Devonshire Characters and Strange Events

Come wi’out the ring wi’ me.”
So he did stand, his sword in hand,
I knocked it from his hand,
Then three or vour gurt toads came up
And knocked me down on t’ land.

Along came one of Plymouth town,
Prentice to Uncle Cross,
Wot run away ’bout a bastard child,
A terrible lad he wos.
Said he, “Don’t sarve the young man so,
’Tes an onmanly thing;
Pick up the lad, put him on board
That he may sarve the King.”

They took me up by neck and heels,
They dra’ed me to the boat,
The master came ’longside of me
Wi’, “Send the lubber afloat.”
They took me up by neck and heels,
They dra’ed me to the say,
But Providence a-ordered it
I shuldn’t be killed that way.

They picked me out, put me aboard
A ship then in the Sound,
The waves and winds did blow and roar,
I thought I shu’d be drown’d.
Then one called “Tack!” another “Ship!”
A third cried “Helm a lee!”
Lor’ bless’y, I dun knaw Tack from Ship,
An’ Helm to me’s Chinee.

The Master ordered I aloft,
’Twas blawin’ cruel hard,
And there was three or vour gurt chaps
A grizzlin’ in the yard.
When down came mast and down came yard,
Then down came I likewise.
Lor’ bless’y! if the church tower vaall’d,
’Twouldn’t make half the noise.

Some vaall’d o’erboard, and some on deck,
Some had a thundrin’ thump,
The Master ordered all hands up
For pumpin’ at the pump.
Us pumpéd at the pump, my boys,
And no one dared to squeak,
The Master ordered all below
To stop a thunderin’ leak.

When us had stoppéd up that leak
A French ship us spied comin’,
The Master orders all to fight
And the drummer to be drummin’.
So when the French ship came ’longside,
A broadside us let flee,
Lor’ bless’y! what for smoke and vire
Us couldn’t smell nor see.

The Master wi’ his cocked-up hat
He flourishéd his sword,
Wi’ “Come and follow me, brave boys,
I warn’t we’ll try to board.”
I vollowed he thro’ thick and thin,
Tho’ bless’y I culdn’t see’n;
The gurt French chap was on to he
Wi’ sword both long and keen.

I rinn’d up to the Master’s help,
I niver rinn’d no vaster,
I zed unto the gurt French chap,
“Now don’t ee hurt the Master!”
Then “Wee, wee, wee, parlez vous Frenchee!”
He zed – I reck’n he cuss’d —
But “Darny,” sez I, “if that’s your game,
I reck’n I must kill ee fust.”

The Master jumped ’bout the French ship
And tore down all her colours,
And us jumped ’bout the French ship, too,
A whoppin’ them foreign fellers.
As for the chap as Master threat’n’d
I beat that Parley-vous,
From the niddick down his lanky back,
Till he squeaked out “Mortbleu!”

Now here’s a lesson to volks ashore,
And sich as ostlers be,
Don’t never say Die, and Tain’t my trade,
But listen, and mark of me.
There’s nobody knaws wot ee can do,
Till tried – now trust me well,
Why – us wos ostlers and ort beside,
Yet kicked the Frenchies to – Torpoint.

Carew gives us an account of the way in which wrestling was conducted in the West of England in the days of Charles I. “The beholders cast or form themselves into a ring, in the empty space whereof the two champions step forth, stripped into their dublets and hosen, and untrussed, that they may so the better command the use of their lymmes; and first, shaking hands, in token of friendship, they fall presently to the effects of anger; for each striveth how to take hold of the other with his best advantage, and to bear his adverse party downe; whereas, whosoever overthroweth his mate, in such sort, as that either his backe, or the one shoulder, and contrary heele do touch the ground, is accounted to give the fall. If he be only endangered, and makes a narrow escape, it is called a foyle.”

He then adds: “This pastime also hath his laws, for instance; of taking hold above the girdle – wearing a girdle to take hold by – playing three pulls for trial of the mastery, the fall-giver to be exempted from playing again with the taker, but bound to answer his successor. Silver prizes for this and other activities, were wont to be carried about, by certain circumforanei, or set up at bride-ales, but time or their abuse hath now worn them out of use.” Double play was when two who had flung the rest contested at the close for the prize.