It’s surprising what you find by accident in the Record Office! Tucked away in a notebook of the Rev TN Postlethwaite[1], a local historian of the late nineteenth/early twentieth century, was a cutting from the Barrow Herald published in November 1880. In his letter to the Editor, J Beck states that the following song was presented to him by Mr Jos. Simpson of Rampside, and was written ‘several years ago by a servant lad who was a parish apprentice to one of the farmers mentioned in the ditty, and who at that period was resident in the village. Although a totally illiterate, he has managed to string together the whole of the adult population of the village in very fair rhyme’. Unfortunately, he doesn’t identify the author.

The Good Folks of Leece

Come all you folks that likes to hear a good song,

It is a true story, but not very long,

I’ll sing you a song that will make you to smile,

And you’ll have no occasion to stop a long while.

Richard Postlethwaite’s[2] the chap for going his rounds,

And his head man will be ploughing his grounds,

One will be hedging and cutting off thorn,

And two in the barn will be threshing out corn.

Next is John Livesey[3]  he is fam’d for good rearing,

And his son William[4] is hardish of hearing,

Sarah[5] his daughter, and Aggy[6] his wife,

Should you court his daughter he’ll threaten your life.

William Goath is a man that’s varra weel kent;

He makes beehives of straw and besoms of bent;

About Christmas time the doors he loud knocks,

And all that he wants is a fine Christmas box.

There is Robert Sharp with his bodkin and thimble,

He stretches to work so lish and so nimble,

Yet for all that he’s a reet honest tailor –

He employed a lile fellow that once was a sailor.

William Brier[7], he is an old politician,

And his son John[8], he’s a decent musician;

There is Robert and Bella[9] must stay in at night,

Or else the next day the old woman will flight.

Thomas Jackson, the farmer, he lives at Harbarrow,

For being a good master you’ll scarce find his marrow,

And his wife Ann[10] who puts on a good fire,

While she holds on a crack with Isabel Brier.

There’s old James Jackson for whipping a nag,

And his brother John for breaking a stag[11],

There’s lile Johnnie Hee in the lanes he does waddle,

Likewise Joseph Jackson[12] for riding I’th’ saddle.

The next is Matthew Case[13], he is grown bald-headed,

And his son George[14] has lately wedded,

There’s William and James if I’m not mistaken,

Are very good hands at eating fat bacon.

Next is John Jackson I’d like to forgot,

He was once in his time knocked down by a scot[15],

For being a man, I count him but half,

Since very soon after he was fell’d by a calf.

There’s old Thomas Jackson when he was in his prime,

He was a good hand at making a rhyme,

But now he’s grown old and he wears a wig;

Likewise Betty Simpson who keeps a fat pig.

Poor Robert Eccles[16] he oft wants the doctor,

Next door but one you’ll find Abigail Proctor,

Between these two houses lives lile Miley Shaw,

His barn’s scrooed on’t tarn till there come a girt thaw.

John Ainsworth, Jimmy Kendal, also Leonard Jackson,

 They go to Hole Beek to show folks their action;

There’s lile Timmy Proctor he works out in’t wet,

Richard Turner his master deals in skins of old ket.

Mistress Simpson[17], she is always good to the poor,

She serves every one that goes to her door;

In building up rhymes I’se nobbut a larner,

And had near forgotten poor old William Garner.

Now it’s time to conclude and finish my song,

I’se been round the village, and it’s not ta’en me long;

If there’s anything in it you think is not right,

I’ll still try to mend it, so farewell and good night.

Neil Hudson

November 2007