The West Country Man - a slightly anti-monarchy folksong reffrencing Barnstaple Fair

Ash tree leaves - By Pearson Scott Foresman [Public domain],

'There was an old man in the West Country ;
A blatch in his lease the attorney found,
Twas all for the felling of five ashen trees,
And building a house upon his own ground.

The old man, he would to London go,

To shew the King great part of his woe,
To shew the King great part of his grief,
And likewise to ax'n for some relief.

Now when the old man to London came,

The King he was to Windsor gone,
" Why if he had known that I was acoming,
He widden have gone so far from home."

When the old man unto Windsor came,

The gates were locked, and all secure,
" Why let's knock away with my oaken club,
There's room for me to get vore, to be sure."

"Yer sarvint, Maister Nobles!" shew me the king,
"Whot's this the King you sheweth to me ?
I zeed a chap to Barnstaple fair
Looked more like a king than thicky chap there."

"Yer sarvint, Mr. King !" the old man said,

"A blatch in my lease the 'torney' hath found,
And it's all for felling of five ashen trees,
And building a 'ouze pin tap his own ground."

The King he took the lease all up,

And signed it with his hand so free.
" Why, if us ciide a-had it a-diied at home,
Us needn't a-comed to thee."

The old man took the lease all up,

And for to go home was also willing,
But to make the King some sort of amends,
He took out his purse and gave him a shilling,

The King he thanked the noble soul,

And paid him down ten pounds in gold,
And every year for the sake of the sport,
Ten pounds were paid from Windsor Court.

The old man took the lease all up,

And for to go home he now was quite willing,
" But if I'd a-knowed thee'd agot so much money,
The devil-a-bit wid I a-gied thee a shilling."'

For this and the following song I am indebted to the kindness of Mr. W. H. Whiteaway, of Sunnyside, Exmouth, who is good enough to allow me to insert them here. He says, " these songs I give to you, from memory, as I can remember hearing them sung over sixty years ago."

Hewett 1900

Map - Barnstaple Fair

Map - Exmouth

[A tune exists here, Roud No. 18844 and 18877, in Sabine Baring-Gould's manuscripts, that looks like it might fit.]

Devon / Westcountry weather lore - Plant lore and the weather

Beans in Flower - if you want to use my photos please attribute this blog.

"When beans are in bloom brew not your ale.

When elder is white, brew and bake a peck.

When elder is black, brew and bake a sack.

When the sloe-tree is white as a sheet, sow your barley whether it be dry or wet.

Ash before oak, there will be a soak,

Oak before ash, there will be but a splash."

Hewett 1900

Devon / Westcountry weather lore #13 April (part 2)

Mattiscombe Bay, Devon, in April - By Own Herby talk thyme (Own work) [GFDL (www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"Fogs in April foretell a failure of the wheat crop for next year.

One should look for grass in April on the top of an oak, because grass seldom springs well before the oak puts forth its leaves.

Fine warm weather from Easter to Whitsuntide produces much grass and cheap butter.

As the weather is on Ascension Day, so will it be the entire autumn.

If it rains on Good Friday and Easter Day,
There'll be plenty of grass and a little good hay.

April and May between them make bread for all the year.

April rains for men : May for beasts."

Hewett 1900

Oakapple Day in Tiverton (part 1)

Oakapple,  - by Bob Embleton [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"Oakapple Day, otherwise King Charles' Day, was instituted to commemorate the escape of Charles II, on May 29th, 1657, from the hands of Cromwell after the battle of Worcester, by concealing himself in a tufted oak in the woods of Boscobel.

This day was, in the early part of the century, observed at Tiverton, in a rough and boisterous fashion. Doubtless Tiverton was not the only town at which the holiday was kept, but certainly no place could exceed it in mad revelry or wild enthusiasm. 

