Work or die - a proverb

"Here is Gerard's Bailiff, work or you must die with cold. - Somerset."

Ray 1768

[Can't find out who this horrible Gerard and his Bailiff is - but in a way I am quite glad - His name lives on only in infamy!]

Mention of the White Bird of Oxenham

The White Bird of the Oxenhams - In Baring Gould 1908 by JAMES OXENHAM [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

"...The portrait, painted by the hand of a spectre, and the phantom, whose occasional appearance on earth is mysteriously connected with that terrible portrait, and whose kiss is the signal of death to every successive member of the family to which it belongs, are manifest improvements on such traditions as those of the White Lady of the house of Brandenburg, the Fairy Melusine, whose appearance used constantly to prognosticate the recurrence of mortality in some noble family of Poitou; the White Bird which, as Prince records in his Worthies of Devon, was in the habit of performing the same office for the worshipful lineage of Oxenham."

Extract from - PHANTASMAGORIANA; Ou Recueil d'Historics a? Apparitions, de Spectres, de Revenans, Fantomes, ect. Traduit de FAUemand, par un Amateur. Paris. 2 tomes 12mo. TALES OF THE DEAD, PRINCIPALLY TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH.

In Blackwood's Edingburgh Magazine 1818

Map - Oxenham Arms
Map - South Tawton

Proverb on dying in debt

"Let him hang by the heels."  - Somerset.

(Of a man that dies in debt : His wife leaving all at his death, crying his goods in three markets and three Parish Churches is so free of all his debts). 

Ray 1768

[Not sure how the proverb links to the interpretation!  A friend of my wife said that if you die in debt you have made a profit....  Once again we find the number 3 has massive importance in folklore]

The Irish Lady - a ghostly rock - Part 1

The Irish Lady is in the bottom right of the picture, Land's End is top right. Image by © Copyright Graham Horn and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

"Near Pedn-men-dw, the "Headland of Black Rock," is a curiously-shaped rock, known as the Irish Lady. In days long ago some adventurous sailors from Ireland were shipwrecked at night on this rock, and every soul perished, save a lady, who was seen in the morning sitting on the top of the rock. The storm was still raging, and it was quite impossible to render this solitary sufferer any assistance. Days and nights passed away the people watched the dying woman from the shore, but they could not reach her. At length they saw that her sufferings were at an end; and at last the dead body was washed into the sea. Often, when the winds and waves are high, the fishermen see a lady tranquilly sitting on this rock, with a rose in her mouth; to show, it may be presumed, her perfect indifference to the ragings of tempests..." [cont...]

Hunt 1903

Stabbed with a Bridport Dagger

Bridport, Dorset - by Steve Chapple [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

 

"Stabbed with a Byrdport dagger.

That is, hanged. The best if not the most hemp (for the quantity of ground) growing about Byrdport, a market town in this county. And hence it is that there is an ancient statue (though now disused and neglected) that the cable ropes for the navy-royal were to be made thereabout."

Ray 1768

Map - Bridport


[The proverb is well known enough today to be used in the Wikipedia entry for Bridport.]

Barbara Allen - a version of a song mentioning Totnes

A Church in Totnes - note the flowers in the wall - not roses, but one can imagine... - By User:Wigulf (Own work) [GFDL (www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC-BY-SA-3.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/) or CC-BY-2.5 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons

"IN Totnes town where I was born,
There was a fair maid dwelling,
Made every youth cry "Well-a-way,"
Her name was Barbara Allen.

All in the merry month of May,

When green buds they were swelling,
Young Johnny Gale on his death-bed lay,
For love of Barbara Allen.

He sent his groom unto her then,

To the town where she was dwelling,
" You must come to my master dear,
If your name be Barbara Allen.

For death is printed on his face,

And o'er his heart is stealing :
Then haste away to comfort him,
Oh ! lovely Barbara Allen !"

Though death be printed on his face,

And o'er his heart is stealing,
Yet little better shall he be,
For bonny Barbara Allen.

So slowly, slowly she came up,
And slowly she came nigh him,
And all she said, when up she came,
"Young man, I think you're dying."

He turned his face unto her straight,

With deadly sorrow sighing,
" Oh ! lovely maid, come pity me,
I'm on my death-bed lying."

" If on your death-bed you do lie,
What needs the fate you're telling :
I cannot keep you from your death.
Farewell !" said Barbara Allen.

He turned his face unto the wall,

And deadly pangs he fell in,
"Adieu, adieu, adieu to all !
Adieu to Barbara Allen !"

