Belvedere session still growing.

The singers/players afternoon session is going from strength to strength and yesterday brought a room full of artists and there were some great songs sung ." Twelve good persons and true" from all around the area all anxious to contribute and have a laugh!
This is one of the best humored folk gatherings I have ever  experienced with an atmosphere of pleasant bonhomie prevailing throughout . Good beer , good company and good music . Songs from all the nations of these septic isles delivered both melodiously and with humor. What more could anybody want??

Song about the wandering harvest workers from the Dales

The scything boys.

Down from the high moors we return every year
the rake and the pitchfork the tools of our trade
We live off the land and sleep under the sky
not knowing the morn where for sleep we may lie
On hilltop or green woodland glade
*
We travel by stars and we work by the day
to work in the hayfields to bring in the crop
for the fell farmers money hard earned and hard parted
the years seasons cycles nere ending once started
ere the warm summer rain starts to drop.
*
The rich flowery crop yields in swathes to our scythes
as we sweep a fast arc laying low the sweet grass
the summer sun browns the long rows that we turn
our long wooden rakes comb the sedges and fern
We watch the dark clouds  as they pass.
*
The horses lead sleds with their trembling stacks
to  the fieldbarns dark window high in the stone  wall
The pitchforks bright tines toss the clumps of sweet hay
 the sun blazes down at the height of the day
as the raven croaks out his harsh call
*
The scampering children up tramping the moo
like dust powdered urchins will tumble and play
then  home to their beds with a bread crust or two
with their ears full of dust and their hair full of hay
While we gather our pitchforks to go.
*
Whilst we wait in a line for to sign for our pay
The farmer stands watching with long leather purse
a florin a drink and a basket of food
A couple of rabbits we shot in the wood
then away for to find work the new day

©

We survived without "Inhalers" and the H/S man hadnt been born. We were immunised against various "Poxes" by being rubbed on a cows udder at an early age.  Hmmmmm! That could account for a lot??? Ah well.

Many farm hands and drovers left the dales to come to Liverpool to find work and settled in Toxteth . My G.G Grandfather was a cowkeeper and also opened a grocery shop in Liffey St , He lived in a" Yorkshire" community in Cleveden terrace at the top of Upper Parliament st. Until he returned to Dentdale , unfortunately carrying TB which soon killed both him and his wife. He should have stayed in the Dales and kept away from the fever haunted streets and alleys , they left seven orphans who were brought back to Dentdale to the surviving relatives.

Baltic fleet shanty nights

"Trim rig and a Doxy" host this great evening and here's a link to the site ! I love this session it's great!

http://www.trimrigdoxy.com/offthestarboardbow/index.html

Songs from the near past

A Jolly shot from the summer of 06

Without the morris we are all doomed!!

Excerpt from the New City Songster

I found this recently and I remember the occasion now , Ewan Mc Coll and Peggy Seeger came to the Low wood folk club near Ambleside and Did a few numbers . Ewan sang "The Molecatcher" ;" Hello Friend" ; "The Manchester Rambler"And another couple which elude my memory , Peggy did the Derby Ram and another couple with a 5 string banjo (Does that sound right??) Anyway , I remember talking to Rab Noakes at the bar , Alas he didd'nt sing that night but we had a few songs at a little impromptu session later in the week.
 It was a great night and great memories.

Spring approaches and this misty moisty morning the blackbird was singing on my chimneypot for the first time this year. Across on the arable the partridges were skriking in the mist . they always do when its cold and frosty! I think they must have cold arses or something , or they've lost each other in the mist! no matter--- they are a bit stupid  ( but delicious!!)
Here's an interesting little link to the history street theatre guys in Liverpools fair port.

http://lovehistory.co.uk/ They did a superb play down in the Albert dock this summer on the ship and around the dock area 

Sorry about the wobbles but I was struggling for position (It was hell in there)
I had to move as a guy was standing on my foot or it would have been longer ;-)