Directly the day began the bells of St. Peter's Church clanged out furiously, awakening the inhabitants and warning the young folk that it was time to bestir themselves. Quickly donning their oldest garments the men turned out and started to collect faggots of greenery from every avaliable hedge and wood. The fronts of public buildings, shops and dwelling houses were profusely decorated with branches of oak, from which depended scores of oakapples previously gilded or covered with silver paper. Every man wore oak sprigs and a small oakapple in his button-hole and his hat was encircled with a wreath of oak leaves. Woe betide him who neglected to adorn his house or his person.
 

Charles and Cromwell were both befittingly represented.

The Royalist party was distinguished by its proud bearing and smart attire, while the roundhead party was expected to look the reverse of gentlemen. 

Charles, enthroned in a gaily-decorated chair was borne on the shoulders of four stalwart men through the principal streets, and great homage and profound respect were paid to him..." [cont..]

Hewett 1900

The Mistletoe Curse

This mistletoe on an apple tree is growing in Essex

"Mistletoe, a parasite chiefly found on oak and apple trees, was held in great esteem by the Druids, who affirmed that miraculous cures were effected by its means. They ascribed to it a divine origin, and bestowed upon it the name " Curer-of-all-ills." The trees on which it grew, and the birds visiting their branches, were considered sacred, and were thought to be the messengers of the gods. When mistletoe was required in the performance of their sacred offices, great ceremony was observed in separating it from the limbs on which it grew ; the priests using a golden sickle for the purpose.

Devonians believe that their county was cursed by these ancient religious fathers, and the mistletoe forbidden by them to grow in it. Why this curse was laid on Devon there is no record to show. A gentleman possessed an orchard, one half of which is in Devon, and the other in Somersetshire, the division of the counties being marked by a deep ditch. On the Devon side the apple-trees are free, while on the Somerset side this parasite grows in abundance. He has tried in vain to cultivate it on trees in the banned county."

Hewett 1900

Map - Devon / Somerset border

Wistman's Wood and Isabella Courtney

Wistman's Wood - Some rights reserved by Warwick Conway http://www.flickr.com/photos/warcon/4421870196/sizes/l/in/photostream/

"THE countess Isabella [Courtney of Powderham] is accredited with having planted the oaks of Wistman's Wood on Dartmoor."

Hewett 1900

Map - Wistman's Wood
Map - Powderham

The Death of King Rufus - part 4

"...The sun sank; twilight fell on the forest, and still the Red King lay bleeding beneath the oak. A charcoal burner returning from his day's work found the body at last, and putting it into his cart took it to Winchester, where the slain monarch was finally buried.

Kingsley, in his quaint imitation of a ballad of the period, gives a somewhat different version of the story:-

THE RED KING. The king was drinking in Malwood Hall,
There came in a monk before them all;
He thrust by squire, he thrust by knight,
Stood over against the dais aright;
And "The word of the Lord, thou cruel Red King,
The word of the Lord to thee I bring.
A grimly sweven I dreamt yestreen;
I saw thee lie under the hollins green
And through thy heart an arrow been
And out of thy body a smoke did rise,
Which smirched the sunshine out of the skies.
So if thou God's anointed be,
I rede thee unto thy soul thou see:
For mitre and pall thou hast y'sold,
False knight to Christ, for gain and gold;
And for this thy forest were digged down, all
Steading and hamlet and churches tall;
And Christe's poor were ousten forth,
To beg their bread from south to north;
So tarry at home and fast and pray,
Lest fiends hunt thee in the judgment day."
The monk he vanished where he stood;
King William sterte up wroth and wod;
Quod he: "Fools' wits will jump together,
The Hampshire ale and the thunder weather
Have turned the brains of us both, I think;
And monks are curst when they fall to drink.
A lothly sweven I dreamt last night,
How there hoved anigh me a griesly knight,
Did smite me down to the pit of hell,
I shrieked and woke, so fast I fell.
There's Tyrrel as sour as I, perdie,
So he of you all shall hunt with me,
A grimly brace for a hart to see:" The Red King down from Malwood came,
His heart with wine was all aflame,
His eyne were shotten, red as blood,
He rated and swore wherever he rode. They roused a hart, that grimly brace,
A hart of ten, a hart of grease,
Fled over against the kinge's place.
The sun it blinded the kinge's ee,
A fathom beyond his hocks shot he;
"Shoot thou," quod he, "in the fiende's name!
To lose such a quarry were seven years shame!"
And he hove up his arm to mark the game
Tyrrel he shot full light, God wot;
For whether the saints they swerved the shot,
Or whether by treason men knowen not,
But under the arm, in a secret part,
The iron fled through the kinge's heart. Tyrrel he smiled full grim that day,
Quod "Shooting of kings is no bairn's play;"
And he smote in the spurs and fled fast away."

