The Song of Wharfedale
Foremost and first of High Greenfield I'll tell,
Where you'll find Jeffery and Ninian as well;
Jeff is renowned for the pigeons he's shot,
Ninian is known for the photo's he's got,
Low Greenfield I'll sing with its grand shooting box,
Its weathercock swinging - I think it's a fox.
Albert is coachman and butler as well,
While Ned rears the stock for John Gill to sell,
Beckermonds comes next in the valley so low,
There you'll find Foster and Beresford also.
Foster's a man with a heart for the grouse,
Beresford sings a good song in Lodge House.
Let's call at George Beresford's up at Cowside,
He holds the New House, but he doesn't there stay,
Nothing lives there but a ghost as folks say.
Deepdale comes next at the foot of Sty Gill,
With Peacock and Rowland and Ottie and Will.
Peacock has fame for the lambs he could raise,
Ottie's a horse judge that all men can praise.
Turnbull is next and he keeps a good shop,
Nothing he's short of from needles to pop.
Granny is cosy just in the next street,
A nicer old lady no one can meet.
Look how Willie Thwaite can live at his ease
With winning such prizes for butter and cheese.
Margaret knits on in her neat little cot,
Chapman and Wylie make up a good lot.
Netherghyll comes next, but no one lives there,
So Frank minds the stock with very great care.
Swarthghyll is bonny, and cannot be dull,
They caught the big fish, and tried to dill t'bull
Cam Houses are yonder; up the hillside,
Sander and Alick and Bob there reside.
Beautiful Wharfedale, so sweet and so fair,
Nowhere in England can with thee compare!
At Yockenthwaite dwelling, with pick and with spade,
Old George for a long time our good roads has made.
Beresford John with his gun he goes out,
While Lodge, Tom and Anty are somewhere about.
Raisgill's the next spot just over the green,
Captain's good bottle can often be seen.
Ottiwell's gone over there to reside and brought his
fair wife to live by his side.
Grace Pawson's the next, she keeps the George Inn,
Many a good Dalesman ken's th' taste of her gin.
Hard by lives the parson, he's very good,
While old Edmund Dixon's snug under the wood.
Ben Lofthouse loves Cray and his White Lion Inn,
While his grand trotting horse the prizes does win.
Robinson's out on his land near and far,
It's there you'll find Dick Hill, Lambert and Sahr.
Now back we return to Oughtershaw Hall,
Its fir trees, flowers, and grand waterfall.
Look in at the school and you'll see Mr Simms
Teaching bairns songs, recitations and hymns.
No-one sings the song nowadays at The George Inn, Hubberholme, but they have heard of it. So has Violet Robinson of Hazlewood, though she cannot remember the words or the tune. The Skipton Folk Club are looking into the enigma of its origins and music.