Belvedere L.T.S. Growing

The little room in the Belvedere is becoming cosier an cosier as the following grows and the potential is becoming apparent.
There were thirteen singers yesterday --Valentines day     , and Mathew gave a song about a bunch of Valentine flowers which were ill received , never heard it before and it was sooo funny in both content and delivery, Yvonne's song about a sheep rustler of yore was a great number which I would love to learn! Perhaps she would let me have the lyrics if i'm nice to her??
Liverpool organic brewery's delicious "Stygian" was for me  , beer of the day and I had a few.
Colin gave us the " Errant apprentice" a rhyme/song which is liberally larded with clever and hilarious word play and unlikely pairings about a jealous suitor's fight with a usurping Turkish gentleman. We all have experience of that condition!!?
I tried a song lurking in the one of the murkier cupboards of my memory and with the help of the gathered congregation managed to stumble through it with clouds of dust flying about my ears!
Danny gave a couple of shanties and a Liverpool special set great singalong stuff. and John did "Here's to you my rambling boy" Very evocative!
We are going to do a little rehearsal with guitar , mandolin and whistle next week to see what breaks cover! I'm looking forward to that , I hate playing alone on the Mandy , it seems so hollow when you could have the guitar to bounce off and vice versa. Most of the stuff will probably be in 'G or 'D no surprises there Eh??
See you next week??

Baltic Fleet.

The BalticFleet sessions. ran back to back in Jan/Feb as the day changes from the last Saturday of the month to the first. I enjoyed the first Saturday and joined in with my octave mandola! the first time it has had an airing in the Baltic and I joined with Keith with his fiddle for a couple of sets. It is really a shanty session so I tried to keep it to hornpipes and nautical themed stuff , No hardship for ME as I prefer hornpipes , they are a little less diddlydee than the jigs and reels , They are OK but are a little repetitious after a while.Derek and Julia kept the singers and players rotating nicely and we had a great selection of music from all concerned.

Her's a picture of the Baltic in the 60/70's by the looks of things.

Piggy muck square cropped up in a recent conversation in the Belvedere on Thursday and It started me thinking about the history of the area and I looked for some info on it as I used to walk across piggy muck Sq with my music teacher , A character named Arthur Barber who was a driver for British Rail , we were going to band practice at  Edge hill shunting yards . Edge hill LMS. band were a force to be reckoned with in those days. Arthur used to promise to buy me a medal in the shop in Piggy muck square if I played well .
 I never got one!!!? PARP!!

PIGGYMUCK SQUARE MEMORIES In response to the appeal for information in Newsletter 190, we received the following email from Peter Humphreys, who now lives in Dublin: "When I was a kid, I went to St Hugh's Primary School (1955-1961). When in middle class (I think, certainly not infants) our classrooms were in concrete, flat-roofed prefabs in Piggy Muck Square. The school occupied the half nearest to Carlyle Street, with the other half being a Council Playground with swings, climbing frames and so on. I really enjoyed those years, with more freedom away from the main school on Earle Road/Lawrence Road, and we used to go across at lunch-time to a small sweet shop on Carlyle Street that sold lemonade in old Shippams Jars for a halfpenny or a penny each (sorry cannot remember). I also loved it because after school I could run up to Tunnel Road to watch the Red Rose (London) LMS Express go under the bridge and create a great puff of smoke and cinders. As far as I understood, the Square was named because of the foul smells coming from the Gas Works on Spotty (Spofforth) Road. The teachers would get up as quickly as possible to close the windows! I hope this is helpful. I certainly enjoyed remembering it." Many thanks, Peter. Any other recollections of Piggymuck Square - or Wavertree in general - will be very welcome.

Keep an eye on the Liverpool waterfront program running from late May to early June.
The events begin with the 70th and I am told , Final  anniversary commemoration of the Battle of the Atlantic. This on May 24th and will close with the Mersey river festival June 7th--9th . 
25 warships will be ranged between the cruise terminal and the Albert and Canning dock.
The highlight for me will be the return of the tall ships and the shanty weekend where I hope the "Afters" in the Baltic fleet will be another memorable night.