 Valentine (undated)
Map - Malwood Castle
Map - Winchester

The Death of King Rufus - part 3

"... "King of England," said the monk solemnly, "I bear thee a message from the Norman Abbot of St. Peter's at Gloucester, and thank Heaven - long and weary as the journey has been - I have arrived in time. He warns thee, Sire, not to hunt in the New Forest on this holy Lammas morn; for one of his monks has dreamed a dreadful dream about thee. He saw thee lying dead and bleeding beneath an oak in thy New Forest as the blessed sun was sinking, and assuredly if thou huntest to-day it will be for the last time."

The king's brow clouded; he had had an evil dream himself; but the next moment he shook off the superstitious thrill that was foreign to his godless, fearless nature, and smiled scornfully.

"Monks can dream as it suits them," he said; "I am not a child to be scared by visions. To horse, Walter de Poix (Tyrrel). Do you think I am one of those fools who give up their pleasure or business for such matters ? The man is a true monk. He dreameth for the sake of money. Give him a hundred pence, and bid him dream of better fortune to our person."

In vain the monk entreated and expostulated; the huntsmen followed the royal example, and were soon on horseback galloping off, a noisy company, to the forest.

Once within its shades, they divided about, and by-andby William and Walter Tyrrel were alone.

They had had good sport, when towards sunset a hart came bounding by between the king and his companion, who stood at the moment concealed in opposite thickets.

The king drew his bow, but the string broke, and at the twang the noble beast paused and looked round. The rays of the sun now piercing the trees horizontally were in the king's eyes; he raised his bridle hand to shade them, and cried impatiently, "Shoot, Walter, shoot!"

Tyrrel obeyed, and drew his bow at once. But - was his aim untrue? - the arrow glanced aside from a tiny branch, and striking the king under his raised arm pierced him to the breast, and he fell dead from his horse.

Tyrrel flew to his side, but saw at once that Rufus was dead, and that help was vain. Then a sense of his own danger smote him. To slay a king was a dangerous accident in more ways than one. Who would believe so strange a story ? He would not risk the telling it? He sprang on his steed, spurred it to its utmost speed, gained in safety the seashore, and from thence sought refuge in France, finally going to the Holy Land in expiation of his involuntary treason...." [cont...]

Valentine (undated)

Pelynt - Saint Nun's Well - part 2

"...Though the superstitious hinds had spared the well, time and storms of winter had been slowly ruining it. The oak which grew upon its roof had, by its roots, dislodged several stones of the arch, and, swaying about in the wind, had shaken down a large mass of masonry in the interior, and the greater part of the front. On its ruinous condition being made known to the Trelawny family (on whose property it is situated), they ordered the restoration, and the walls were replaced after the original plan. 

This well and a small chapel (the site of which is no longer to be traced, though still pointed out by the older tenantry) were dedicated, it is supposed, to St. Ninnie, or St. Nun, a female saint, who, according to William of Worcester, was the mother of St. David. The people of the neighbourhood knew the well by the names St. Ninnie's, St. Nun's, and Piskies' Well. It is probable that the latter is, after all, the older name, and that the guardianship of the spring was usurped at a later period by the saint whose name it occasionally bears. The water was doubtless used for sacramental purposes; yet its mystic properties, if they were ever supposed to be dispensed by the saint, have been again transferred, in the popular belief, to the Piskies.

