Part II

Part II

Traditional Poems

Cleveland Lyke-wake Dirge(1)

This ya neet, this ya neet, Ivvery neet an' all; Fire an' fleet(2) an' can'le leet, An' Christ tak up thy saul.

When thoo frae hence away art passed(3) Ivvery neet an' all; To Whinny-moor thoo cooms at last, An' Christ tak up thy saul.

If ivver thoo gav owther hosen or shoon, Ivvery neet an' all; Clap thee doon an' put 'em on, An' Christ tak up thy saul.

Bud if hosen or shoon thoo nivver gav nean,(4) Ivvery neet an' all; T' whinnies 'll prick thee sair to t' bean,(5) An' Christ tak up thy saul.

Frae Whinny-moor when(6) thoo mayst pass, Ivvery neet an' all; To t' Brig o' Dreead thoo'll coom at last, An' Christ tak up thy saul.

If ivver thoo gav o' thy siller an' gowd, Ivvery neet an' all; At t' Brig o' Dreead thoo'll finnd foothod, An' Christ tak up thy saul.

Bud if siller an' gowd thoo nivver gav nean, Ivvery neet an' all; Thoo'll doan, doon tum'le towards Hell fleames, An' Christ tak up thy saul.

Frae t' Brig o' Dreead when thoo mayst pass, Ivvery neet an' all; To t' fleames o' Hell thoo'll coom at last, An' Christ tak up thy saul.

If ivver thoo gav owther bite or sup, Ivvery neet an' all; T' fleames 'll nivver catch thee up, An' Christ tak up thy saul.

Bud if bite or sup thoo nivver gav nean, Ivvery neet an' all; T' fleames 'll bon(7) thee sair to t' bean, An' Christ tak up thy saul.

1. The text of this version of the "Lyke-wake Dirge" follows, with slight variations, that found in Mr. Richard Blakeborough's Wit, Character, Folklore, and Customs of the North Riding (p. 123), where the following account is given: "I cannot say when or where the Lyke Walke dirge was sung for the last time in the North Riding, but I remember once talking to an old chap who remembered it being sung over the corpse of a distant relation of his, a native of Kildale. This would be about 1800, and he told me that Lyke-wakes were of rare occurrence then, and only heard of in out-of-the-way places. ... There are other versions of the song; the one here given is as it was dictated to me. There is another version in the North Riding which seems to have been written according to the tenets of Rome; at least I imagine so, as purgatory takes the place of hellish flames, as given above." In the Appendix to this volume will be found the other version with the introduction of purgatory to which Mr. Blakeborough refers. I have taken it from Sir Walter Scott's Border Minstrelsy (ed. Henderson, vol. ii. pp. 170-2), but it also finds a place in John Aubrey's Remains of Gentilisme and Judaisme (1686-7), preserved among the Lansdowne MSS. in the British Museum. Aubrey prefixes the following note to his version of the dirge: The beliefe in Yorkeshire was amongst the vulgar (perhaps is in part still) that after the person's death the soule went over Whinny-moore, and till about 1616-24 at the funerale a woman came (like a Praefica) and sang the following song." Further information about this interesting dirge and its parallels in other literatures will be found in Henderson's edition of the Border Minstrelsy, p. 163) and in J. C. Atkinson's Glosary of the Cleveland Dialect, p. 595.

Cleveland Lyke-wake Dirge

Traditional Sir Walter Scott's version

From Appendix I of 1st Edition.

This ae nighte, this ae nighte, Every nighte and alle; Fire and sleete and candle lighte, And Christe receive thye saule.

When thou from hence away are paste, Every nighte and alle; To Whinny-muir thou comest at laste; And Christe receive thye saule.

If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon, Every nighte and alle; Sit thee down, and put them on; And Christe receive thye saule.

If hosen and shoon thou ne'er gavest nane, Every nighte and alle; The whinnes shall pricke thee to the bare bane, And Christe receive thye saule.

From Whinny-muir when thou mayst passe, Every nighte and alle ; To Brigg o' Dread thou comest at laste, And Christe receive thye saul

(A stanza wanting)

From Brigg o' Dread when thou mayst passe, Every nighte and alle; To purgatory fire thou comest at laste; And Christ receive thye saule.

If ever thou gavest meat or drinke, Every nighte and alle; The fire shall never make thee shrinke; And Christ receive thye saule.

If meate or drinke thou never gavest nane, Every nighte and alle; The fire will burn thee to the bare bane; And Christe receive thye saule.

This ae nighte, this ae nighte, Every nighte and alle; Fire and sleete, and candle lighte, And Christe receive thye saule.

A Dree Neet(1)

Traditional

'T Were a dree(2) neet, a dree neet, as t' squire's end drew nigh, A dree neet, a dree neet, to watch, an pray, an' sigh.

When t' streeam runs dry, an' t' deead leaves fall, an' t' ripe ear bends its heead, An' t' blood wi' lithin'(3), seems fair clogg'd, yan kens yan's neam'd wi' t' deead.

When t' een grows dim, an' folk draw nigh frae t' other saade o' t' grave, It's late to square up awd accoonts a gannin' sowl to save.

