The days of the duck

As I wandered down Rayrig one new years day morning To see the low sun on the the Langdales high flanks
I was called from the road by a brown coated traveller Twas the Cravendale Parson fat Jack from West banks.

From Crosshills by Steeton By toll roads and bridleways roamed the bold Parson with ferns in his boots.
His shiny red countenance told of the weather With wind batterd cheeks and a head like a coots

Wilt tha walk along wi me he asked in good humour , to view the broad lake from the top of yon hill?
Well head to Cocks corner and wait for some companyThen seek some fortune and go where we will.

We sat in the bracken and looked over Lowwood and saw the white swans as the flew down the mere,
The grebe and the mallard went ducking and dabbling whilst down in the coppices browsed the dun deer.

We came to Cocks corner the cross in the toll road and sat and considered the which way to take,
up to high Kirkston to hear the bold preacher or Down into Ecclerigg shore by the lake.

As we sat debating along hie'd two characters Benjamin Buckmaster bearded and bright ,
in a weskit of satin in multiple colours and britches of leather as black as the night.

Donald the woodcutter his brave companion was dressed up in moleskin the rustic's attire,
He carried a billhook thrust into his belt  And now where st tha bound off to they both did inquire.

We follow the road in the quest for good fortune on this new years day at the start of the year,
And the way that things go when good friends come together would seem to suggest that we call for some beer!

The Parson produced a fat purse made of leather which jingled with coin as the fat rascal spoke,
Tis my last collection from all the sad sinners absolving their guilt with the purse and the poke.

Now what better reason to satisfy treason with this guilty money from letchers and rogues,
And so to my thinking well pray while were drinking and heaven will smile on us yet I suppose.

Amen to that said bold Benjamin piously bowing his head and removing his hat,
Amen cried good Donald ,Hosanna I shouted  The Parson concluded  well that settles that!

So with coin and good humour we took to the bridleway, houses were shuttered below and above,
Sez Ben Ive the thirst o yon Methodist preacher me tongue it resembles a cowdrovers glove!

 Sez,I have recollection of last years collection of hunters and topers  all trying their luck
at an inn up at Barngates by humouous incident comes to be known as the old Drunken Duck.

So we quickened our pace and headed to Skelwith crossed over the brig and climbed up past the spout
as we came to Bull close apprehended the clamour of drinkers and revelers in a fine rout

A bonfire was roaring and smoke it was  pouring and people were singing the songs of the day
The Parson hacked up with four tankards of ale now remember my friends we must drink while we pray!!

We sent invocations to heaven in plenty they rose with the smoke and the  songs and the cheer
The angels smiled  down on our own bit of heaven  Benedictions did flow till we ran out of beer.

The new year was young but the evening grew older on this the first day at the dawn of the year.
As we wended our way to find somewhere to slumber in hayloft or byre with the cows for warm cheer!©mike locke