A piskie and a pin at Penlynt - please attribute this website if you wish to use my drawing

In the basin of the well may be found a great number of pins, thrown in by those who have visited it out of curiosity, or to avail themselves of the virtues of its waters. A writer, anxious to know what meaning the peasantry attach to this strange custom, on asking a man at work near the spot, was told that it was done "to get the goodwill of the Piskies," who after the tribute of a pin not only ceased to mislead them, but rendered fortunate the operations of husbandry."

Hope 1893

 Map - Saint Nonna's Well, Penlynt

[There appear to be no copyleft images of the well now on the internet. If anyone has a photo I would love to be able to use it.]

Pelynt - Saint Nun's Well - part 1

"On the western side of the beautiful valley through which flows the Trelawny River, and near Hobb's Park, in the parish of Pelynt, Cornwall, is St. Nunn's or St. Ninnie's Well. Its position was, until very lately, to be discovered by the oak and bramble which grew upon its roof. It is entered by a doorway with a stone lintel, and overshadowed by an oak. The front of the well is of a pointed form, and has a rude entrance about 4 feet high, and is spanned above by a single flat stone, which leads into a grotto, with an arched roof. The walls on the interior are draped with the luxuriant fronds of spleen-wort, hart's tongue, and a rich undercovering of liverwort. At the farther end of the floor is a round granite basin with a deeply moulded rim, and ornamented with a series of rings, each enclosing a cross or a ball. The water weeps into it from an opening at the back, and escapes again by a hole in the bottom. This interesting piece of antiquity has been protected by a tradition which we could almost wish to attach to some of our cromlechs and circles in danger of spoliation. 

An old farmer (so runs the legend) once set his eyes upon the granite basin and coveted it, for it was no wrong in his eyes to convert the holy font to the base uses of a Pigsty and accordingly he drove his oxen and wain to the gateway above for the purpose of removing it. Taking his beasts to the entrance of the well, he essayed to drag the trough from its ancient bed. For a long time it resisted the efforts of the oxen, but at length they succeeded in starting it, and dragged it slowly up the hillside to where the wain was standing. Here, however, it burst away from the chains which held it, and, rolling back again to the well, made a sharp turn and regained its old positions, where it has remained ever since. Nor will anyone again attempt its removal, seeing that the farmer, who was previously well-to-do in the world, never prospered from that day forward. Some people say, indeed, that retribution overtook him on the spot, the oxen falling dead, and the owner being struck lame and speechless..." [cont.]

Hope 1893

Saint Keynes Well - part 3

"The quality, that man and wife
Whose chance, or choice, attaines
First of this sacred stream to drinke
Thereby the mastery gains."

St Kayne's Well by Richard Carew, 1603 

© Copyright Tony Atkin and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence

"...This mystical well is the subject of the following lines by Southey:

A well there is in the west country,
And a clearer one never was seen
There is not a wife in the west country
But has heard of the well of St. Keyne. 

An oak and an elm-tree stand beside,
And behind doth an ash-tree grow,
And a willow from the bank above
Droops to the water below. 

 

A traveller came to the well of St. Keyne,
Joyfully he drew nigh,
For from cock-crow he had been travelling,
And there was not a cloud in the sky. 

He drank of the water so cool and clear,
For thirsty and hot was he,
And he sat down upon the bank
Under the willow-tree. 

There came a man from the house hard by
At the well to fill his pail
On the well-side he rested it,
And he bade the stranger hail. 

"Now, art thou a bachelor, stranger ?" quoth he,
"For an' if thou hast a wife,
The happiest draught thou hast drank this day,
That ever thou didst in thy life. 

Or fast thy good woman, if one thou hast,
Ever here in Cornwall been?
For an' if she have, I'll venture my life
She has drank of the well of St. Keyne." 

"I have left a good woman who never was here,"
The stranger he made reply,
"But that my draught should be the better for that,
I pray you answer me why." 