T' priest may coom, an' t' priest may gan, his weel-worn tale to chant, When t' deeath-smear clems a wrinkled broo, sike disn't fet yan's want.(4)

Nea book, nea can'le, bell, nor mass, nea priest iv onny lan', When t' dree neet cooms, can patch a sowl, or t' totterin' mak to stan'.

. . . . .

'T were a dree neet, a dree neet, for a sowl to gan away, A dree neet, a dree neet, bud a gannin' sowl can't stay.

An' t' winner shuts(5) they rattled sair, an' t' mad wild wind did shill, An' t' Gabriel ratchets(6) yelp'd aboon, a gannin' sowl to chill.

'T were a dree neet, a dree neet, for deeath to don his cowl, To staup(7) abroad wi' whimly(8) treead, to claim a gannin' sowl.

Bud laal(9) deeath recks hoo dree t' neet be, or hoo a sowl may pray, When t' sand runs oot, his sickle reaps; a gannin' sowl can't stay.

'T were a dree neet, a dree neet, ower Whinny-moor to trake,(10) Wi' shoonless feet, ower flinty steanes, thruf monny a thorny brake.

A dree neet, a dree neet, wi' nowt neaways to mark T' gainest trod(11) to t' Brig o' Deead; a lane lost sowl i' t' dark.

A dree neet, a dree neet, at t' brig foot theer to meet Laal sowls at(12) he were t' father on, wi' nea good-deame i' seet.

At t' altar steps he niver steead, thof monny a voo he made, Noo t' debt he awes to monny a lass at t' brig foot mun be paid.

They face him noo wiv other deeds, like black spots on a sheet, They noo unscape,(13) they egg him on, on t' brig his doom to meet.

Nea doves has sattled on his sill, bud a flittermoose(14) that neet Cam thrice taames thruf his casement, an' flacker'd roond his feet.

An' thrice taames did a raven croak, an' t' seame-like thrice cam t' hoot Frae t' ullets' tree; doon chimleys three there cam a shrood o' soot.

An' roond t' can'le twea taames there cam a dark-wing'd moth to t' leet, Bud t' thod(15), it swirl'd reet into t' fleame, wheer gans his sowl this neet.

'T were a dree neet, a dree neet, for yan to late(16) to pray, A dree neet, a dree neet, bud a gannin' sowl can't stay.

. . . . .

1, From R. Blakeborough's "Old Songs of the Dales," appended to his T' Hunt o' Yatton Brigg, p. 37, second edition. 2. Gloomy. 3. Thickening. 4. The literal meaning of this line is, When the death-salve bedaubs a wrinkled brow, rites such as these do not fetch (i.e. supply) one's want. The reference is to extreme unction. 5. Window shutters. 6. The hounds of death. 7. Stalk. 8. Stealthy. 9. Little. 10. Wander. 11. Shortest path. 12. That. 13. Stir up memories. 14. Bat. 15. Third. 16. Attempt.

The Bridal Bands

Traditional

From R. Blakeborough's Wit, Character, Folklore, and Customs of the North Riding, p. 97.

Blushing, theer oor Peggy sits, Stitchin', faane stitchin', Love-knots roond her braadal bands, Witchin', bewitchin'.

T' braade's maids all mun dea a stitch, Stitchin', faane stitchin', An' they mun binnd it roond her leg, Witchin', bewitchin'.

Bud some bauf(1) swain at's soond o' puff, Stitchin', faane stitchin', Will claim his reet to tak it off, Witchin', bewitchin'.

An' he aroond his awn love's leg, Stitchin', faane stitchin', Will lap(2) it roond to binnd his love, Witchin', bewitchin'.

Whal she, sweet maid, 'll wear his troth, Stitchin', faane stitchin', Maanding each taame she taks it off, Witchin', bewitchin',

That day when she will hae to wear, Stitchin', faane stitchin', Nut yan, bud twea, a braadal pair, Witchin', bewitchin'.

Oh! happy day, when she sal stitch, Stitchin', faane stitchin', Her braadal bands, the wearin' which Maks maids bewitchin'.

1 Sturdy. 2. Wrap.

The Bridal Garter(1)

A Catch

Traditional

Here's health to t' lass whea donn'd this band To grace her leg, An' ivvery garter'd braade i' t' land: Sea sip it, an' tip it, bud tip it doon your wizan.(2)

Aroond her leg it has been bun', I wish I'd bun' it. A trimmer limb could nut be fun': Sea sip it, an' tip it, bud tip it doon your wizan.

May ivvery yan at lifts his glass To this faane band Uphod(3) he gans wi' t' best-like lass: Sae sip it, an' tip it, bud tip it doon your wizan.

Frae wrist to wrist this band we pass, As han' clasps han'; I' turn we through it draw each glass: Sea sip it, an' tip it, bud tip it doon your wizan.

An' here's tiv her at fast(4) did weer A braadal band Bun' roond her leg; gie her a cheer: Sea sip it, an' tip it, bud tip it doon your wizan.