As she was walking o'er the fields,

She heard the bell a-knelling,
And every stroke did seem to say,
" Unworthy Barbara Allen."

She turned her body round about,

And 'spied the corpse a-coming,
" Lay down, lay down, the corpse," she said,
" That I may look upon him."

With scornful eye, she looked down,

Her cheeks with laughter swelling,
Whilst all his friends cried out " For shame, 

Unworthy Barbara Allen !"

When he was dead and in his grave,

Her heart was struck with sorrow,
" Oh, mother ! mother ! make my bed,
For I shall die to-morrow.

" Hard-hearted creature him to slight,

Who loved me so dearly ;
Oh ! that I'd been more kind to him,
When he was alive and near me."

She, on her death-bed as she lay,

Begged to be buried by him,
And sore repented of the day,
That she did e'er deny him.

"Farewell," she said, "ye virgins all,

And shun the fault I fell in,
Henceforth take warning by the fall,
Of cruel Barbara Allen."

Sung by John Snow, of Tiverton, at a supper party, A.D. 1869.

Hewett 1900

Map - Totnes
Map - Tiverton

[This song contains the line " Oh, mother ! mother ! make my bed, / For I shall die to-morrow." which is very similar to a version of a song about Yarrow I know ("Oh mother dear make me my bed/ make it both long and narrow/ for he who died for me today/ I shall die for him tomorrow") - folk songs are not bothered by copyright, simply by what is best! This song is well known - type it into the EFDSS catalog and you will get 34 results, though of course the town varies massively! A good version is found here.]

The True Lovers (or Lord Lovel) - a folksong mentioning Kenton (possibly the Devon one?)

Kenton Church, Devon, 1982 - from John Salmon [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"Lord Lovel he stood at his own castle gate,
Combing his milk-white steed,
When up came Lady Nancy Bell
To wish her lover good speed speed speed,
To wish her lover good speed.

" Where are you going, Lord Lovel ?" she said,
" Oh, where are you going ?" said she,
" I'm going my Lady Nancy Bell,
Strange countries for to see see see,
Strange countries for to see."

" When will you come back, Lord Lovel ?" she said,
" When will you come back to me ?"
"In a year or two, or three at most,
I'll return to my Lady Nancy cy cy,
I'll return to my Lady Nancy ?"

But he hadden been gone but a year and a day
Strange countries for to see,
When languishing thoughts came into his head
Lady Nancy Bell to see see see,
Lady Nancy Bell to see.

So he rode, and he rode on his milk-white steed,
Till he came to Kenton town,
When he heard St. Andrew's Church bells ring,
And the people all mourning around round round,
And the people all mourning around.

" Oh, what is the matter ?" Lord Lovel, he said,
"Oh, what is the matter ?" said he,
" A Lord's Lady is dead," an old woman said,
" And some call her the Lady Nancy cy cy,
And some call her the Lady Nancy."

So he ordered the grave to be opened wide,
And the shroud to be turned down,
And then he kissed her clay-cold lips,
Till the tears came trickling down down down,
Till the tears came trickling down.

Lady Nancy died as it might be to-day,

Lord Lovel he died as to-morrow,
Lady Nancy, she died out of pure, pure grief,
Lord Lovel, he died out of sorrow sorrow sorrow,
Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow.

Lady Nancy was laid in the cold churchyard,

Lord Lovel was laid in the choir ;
And out of her bosom there grew a red rose,
And out of his a sweet brier rier rier,
And out of his a sweet brier.

They grew and they grew to the church steeple top,

And then they could grow no higher,
So there they entwined in a true-lovers-knot,
For all true lovers to admire mire mire, 

For all true lovers to admire.

Sung by Mr. Ted Ward, at a harvest supper, September, 1893."

Hewett 1900

Map - Kenton

[Some tunes and words exists here, Roud No. 48, one from Sabine Baring-Gould's manuscripts, that looks the same.  It is also Child Ballads N° 75. A good rendition is found here, though 'Kenton Town' is now 'Fair London Town'.  The Kenton here could well be the Kenton in Devon, by Berry Pomeroy Castle, seeing as Hewett collected her stories in Devon, and especially in this area - However Kenton church is dedicated to All Saints, and not specifically to Saint Andrew - it could be the Kenton in London!]