"St. Keyne," quoth the Cornishman, "many a time
Drank of this crystal well,
And before the angels summon'd her,
She laid on the water a spell.

"If the husband of this gifted well
Shall drink before his wife,
A happy man henceforth is he,
For he shall be master for life. 

But if the wife should drink of it first,
God help the husband then !"
The stranger stoop'd to the well of St. Keyne,
And drank of the water again. 

"You drank of the well I warrant betimes?"
He to the Cornishman said :
But the Cornishman smiled as the stranger spake,
And sheepishly shook his head. 

I hasten'd as soon as the wedding was done,
And left my wife in the porch
But i' faith she had been wiser than me,
For she took a bottle to church.""

Hope 1893

Map - St Keynes Well

Map - Keynsham

[I have guessed the Keynsham near Bristol (this being closer to Breacknock and Wales), though there does seem to be a possibility there is a Keynsham in Newquay, Cornwall, according to google maps - cant back this up anywhere else though.]

Saint Keyne's Well - part 1

 

"This well is half a mile east of the interesting Decorated and Perpendicular Church of the same name, 2 ½ miles on the road from West Looe. It is a spring of rare virtues in the belief of the country people. It is covered in by masonry, upon the top of which formerly grew five large trees--a Cornish elm, an oak, and three antique ash-trees--on so narrow a space that it is difficult to imagine how the roots could have been accommodated. There now remain only two of these trees--the elm, which is large and fine, and one of the ash-trees. 

According to the legend, St. Keyne, a holy and beautiful virgin, of British royal blood, daughter of Braganus, Prince of Brecknockshire, said to have been the aunt of St. David of Wales, visited this country about 490. She was sought in marriage by  men of distinction. On a pilgrimage to St. Michael's Mount, and remaining sometime in Cornwall, she so endeared herself to the people, that she was hardly allowed to depart..." [cont.]

Hope 1893

Druids on Dartmoor

'There are also charms for the antiquarian on Dartmoor, in the remains of altars, logans and cromlechs, scattered over it, showing that it was once a sacred spot for Druid worship; names testifying to the same fact belong also to many of the tors, as Bel-tor, Mis-tor, Ham-tor, and others. Very rude are the materials of which these relics are formed, proving their great antiquity, and carrying our thoughts back for centuries to the day when the British priests burned incense to Bel or Baal, to the moon, the planets and the host of heaven; and sacrificed human victims to their false gods...

...There are few trees on Dartmoor, except Wistman or Whistman's Wood. It is situated about a mile north of Two Bridges, which is nearly in the centre of the moor, upon the side of a steep hill opposite Blair Down, forming the side of a valley through which a branch of the beautiful river Dart runs.

These remains of an ancient forest are supposed to have been one of the sacred groves so essential to Druidical worship, and which were full of evidences of cruelty, bodies of men being often nailed to the trees and suffered there to decay. It has been asserted by a writer on Cornwall, that Wistman's Wood is nearly in the same state now that it was at the time of the Norman Conquest.

The ascent to it is strewn with immense masses of granite, and starting from among them, wildly scattered, is a grove of diminutive oak trees, that look as if hundreds of centuries had passed since they first grew in Wistman's Wood; they are none of them above twelve feet high, and they spread wide arms at their tops, and their moss-covered branches twist and coil into each other in most fantastic fashion. Among these rocks and trees adders find a habitation.'

Valentine (undated)

The Legend of John Trinnaman's Pool - part 4

...Some say that each time John Trinnaman filled the bag with wet sand, the bottom of the bag split open and the sand went back into the river. He then looked up to heaven and called for ‘more rope’ to tie the bottom of the bag. As he did so, a rope came down from the branches of the oak tree, wound itself round the butler’s neck and hanged him. The bag of sand, they say, turned into one big solid stone.

If you care to look closely around on the river bank in the Trinnaman Pool area in Long Timber Woods in Ivybridge, you will see a large oak tree at the base of which is an unusual granite stone. Cut in the stone is a large basin round indentation. Some people say that this was where John Trinnaman placed handfuls of sand as he gathered it from the river.