An' here's to Venus; let us beg A boon at she Will gie each braade a pattern leg: Sea sip it, an' tip it, bud tip it do on your wizan.

1 From Mr. Richard Blakeborough's "Old Songs of the Dales," appended to his T' Hunt o' Yatton Brigg, p. 57, 2nd edition.. 2 Throat. 3 Uphold, maintain. 4 First.

Nance and Tom

Traditional

From Mr. R. Blakeborough's "Old Songs of the Dales," appended to his T' Hunt o' Yatton Brigg, p. 44, 2nd edition.

I' t' merry taame o' harvestin' Lang sen,(1) aye well a day! Oar Nancy, t' bonniest lass i' t' field Had varra laal to say. An' Tom whea follow'd, follow'd her, An' neigh as dumb were he, An' thof he wark'd some wiv his hands He harder wark'd his ee.

For Nan were buxom, Nan were fair, Her lilt were leet an' free; An' Tom could hardlins hod(2) his wits, He couldn't hod his ee Frae Nancy's face; an' her breet smaale Made Tom's heart lowp(3) an' thump; Whal Nancy awn'd t' fost kiss he gav, Her stays mun git a bump

Bud o' ya neet, Tom set her yam, " Noo, Nance," tell'd he," I've gitten A cauvin' coo, an' twea fat pigs; Wi' thy fair charms I'm smitten. Thoo knaws I have a theak,(4) my lass, An' gear, baith gert an' small, I've fotty pund ligg'd by at yam, Tak me, lass, tak it all."

Nance hing'd her heead an' dropp'd her een, An' then she sighed, "Ah, dear! Noo hod thy whisht,(5) thoo's tell'd t' same tale To monny a maid, I fear." Bud Tom just bowdly sleev'd(6) her waist An chuck'd her unner t' chin. "O' Sunday neet," said he, " I'll wait To hug(7) thy milk-skeel(8) in.

(A verse is missing)

She bun' aboot her matchless cauf Four cletchin' streas,(9) did Nan, Twea wheaten an' twea oaten streas, Bud niver tell'd her man. She platted 'em when t' harvest mean Her colour'd cheek made pale, For nea lass plats her band for bairns And then blirts(10) out her tale.

An' t' mean for sham' ahint a clood Her smaalin' feace did hide; Sea nea hedge-skulker gat a peep At Nan's leg when 't were tied. An' nean i' t' village would have knawn, At roond her leg, like thack,(11) She'd bun' a band to gie her bairns, Bud she tummel'd offen(12) t' stack,

An' deaz'd she ligg'd, her shapely limb Laid oot for all to see; An' roond her leg a platted band Were bun' belaw her knee. Then up she sprang, an' laughin' said, "Noo, Tom warn't here to see; An' nean can say I's scrawmy(13) cauf'd, An' t' band still guards my knee."

1. Long ago. 2 . Hold. 3, Leap. 4. Thatched roof. 5. Hold thy tongue. 6. Encircled. 7. Carry. 8. Milk-pail. 9. Thatching straws. 10. Blurts. 11. Thatch. 12. Off. 13. Unshapely.

The Witch's Curse(1)

Traditional

Fire coom, Fire gan, Curlin' smeak Keep oot o' t' pan. Ther's a tead(2) i' t' fire, a frog on t' hob, Here's t' heart frev a crimson ask(3); Here's a teath fra t' heead O' yan at's deead, At niver gat thruf his task. Here's prick'd i' blood a maiden's prayer, At t' ee o' man maunt(4) see; It's prick'd upon a yet warm mask,(5) An' lapp'd(6) aboot a breet green ask, An' it's all fer him an' thee. It boils, Thoo'll drink; He'll speak, Thoo'll think: It boils, Thoo'll see; He'll speak, Thoo'll dee.

1 From R. Blakeborough's T' Hunt o' Yatton Brigg, p. 12; see also the same author's Yorkshire Wit, Character, Folklore, and Customs, p. 169. 2. Toad. 3. Newt. 4. May not. 5, Brew. 6. Wrapped.

Ridin' t' Stang(1)

(Grassington Version)

Traditional

Hey dilly, how dilly, hey dilly, dang! It's nayther for thy part, nor my part, That I ride the stang. But it's for Jack Solomon, His wife he did bang. He bang'd her, he bang'd her, He bang'd her indeed, He bang'd t' poor woman Tho' shoo stood him no need. He nayther took stick, stain, wire, nor stower,(2) But he up wi' a besom an' knock'd her ower. So all ye good neighbours who live i' this raw, I pray ye tak warnin', for this is our law. An' all ye cross husbands Who do your wives bang, We'll blow for ye t' horn , An' ride for ye t' stang. Hip, hip, hip, hurrah!

1 From B. J. Harker's Rambles in Upper Wharfedale. Other versions, more or less similar to the above, are to be found in R. Blakeborough's Wit, Folklore, and Customs of the North Riding, and J. Nicholson's Folk Speech of the East Riding. In the Yorkshire Dialect Society's Transactions, vol. iii., part xvi., will be found a racy account, in the Beverley dialect, of the custom of "ridin' t' stang."