King Simon of Simonsbath

The River Barle at Simonsbath - by Richard Mascall [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"In the centre of the extensive forest of Exmoor, lies the picturesque little village of Simonsbath, which is reputed to be ten miles from everywhere. Here in ancient times the limpid Barle, as now, flowed lazily in summer towards its sister stream the Exe, which it joins in the vicinity of Dulverton. Slowly wending its way through the country of the Red Deer, it forms many a deep pool, sheltered by clumps of alder, while its banks are rich in king fern and bracken. Simon, the king of the western country, often came to disport himself, with his followers, in the refreshing waters. One day, the sovereign ventured too far from his attendants and being seized with cramp sank, and was drowned before assistance arrived. Hence the name of the hamlet Simonsbath."

Hewett 1900

Map - Simonsbath

[This is a little different from Valentines version of the story, where Simon is an Outlaw. Perhaps he was confused by the stories of the Doone outlaws of the area.]

The stories of Devonshire

May Day 2011 near Chagford, Dartmoor - If you want to use this image please attribute this blog

"The marvellous tales of supernatural visitations, death omens, apparitions, charms for healing the sick and the bewitched, with cursings and blessings, would fill many volumes. I can only furnish a few examples and hope they may prove interesting to the reader. 

One dear old country woman, who was never tired of telling me all the witch lore she could collect, one day, said, " Ave I askeed ee missus by telling ee thease yer discoose ? If zo be I've a gallied ee, I be main put about, but whot I dii tell 'e is true. Ess fy tez ! Ess by gor missus ! Ess fy !""

Hewet 1900



[I am rather sad Hewett didn't set about filling these potential volumes - she could have been the Robert Hunt of Devonshire]

Chagford tune - All The Trees They Are So High

Me learning the fiddle...  If you want to use my photos please attribute this blog.

[This tune (a version of a well known folk tune) I encountered in a brilliant database of manuscripts held by the English Folk Dance and Song Society website , digitized by the Devon Traditions Project. Put Chagford in the EFDSS search bar to get the original of this tune.  I was researching for a forthcoming book on Chagford Folklore (more on that later in the year!).

It was collected in 1890 by Sabine Baring-Gould from William Aggett in Chagford. William was described thus by Sabine - 

“…William Aggett, aged 70, crippled and infirm, Chagford.  Certainly illiterate, an old broken down laborer…”   

The words of this song (just one of around 30 he collected from Chagford) are as follows - 

As I looked over my father’s castle wall

I saw four and twenty boys playing at the ball

But my pretty lad he did exceed them all

And my pretty lad is young and he is growing

O father, father dear, if that you think it fit

We’ll send him to the collage for a year yet

And spinning I at home will sit-sit-sit.

Whilst my pretty lad is young and is growing

I’ll buy my love five shirts of the Holland so fine

And all the time I’m sowing, the tears run down the twine

And I will sit and sing of that sweet love of mine,

Whilest my pretty lad is young and is growing

I’ll cast my yellow train away by the root

And I will clothe myself all in a boys suit

And to the collage ?wish?, I will go a foot

When my pretty lad so young still is growing

At the age of fourteen he was a married man

At the age of fifteen he had a little son

At the age of sixteen his thread of life was done

So my pretty lad so young had ceased growing

This actually did make me shed a tear when I read it to my wife. It was the amazing line "And all the time I'm sowing, the tears run down the twine" that did it! Folk music is amazing for getting to the core in just a few simple strides. The last verse didn't help...

And for those with a musical ear who might want to sing it, here is my faltering attempt at one of two complimentary tunes given by William Aggett. This is the tune noted as being sung to the words above. I have done a slight alteration to it by repeating the third bit to make it fit the 4 part structure of the song -

 

 Map - Chagford

p.s. Thanks to my neighbor Terri Windling for an excellent mini review on her blog. Cheers!]

Devon / Westcountry weather lore #17 July (part 1)

Oak tree on Exmoor near Pool Bridge Campsite, in July - if you wish to use my photos please attribute this blog

"If July 1st be wet and rainy, it will continue so for four weeks or more.

He, who in July the cuckoo's voice doth hear,
Will die before he comes next year.

A swarm of bees in July is not worth a fly.

If it rain on July 10th it will rain for seven weeks.

Ne'er trust a July sky.

All the tears St. Swithen can cry (July 15),
St. Bartlemy's mantle can dry (August 14th).

St. Swithen's day if thou be fair,
For forty days 'twill rain na mair,
St. Swithen's day if thou be'st fine,
For forty days it will remain. 

St. James' day gives oysters,

St. Swithen's day gives rain.