This is the John Trinnaman legend.

[Collected from Tom of Ivybridge, who first heard it from his teacher during World War One, whilst picking blackberries for the war effort. Sadly Tom passed away in the mid 1990's.]

The Cross Tree of Chagford

[This photo is of the site of Chagfords Cross tree, now supplanted by a granite boulder installed at the millennium.  Though I have asked many people no one appears to know much about the origional tree, despight it being celebrated in a kneeler in the local church.  Many Devon and some Somerset and Dorset villages had Cross Trees, often situated just outside the church entrance. Most where elm, but Chagfords was an oak.  There is some confusion as to whether they are called cross trees because of being at a cross ways (the entrance to the church) or whether they had some religious connotation.  During the middle ages the church frequently had to petition people to stop worshiping under trees and by rocks and springs, albeit in a Christian way.  I have read somewhere about one cross tree being used for religious purposes as a hangover from Catholic times in England.

The only rumors I found to Chagfords Cross Tree was that it was once part of a giant circle of trees that surrounded (and predated!) the land where the church now stands, a druids grove none the less, with one tree standing in historic times in the square (never seen any evidence for this) and the last one being the that which felled in the 1970's, called the Cross Tree...  Very mysterious...]

Wistmans Wood

'Wistman's Wood, one of the lions of Dartmoor, probably takes its name from whisht, a Devonshire synonym for "uncanny." It is a group of stunted and gnarled oaks, mixed with ferns and mountain ash, rooted among mossy boulders which make rough scrambling. There are said to be some five hundred of these trees many of them several centuries old, but none more than 10 or 12 feet high. One tradition gives them as planted in the 13th century by Isabella de Fortibus, Countess of Devon; but this weird wood appears to be still older. It is naturally connected with the Druids, and another derivation finds its name in their synonym ' The Wise Men." Both stories and trees answer doubly to ancient ideas of a sacred place, and few superstitious natives would care to find themselves here in the dark. It is haunted by adders, which make a real danger ~ one should be careful in picking one's steps among the boulders and their choked-up interstices. While this primeval wood seems almost as ancient as the stone monuments around it, the greenery in the adjacent Cowsick glen has been carefully nursed into beauty within our own century.'

Hope Moncrieff 1895

Meavy Oak

'Meavy... ...notable... ...for an oak that claims to be the oldest in England'

Hope Moncrieff 1895

Dartmoor Pixie

'The appearance of the pixies of Dartmoor is said to resemble that of a bale or bundle of rags. In this shape they decoy children to their unreal pleasure. A woman, on the northern borders of the moor, was returning home late on a dark evening, accompanied by two children, and carrying a third in her arms, when, on arriving at her own door, she found one missing. Her neighbours, with lanthorns, immediately set out in quest of the lost child; whom they found sitting under a large oak-tree, well known to be a favourite haunt of the pixies. He declared that he had been led away by two large bundles of rags, which had remained with him until the lights appeared, when they immediately vanished.

The pixies of Dartmoor, notwithstanding their darker character, aided occasionally in household work. A washer-woman was one morning greatly surprised, on coming down-stairs, to find all her clothes neatly washed and folded. She watched the next evening, and observed a pixie in the act of performing this kind office for her: but she was ragged and mean in appearance, and Betty's gratitude was sufficiently great to- induce her to prepare a yellow petticoat and a red cap for the obliging pixie.'

Hunt 1903

Braunton - St Branock's Well

'"I forbear," says Leland (Itin.), "to speak of St. Branock's
cow, his staff, his oak, his well, and his servant Abel, all of which
are lively represented in a glass window of that church,"—Ibid.,
256.'

Hope 1893

St James' Church, Exeter

'St James's Recently re-erected in the Early English style, has a pulpit of Spanish carved oak, formally in the cathedral, and said to have been captured in a Spanish galleon.'

Hope Moncrieff 1895