Went to the Belvedere session yesterday , A good singaround with an eclectic offer , all kinds of songs from the odd shanty through songs of love and lust to political comment , all well delivered and well received , A nice log fire spitting and crackling and Liverpool Organic brewery's "Cascade" A nice pale hoppy bitter using  of course , the "Cascade" hop to give that lovely back of the palate sharpness. "Sandstone edge" was also on tap but a little cloudy for me , still a worthy offer.
Next week--- Thursday from 1400 to 1600hrs---- Dont be late on parade!! ;-)

 PS. A happy birthday to Mathew's Dad. All the best!!!

Thinking back to the mid sixties I remember Glyn Hughes (Whiskey on a Sunday) penning a couple of songs about other Liverpool streets , one now a ghost street and the other "Re-developed" and I have the bait out in the murky pool of my memory and I am waiting for these fishes to swim to the hook , I have odd snatches that I recall and the skeleton is reforming . These songs were sung by Jimmy English , indeed one of them was penned by Glyn for Jimmy back in 65/66
Jimmy used to sing rock n roll in the "Dive" in Brythen street in the old markets area of Liverpool , a fantastic rambling warren of stalls selling anything and everything ! This was the only fully licensed street in the city  , I was told , Housing "The Dive" "The Dart" and The Roebuck" --All pubs ,  To complete the deal the last shop was a tobacconists.
Anyway , Digging around I found this page and here's a link for the enjoyment of the Liverpool historians.
http://www.sevenstreets.com/city-living/liverpools-ghost-streets-bevington-bush/

And here's Jim. Taken during his "Residency" at the Court house pub in Commutation row circa 1964/5

Crooked Lane by Glyn Hughes

As sung by Jimmy English.

The sun shines bright on Rio

And likewise Lima town

And far across the Southern seas

The dawn shines like a crown

But I'd rather be in Liverpool

Listening to the Rai--ain

As it rattles on my window pane

In cozy crooked lane.

* 

Crooked la--ane

Crooked La--ane

Cozy Cozy Crooked lane.

*

Farewell to Valpariso

 And Gibraltar's burning rock

My heart it goes where the Mersey flows

Down by the Wapping dock

I'm Sailing home to Liverpool

Across the foaming mai--ain

To sit beside my Inglenook

In Cozy Crooked lane.

*

Chorus. 

I'm trying to get the tune written out but I might need a bit of help with that.

The tune has a strange key change in the middle which I could never master back then because the notes werent on a flageolet .

 Perhaps I should have tried another instrument???

Crooked lane in the 30's

Dent Music and Beer Festival

Here we go again! This is a great festival and the pub sessions are superb . The weather however is a different issue , The last two years have been wet---very very wet ,   maybe we stand a good chance of a bit of decent weather this time?????
The beers (pub)  are all locally brewed and good and the beer festival has twenty or so offers.
I have family ties to this lovely valley so will get the inside track on whats going on ;-))
See you there???♫ ♫
http://www.dentmusicandbeer.com/

Rather the Devil.

Rather the Devil. It needs a melody -- I'm thinking Bluesy at the moment but we'll see ---!

When I awoke this morning I was sweating in my bed
The devil stood before me in a glow of angry red
I looked out of the window as the rain began to fall
The devil started grinning , it was not a social call.

Now listen to me Lucifer I know I done much wrong
But I want to go to heaven , not to hell where I belong
The Devil said no no my boy I think you know right well
That your off to stir the brimstone pots , I’m taking you to hell.

Just then my lovely wife came in , said what the hell this row
The devils come to get me and to take me down below
She said listen here young Satan , now don’t you fuss and fret
You can have him very shortly but I aint done with him yet.

It wasn’t very hopeful but I thought I might be free
then I spotted her and Satan in the parlour drinking tea
I said ok I’ve had enough I’m going back to bed
If you want a soul to carry off why not take her instead.

Old Nick looked up at once and on his face there was a frown
He took a backward step and looked me missus up and down
He said Now that ive had a  look at her it’s plain for all to tell
You’ve suffered long enough up here its better down in hell.

©. mike locke.

This is a song about old Percy who lived in Deepdale and used to swoop down the lanes on his old boneshaker with his black coat  flapping behind him like a huge carrion crow on wheels. He would push  the bike back home from the pub using it as a prop to keep him upright . One night he and the bike parted and Percy fell over only yards from his cottage and despite the alchohol Alas Percy died from frostbite.

