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.
