by Peter Hill
It’s a bad day for rooks on the 14th of June,
’Cos they hunt them with guns from the morning till noon.
And the ones that are prized and will boil up the best
Are the fledglings that perch on the edge of the nest.
Now Mrs Aldwinkle, she’s up with the lark,
And does fifty press-ups while it’s still dark.
And what is it keeps her so young and so spry
It’s a generous slice of boiled egg and rook pie.
They had five alehouses, but now there’s just one,
And you might well enquire where the others have gone,
The good folk of Ashley they drank them all dry,
After feasting all day on boiled egg and rook pie.
On the 14th of June, all you rooks must take care,
Of men with long guns and big nets, you beware,
And deep in the bowels of the nest you must lie,
Or else you’ll end up ’neath the crust of a pie.
Ashley was also the source for another song, ‘The Grand 5-Seater Loo’. Outside toilets were, of course, the norm for the majority of homes in some parts until modern times, and many of the older generation can remember a venture outside on a cold or rainy night to relieve themselves. There were variations from the single-seater toilet to the occasional double, or even triple, versions. Yasmin Bradley was inspired to write a song about one with five seats. Once again, there is an introductory chorus, which is repeated after each verse:
(Chorus)
There was Elsie, Bob and Vesta, George and Aunt Esther,
You never could be lonely when there was a loo to share,
You could pass the time of day there, catch up with gossip too,
In Ashley’s great invention: the Grand 5-seater Loo.
Now Ashley might be small but the plumbing was unique,
Some called it an oddity and others said a freak.
But there was no denying in terms of sanitation,
Ashley in Northants was the forefront of nation.
For Elsie had wed Bob; they would never be apart,
For togetherness is the key in matters of the heart.
And especially late at night when the call of nature came,
With Bob from her side, it was never quite the same.
Now Bob was a romantic; he loved his Elsie dear,
He didn’t like to think of her without his presence near,
On one St Valentine’s, he got wood and a hammer too,
And he built his darling Elsie, an extension to the loo.
It wasn’t many years before the children came along,
They seemed to like the company and didn’t mind the pong.
For money was so short and house was so chilly,
You could spend a cosier evening on a 5-hole WC!
Family came to visit, friends came round to see,
Intelligence even came to Hitler’s Germany.
But disaster was to strike as the bombs began to hum;
And the Grand 5-Seater Loo was blown to kingdom come.
The shoe industry which had flourished in the central area of Northamptonshire, helping to transform it from a predominantly agricultural county, declined sharply in the last quarter of the twentieth century, as a result of cheap foreign imports, causing unemployment and empty buildings. In 1993, Paul Rogers wrote a song vividly describing the situation, the lyrics of which would certainly strike a chord with those local people who were affected at the time. The opening verse and repeated chorus are the same:
What have they done with the workers in leather
The clickers, the lasters, the women and men
Who made boots and shoes for the poor and the gentry
In factories down by the banks of the Nene.
The tannery’s closed and the signboard is fading,
They’re using it now as a goods vehicle park,
But the smell of the leather still clings in the corners
And conjures up ghosts of the past in the dark.
The factory bands would all play on the feast day,
In uniforms braided with red, gold and blue,
And the children would dance to the drums and the trumpets,
Till the proud marching column had passed out of view.
There were boots for the soldiers and shoes for the townsfolk
And slippers that many a princess could wear,
Now they’ve all disappeared in the interests of progress,
Till very few know and even less care.
Another group on the county folk circuit are the four-piece Ock ‘n’ Dough, who take their name from the dish that was once so popular in Northamptonshire. They have built up a large repertoire of songs and gained a large following along the way over the years, performing lively tunes and ballads. Like Empty Pocket, they have also collected folk tales and stories of famous county events and in addition worked on a John Clare project, setting his poems to music.
One piece written by the group is based on the coming of the railway to Northamptonshire, the first appearance of which was in 1838, in the south-west of the county en route to Rugby via Blisworth. A line through the east of the county from Bisworth to Peterborough was subsequently opened in 1845, though not without controversy as can be seen in the following poem, ‘The Northampton to Peterborough Railway (The Kettle of Hot Water)’ written in 1843, two years before the opening. Such an innovation was seen by some as a threat to the traditional way of life in the county and arguably they were right, as an irrevocable transformation did take place. A tune has been composed by Janis Zakis, the accordionist, reflecting the movement of the train shown in the irregular metre of the lyrics:
Of all the great wonders that ever was known,
Some wonderful things have occurred in this town.
The great Peterborough railway will beat them all hollow,
And whosoever thought of it such a wonderful fellow.
Why, ’tis said when it’s finished, which will be in two years,
If they can find fools to buy all the shares,
That Northampton will become the first place in the nation,
You won’t know the old place by the great alteration.
No drunken stage coachmen out breaking people’s necks,
Overturn’d into ditches, sprawl’d out on your backs.
No blustering guard that through some mistake,
Fires off his blunderbuss if a mouse should but squeak.