Owd Percy stood fast with his back to the fire
to fill up with ale was his burning desire
outside stood his bicycle propped agin 't wall
United we stand-divided we fall.
Ch.
United we stand divided we fall
United we stand divided we fall
Its every night you can hear his voice call
United we stand divided we fall.


He'd roll it back home at the end of the night
it'd rattle oer 't cobbles with the stars shining bright
the folks in their beds would awake to his call
United we stand-divided we fall.

Through yellowgill dark where spirit folk play
and the ghosts of the dead hover grimly and grey
he'd roll the old bike without fear or appall
United we stand -divided we fall.

Then rolling past Greenwell with welcoming light
and up into Deepdale his cottage in sight
the owls would hoot down from the larches so tall
United we stand-divided we fall.

The snow started falling as he came to his gate
but his boots lost their grip on the loose limestone slate
The bike and he parted , he fell to the floor
United we stand-divided we fall.

The light snow kept falling so silent and white.
twas near level deep in the dawns mournfull  light
owd Percy lay cold in the lee of the wall
United we stand-divided we fall

If your walking through 'Yellowgill late in the night
where the stars cannot shine and the moon gives no light
 you may hear the bike rattle and hear the voice call
United we stand-divided we fall.©mike locke

MPL.

No Trousers.

Another outrageous yarn no doubt embellished by the telling over the years! Never let the truth stand in the way of a good story eh??




There was a farmer called Bertie living in the dale, who was fond of a pint or two and over fond of his food resulting in his “Carrying a bit of condition”.

One day his wife was away visiting her sister in Kentmere, before she left she picked up and took out the rubbish but on her way out, an old lunchpack that had been overlooked dropped from the bag as she scurried out in haste. Bertie had been left food for the day in the pantry, but seeing the parcel on the kitchen floor he picked it up and looking inside it he found two boiled eggs and some bread and some cheese that looked a bit green and some wet ham! He concluded that the dog had been after his lunch and aiming a kick and a selection of awful oaths at the departing animal he sat down and ate the somewhat dry and smelly repast with a mug of black tea, “Bugger! He thought, bloody dog eatin’ at me bait!”

He shortly bethought himself that the cat was now away and this particular mouse had a couple of bob stashed away and Bert intended to take full advantage of the day! A few pints would do him good and with no wife to nag at him he felt even better.

Ignoring the rumbling in his belly he strode forth in good humour! He walked briskly along through the sunny lanes smelling the cut grass and the sun on the good earth and he felt great to be alive! He sat for a while on the bench and watched the activity in the valley spread before him!

Striding boldly into the pub he was greeted well by the old topers at the bar and bought himself a pint. Not to be over generous, He thought, not offering to buy anybody a drink as it was doubtful if any generosity would be returned! He had another and started feeling well pleased despite the growling spasms in his belly. Two or three more followed and “Reet good they were to”

As he emerged he smelled the fresh air and a bit of smoke on the breeze and he felt a great good humour upon him. He filled and lit his old pipe with a feeling of satisfaction. The disturbance in his belly he put down to the copious draughts he had consumed and strode forth onto the cobbles his hobnails rattling loudly.

As he proceeded the disturbance in his belly had moved in a most alarming manner and was causing him to retrace his steps back to the pub and its toilet!

He began to hurry as the spasms became more severe and as he rounded the bend he inhaled a puff of Bruno from his pipe and then the worst thing happened—He coughed.

Stopping dead in his tracks he realised that there was no longer any need for haste and he looked around for a refuge to make good his considerable discomfort, Seeing the pigpens he sloped in walking gingerly and stripped off his reeking britches and flung them from him in disgust. No wearing them now, he thought as they flapped over into the mire at the end of the sty. The curious pigs looked on in horror as he began to cleanse the awful mess from himself. The smell of the befouled trousers mingled with that of the malodorous pigshit and made his head spin. He stood naked from the waist down, bar his big black boots besmirched with pigshit and mud.

Then he realised the extent of his plight as he saw that the pigs had pulled the trousers into the pen and had rent them into rags.

