripple, Lew Down, 1888


B.
1.​My clothing once was linsey wolsey fine
My hair hung lank, & my coat it did shine,
But now I’m grown old, and nature doth decay,
My master he doth frown, & thus I heard him say,
Oh! Ball. Oh!

2.​My lodging once was in a stable warm,
To keep my tender limbs from cold & harm,
But now in open fields I am forced to go,
For to bear the cold winter’s hail, rain & snow.
Oh! Ball. Oh!

3.​My feeding once was of the best of hay,
That ever grew in fields or meadows gay,
But no such comfort can I find at all
For now I forced to gnaw the short grass that grows against the wall
Oh! Ball. Oh!

4.​My shoulders were both fat, fine, smooth & round,
But now corrupted, rotten & unsound.
And my hollow hoof that was both smooth & hard,
Now by the blacksmith is most badly scarred
Oh! Ball. Oh!

5.​He is old, he is both dull & slow
He eats my hay, and he spoils my straw,
For neither is he fit in my cart to draw,
Whip him, skin him & let him a hunting go.
Oh! Ball. Oh!

6.​My skin unto the huntsmen I bequeath,
And my flesh unto the hounds I freely give.
My body swift that has run so many miles,
It was over hedges, ditches, likewise gates & stiles,
Oh! Ball. Oh!

“Lamentation of an old Horse”, Broadside by E. Hodges, Seven Dials.

Transcription by Martin and Shan Graebe

Transcribed tune

4.​My shoulders were both fat, fine, smooth & round,
But now corrupted, rotten & unsound.
And my hollow hoof that was both smooth & hard,
Now by the blacksmith is most badly scarred
Oh! Ball. Oh!

5.​He is old, he is both dull & slow
He eats my hay, and he spoils my straw,
For neither is he fit in my cart to draw,
Whip him, skin him & let him a hunting go.
Oh! Ball. Oh!

6.​My skin unto the huntsmen I bequeath,
And my flesh unto the hounds I freely give.
My body swift that has run so many miles,
It was over hedges, ditches, likewise gates & stiles,
Oh! Ball. Oh!

“Lamentation of an old Horse”, Broadside by E. Hodges, Seven Dials.


C.
1.​When I was a young horse all in my youthful pride​(prime?) sic
My master used to ride on me, he thought me very fine
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

2.​My clothing that was once of the shining superfine,
Then I stood in my stable, & did in my glory shine,
But now I am grown old, & nature does decay,
My master frowns upon me, & these words I heard him say,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

3.​My feeding it was once of the best corn & hay
That grew in the fields and in the meadows gay,
But now I am grown old, & scarcely can I crawl,
I am forced to eat the coarsest grass that grows against the wall
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

4.​He is old, & he is cold, & he is both dull & slow,
He has eat up all my hay, & has spoiled all my straw,
Nor either is he fit to draw with my team,
Take him, & whip him, is now my master’s theme,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

5.​To the huntsman now shall go his old hide & shoes
Likewise his tender carcass the hounds will not refuse,
His body that so swiftly has run so many miles,
Over hedges, ditches, brooks, & cleared bridges, gates & stiles,
Poor old horse! poor old horse!

“The Poor old Horse” Broadside by Such, No. 42.


D.
Another & fuller version in Bell’s “Songs & Ballads of the Peasantry” p. 184.

E.
Breton song “Testamant ar Gazee coz” Luzel, Chansons de la Basse Bretagne 1890, II. p.89.

F.
1.​This is my poor old horse, that has carried me many a mile,
Over hedges, over ditches, over barred gate & stile;
But now he has grown old and his nature does decay,
He’s forced to snap at the shortest grass that grows along the way,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

2.​His coat it once was of linsey-wolsey fine
His mane it grew at length, & his body it did shine,
His pretty little shoulders that were so plump & round,
They’re both worn out & aged; I’m afraid he is not sound,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

3.​His keep it was once of the best of corn & hay,
That ever grew in cornfields, or in the meadows gay.
But now into the open fields he is obliged to go,
To stand all sorts of weathers, either rain or frost or snow,
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

4.​His hide unto the tanner I will so freely give,
His body to the dogs; I would rather him die than live;
So we’ll hang him, whip him, strip him, and a hunting let him go;
He’s neither fit to ride upon, or in a team to draw
Poor old horse! Poor old horse!

“It is an old Christmas custom in Nottinghamshire & Derbyshire to go from house to house with the skull of a horse, painted black & red, and supported on a wooden foreleg. A man in a stooping posture & covered with a cloth, represents the body of the horse, &, from the inside, snaps its formidable jaws at the company. The custom also survives in Sth. Wales but the tune is different. There are many variations in the words. This is a Nottinghamshire version.” M. H. Mason, “Nursery Rhymes & Country Songs” Metzler 1877.
Baring-Gould Ms. Ref. PC 1. 163(77)

Transcription by Martin and Shan Graebe

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Please note: None of materials on vwml.org have been censored. The contents do not reflect the opinions and views held by the English Folk Dance and Song Society, or any of The Full English partner organisations.