(Chorus)
Loaded with passengers, in and out, oh what a wonderful sight.
A long string of carriages, on the rails, moved by a tea kettle spout.
Oh no my good friends, when this railroad is finished,
All coachmen and cattle will forever be banished,
You will ride up to London in three hours and a quarter,
With nothing to drive you, but a kettle of hot water.
And any old woman that’s got enough sense,
By raking and scraping to save a few pence,
If at service in London, she has got a ‘darter’,
She may soon ride to see her by this kettle of hot water.
’Ev yer breakfast in Peterborough on tea, toast and butter,
And need not put yourself into a splutter,
You can travel to London and dine there at noon,
And take tea in Peterborough the same afternoon.
What a chance for the Cockneys, who are fond of fresh fish,
They will have all kinds alive on a dish,
Fen geese and fat turkeys and all such like good cheer,
There’s be more go in one day than now goes in a year.
As to the nags that devour more corn in a year,
Than would support three parts of the neighbouring poor,
They’ll all be taken to the knacker’s yard,
And converted if possible into pork lard.
As to innkeepers and Ostlers, and all such riffraff,
Thi
s railway will disperse them before it like chaff,
They must all list for soldiers or take on for marines,
And curse the inventors of railway and steam.
All great coach proprietors that have rolled in their wealth
Are to ride upon the donkeys for the good of their health,
And to keep up their spirits are to strike up a theme,
Of the blessings of railroads and the virtues of steam.
So these are a few of the great alterations,
That this great Peterborough Railroad will make in the nation,
But if the shareholders be not careful and mind what they’re after,
They might all get blown up by this boiler of hot water.
No drunken stage coachmen, etc. (as verse one)
Another interesting piece for students of county folklore has also been set to music by the group. Known as ‘Irthlingborough Waterloo’, it is based on a remark made by the Duke of Wellington, who on a visit to Woodford House to see a friend, General Arbuthnot, commented that the landscape between Woodford and Irthlingborough resembled that on which the Battle of Waterloo had been fought in 1815. Today, on the Finedon-Thrapston road, a fine round building built by the General after the visit can be seen. Known as Waterloo House, it was intended as a residential tower with an open gallery at the top for viewing purposes and has a stone tablet facing the fields, inscribed ‘Panorama. Waterloo Victory, June 18, AD 1815’. Many years later, in 1913, Wellington’s remark led to the appearance of a film crew on the site, in which the battle was re-enacted for the silent cinema. It was a memorable occasion by all accounts, due to the enthusiasm of the participants and the cuts and bruises sustained – just like those experienced by today’s history re-enactment groups in order to achieve a degree of realism:
Waterloo House.
(Chorus)
Boneparte, oh Boneparte, come fight again, oh Boneparte.
The good men of this country free, will take you on for a small fee. A hush fell over the battle scene,
As five hundred men with lances keen,
Readied for the cavalry charge,
With horses strewn from the knacker’s yard.
The cameras roll, the extras yell,
As the unemployed from Northampton fell.
The screams of dying rent the air,
Not a life did the hussars spare.
And Boney rode his horse with pride,
The producer running at his side,
With a stick to prod the unwilling beast,
More used to pulling drays in streets.
For three long days the battle raged,
And in between with hard won wage,
The extras drank the pubs all dry,
Bringing a tear to a brewer’s eye.
Soon came the end to all the fun,
And all the folk who’d battle done.
Retired with broken heads and bones,
Seven shillings and sixpence eased their groans.
In Comes I!
An integral part of the Christmas season, and sometimes beyond, was the mummers’ play. The name is believed to come from the Greek ‘mommo’, meaning a mask, and in ancient and medieval times mummers were singers, dancers and musicians wearing animal costumes, such as the head of a stag or horse, for courtly entertainment. The later form, which appeared embryonically during the seventeenth century, was a play which took its basic derivatives and cast from the incredibly popular tale ‘The Seven Champions of Christendom’, which had been published in1596, together with other ingredients which came from a civic play produced in London during 1550s and other Tudor pageants. By 1730, the standard form of the play was well and truly in place.