He only had his jacket and a hairy long sleeved pullover over his linen shirt and he didn’t know what to do to get home without being seen.

Bert’s great good humour was dissipating fast as, having now removed his boots he felt the awful mire oozing between his toes as the pigs looked interestedly on while digesting the remnants of his trousers.

He took stock of his clothes and options and suddenly inspiration took him.

Taking the pullover he reversed it and forced his muck befouled legs into the sleeves and pulled it up!

He was quite pleased with the result and looked down at his tightly clad legs with the satisfaction only beer can impart. Pulling on his filthy boots he took his stick and made forth surreptitiously onto the deserted cobbles and quickly strode towards the footpath by the bridge. The neck of the pullover had been pulled up quite tightly and was affording a lot of ventilation to the nether parts and was alarming him greatly, “nivver mind” he muttered, gets home soon and no one will be the wiser.

He scuttled down beech hill and took to the footpath thinking all was well and so far no one had spotted him.

As he was negotiating the ladder stile with one leg cocked dangerously up and the neckhole yawning alarmingly, he saw a schoolboy appear on the path with a fishing net made from a hazel stick and the foot of an old stocking.

They both froze, as they looked at each other in mutual horror.

It was the boy who broke first and letting out a gasp, ran back wide eyed with terror shouting “Run for yer lives –its Th’divil or a boggart or summat, wi is doins angin out!”

The Schoolteacher was mortified by this sudden intrusion into, What had

so far been a peaceful and pleasant walk. She tried in vain to calm the horrified kids as the girls began to scream and some of the boys, thinking their worst fears were realised, had already bolted in terror.

She cautiously approached the stile to see what had caused the alarm and, peering around the bush she saw the awful sight that stopped her in her tracks!

The boy might have judged correctly, she thought!

She beheld Bertie, one leg cocked and the neck hole of his pullover gaping lewdly, and stuck with his boot caught on the top rung of the stile

The teacher was torn between the awfulness of what she saw and a fascination bordering on delight at the spectacle.

The tableau was frozen for a while as the participants imbibed the moment that they both new would haunt their darkest dreams forever, but the teacher broke first with a shriek of righteous indignation I know you! She called, You awful man “Shame—Shame on you, you fiend frightening children like that! Begone!” She was failing to suppress the smile that, as the appalled Bertie pulled his gaping neckhole together, started to spread across her face and, as he turned back across the stile, dissolved into helpless mirth!

He needed no further encouragement as, glancing back he saw the horrified gaggle of the white-faced children staring at him in fascination across the hedge. He fled splashing through the beck and away up the pasture in panic with his stick, his bandy pullover clad legs dripping with water. Green weeds from the beck had festooned his bottom bestowing upon him the appearance of a long tail like some hideous satyr like mythical creature, only his flat cap to betray his origins!

He arrived back at his cottage panting and soaked to find the wife waiting for him having come home a bit earlier than expected. His heart sank as he saw her standing, waiting. The broom was in her hands and she knew how to use it!

She looked goggle eyed at the approaching Bertie and wondered in her slow mind what awful fate could have befallen him in her short absence as, in all their years of a marriage in which they just and only just tolerated each other She had never seen such a display! She was a creature of little imagination but this sight had at first shocked her but then she began to appreciate the ridiculous spectacle she began to chuckle! This dumbfounded the dripping Bertie as the only other time he remembered her laughing was when he fell into the cesspit . He stood before her stock still watching the tears of mirth roll down her cheeks! He was genuinely amazed and a bit scared but not knowing how to deal with this strange situation he began to grin himself. As his dull mind took in the preposterousness of the scene the grin became roars of hysterical laughter as he capered from foot to foot in his huge hobnailed boots as the wife doubled over in breathless hysteria!

They eventually retreated into the cottage holding each other up and repaired to bed.

Not a single word was spoken of the incident ever again by either of them.

The school was agog with the tale that was becoming more and more lurid with the telling. The exaggerated descriptions of the grim sight on the stile had imbued Bertie with legendary attributes and an athleticism that would have defeated an Olympic champion but alas he was forever unaware of his legendary status,© MPL.