He who eats oysters on St. James' day will lack money to the year's end..." [cont.]


Hewett 1900

Devon / Westcountry weather lore #15 May (part 2)

Pulmonaria (lungwort) photgraphed in Devon in May - This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported At the english wiki, it was uploaded by User:Sannse

[cont.]  "...The more thunder in May the less there will be in August and September.

By the first of May young crows will have flown away.

May, come she early, come she late,
Still she'll make the cow to quake.

A May flood never did good.

Shear sheep in May you'll shear them all away.

He who bathes in May, will soon be laid in clay.

A swarm of bees in May is worth a stack of hay.

In May the cuckoo sings all day.

Change not a clout till May be out.

Who doffs his coat on a Winter's day, will gladly put it on in May."

Hewett 1900

Devon / Westcountry weather lore #14 May (part 1)

Pulmonaria (lungwort) photgraphed in Devon in May - This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported At the english wiki, it was uploaded by User:Sannse

"Button to the chin till May be in.

Marry in May you'll rue it for aye.

No wind is colder than a May wind.

For a warm, wet May
The parsons do pray,
For then death-fees
Come their way.
 

A May wet
Was never kind yet.
 

A cold May is kindly
And fills the barn finely.

A cold May is good for corn and hay.

For an East wind in May it is your duty to pray.

A snowstorm in May,
Brings weight to the hay..." [cont...]

Hewet 1900

Devon / Westcountry weather lore #11 - March (part 2)

Wild Daffodils at Steps Bridge in Devon - by Derek Harper [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"A damp warm March will bring much harm to the farm.

Snow in March is bad for fruit and grape wine.

If it does not freeze on the loth of March, a fertile year may be expected.

When flies swarm in March, sheep come by their death.

March dust and March wind, bleach as well as Summer's sun.

March flowers make no Summer bowers.

March borrows three days of April,
The first brings sleet,
The second brings snow, and
The third is the worst day that ever blew.

In a very old magazine I found the following, which leads one to suppose that the cuckoo arrives in March :

In March the giikii begin'th to sarch.
In Aperal he begin'th to tell,
In May he begin'th to lay

In July away he do fly."

Hewett 1900

 

[Again I am unsure that Hewett collected all her rhymes in Devon - I don't know whether her "Very old magazine" would have specified a Devon origin. This rhyme sounds like quite a widespread one now - my dad, who grew up in Northamptonshire, learned "The cuckoo comes in April / and sings its song in May / June it builds its little nest / July it flies away / August / Go it must"]

Devon charm to bring death upon someone

A woman carrying herring to be sold at a market. Cris de Paris, ca 1500. Paris, Biblioteque Nationale, Arsenal, Est. 264 Rés. Fol. 15, pl 13

"SEW into a garment which is worn next to the skin a long thin herring-bone. As the bone dries up, or withers, so will the person wearing it gradually pine away and die."

Hewett 1900

Unlucky in Devon - 50 & 51 (mirrors)

By Car_mirror_at_night.jpg: Mark Sebastian from San Jose (Car_mirror_at_night.jpg) [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

It is unlucky - 

"For a bride to take a last peep at the mirror before starting for church.

To look into a mirror at dusk, or night-time, unless the room is well lighted, is not pleasant : for there is a dread of something uncanny peeping over the shoulder ; such an apparition would portend death."

Hewett 1900

Unlucky in Devon - 48

Candle - By Liam Quin (Quin, Liam: “Pictures of old books” (2003)) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

It is unlucky -

"To see a coffin-ring in a candle : it shews that some member of the household, or a very near relation, will very shortly die."

Hewett 1900

Unlucky in Devon - 34

Magpie (Pica pica) - By David Merrett (originally posted to Flickr as Magpie (Pica Pica)) [CC-BY-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

 It is unlucky -

"To see one magpie in a field, or flying across the road. Four magpies seen at one time presage death."

Hewett 1900

Unlucky in Devon - 26 & 27 (friday)

Laundry - http://www.flickr.com/photos/comedynose/3598741334/sizes/z/ Some rights reserved by comedy_nose

It is unlucky -

"To begin new undertakings on a Friday.
 

To wash clothes on Good Friday. This must be studiously avoided to prevent any member of the family dying before the year is out."

Hewett 1900

Unlucky in Devon - 25

Red Spider Mite - By Trancelius (Own work) [CC-BY-3.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

It is unlucky -

"To kill a small red spider, because this insect is supposed to bring money in its track, hence it is often called the "money-spider."

Hewett 1900