Its theme was based on the ancient battle between good and evil or, on a deeper level, winter fighting spring, though it is extremely doubtful whether the players knew this, for their main purpose was to have a bit of seasonal fun and to make some money to share out among themselves. Apart from the two fighting opponents, the other characters would include someone to introduce the play, one or two doctors, perhaps the hero’s mother, and one or two entertaining personalities to wind up the performance and collect money. Unlike a Hollywood movie, the hero gets killed in combat but is miraculously revived by a boastful doctor who has travelled far and wide. The names of the characters changed over the years, according to what was fashionable or by local interpretation. The hero could be St George, King George, Robin Hood or some kind of military figure. His opponent might go under the name of Turkish Knight, Saracen Knight, Napoleon or be a dragon. Sometimes the hero’s (unnamed) mother might be present, and the healer could be Father Christmas, or a doctor who might be named after a local person or after something rhyming with ‘blood’ such as Rudd or Mudd. The name Mudd is of interest since Dr Mudd was a real person who was notorious after the American Civil War for giving medical aid to the fleeing assassins of Abraham Lincoln, which consequently gave rise to the expression ‘your name is mud’. The strange characters who conclude the performance might be a Fool, Beezlebub or Big Head – ‘big in head, small in wit’. At one time, Aynho had a motley collection of characters in its version of the play: an old Mother Christmas with a broom, King George, the Duke of Cumberland, Dr Gullet, Dr Phurcy, Beezlebub, Short Shirt Jinny, and Old Big Yead Jack with his bag on his back. Whatever their names, the characters would colour their faces and wear strange clothing which might be covered with ribbons and strips of parchment, partly to avoid recognition and partly to reflect the nature of their role.
Interesting versions took place in the south of the county. At Syresham, a pre-First World War play included a molly, the Duke of Cumberland, King George and two doctors, one of whom was unnamed and the other called Jack Finney with a bottle of miraculous elecampane. In this play, however, when George is revived and rises, he starts fighting again! The two adversaries have to be parted by Molly, after which Beezlebub comes on the scene with his dripping pan, followed by Big Head to perform and conclude the play as a musician. An affectionate tribute to the old tradition in the village was performed in the 1990s with a host of interesting characters beginning with a molly with long grey hair who introduced the cast, followed by St George and the Turkish knight as military adversaries, one of whom brandished a pig bladder filled with peas as a weapon. There were also two doctors, one of whom was seen to be a ‘useless braggard’, and Beezlebub ‘ridden as a black nag’.
Perhaps the most unusual form of the play performed in the south of the county – or anywhere else for that matter – was that at Thenford, where more abstract names were given to the two opponents, and Beezlebub was promoted to introducing the play. There were eight players, including the doctor’s horse and a treasurer. The faces of the characters were daubed in black (using burnt cork), white chalk and yellow ochre. Beezlebub wore coloured patches and a paper cap and carried a broom. The two adversaries were Activity, who wore a fox-or hareskin cap and tippet (a fur covering over the shoulders), while Age wore a smock with rags and a cap with a sprig of holly attached. The doctor wore a jacket, a sheepskin shirt with a bell at the back and a cap also with a sprig of holly. Jem Jacks, his assistant, wore rags stuffed with straw and held the box of magic pills, and the Fool carried a whipcord on a stick, with a bean-filled inflated bladder at one end:
Beezlebub: In comes old Beezlebub, on his shoulders he carries a club,
In his hand a dripping pan – don’t you think he’s a funny old man?
Sweep, sweep! Make room for me
And all my jolly company!
Enter Activity: Activity, Activity, if any man interrupts me,
I’ll cut him down as small as a fly,
And send him to the cook to make a mince pie!
Enter Age: I am the man that dare to bid you stand
Although you say you’ll cut me down as small as a fly
Although you say you’ll cut me down for a mince pie
Guard your body and guard your blow
And see w
ho shall on the ground be so.
A battle! A battle! Between you and I
And see who on the ground shall lie.
(Age knocks Activity down and calls the Doctor)
Age: Five pounds I will give for the three farthing doctor!
Two scenes from the Moulton mummers’ play, performed annually on Boxing Day. Above: St George and the Turkish Knight are in combat; below, ina reversal of roles, it is the Turkish Knight who appears to be slain! Here the mysterious doctor revives him.
Enter Doctor: I am the doctor!
Age: Where do you come from?
Doctor: From France, from Spain, to fetch the dead to life again!
Age: What can you cure?
Doctor: I can bring an old woman to me that’s been seven years dead
And seven years buried, in her dark earthly bed
If she takes one of my pills, it will fetch her to life again!
Itch, stitch, palsy and gout –
Pains within and pains without!
At this point the doctor gives a pill and waves his hands and Activity rises up, restored to life once again, to the cheers of the crowd. Then the Fool rattles his bladder at each of the characters and knocks each one down. They all get into a wild scrummage on the floor and mayhem ensues, to the cheering, shouting and laughter from the crowd, while the treasurer goes round shaking the money box for contributions.
Another version of the play, this time from Boughton, has come down to us and is reproduced below. In order to perform the play, the mummers followed the normal pattern of going from house to house but instead of knocking at the door, they tapped on the window of the largest room. To refuse them admittance was considered a crime and would lead to misfortune befalling to the occupants.
Herald: Make room, make room! Every garland all.
On Christmas Eve we’re bound to call,
And if there is no offence,
When we’re done, we’ll all march hence.
Little Whit: In comes I who’s never bin yet
With my big head and little wit –
My head is big, my wit is small,
I come tonight to please you all!
Beezlebub: In comes I Beezlebub – on my shoulder I carry a club.
In my hand a frying pan, don’t you think I’m a handsome man?
Soldier: As I was passing by the school,