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| Billy Watson' Lonnin, Harrington, Cumbria |
THIS ballad was written by dialect poet Alexander Craig Gibson and was first published in 1874 – the year that Gibson died. Amazingly, the lonning still exists in Harrington, Cumbria (Gibson's place of birth). It’s a delightful poem about the lonning and how it was the author’s favourite spot to take a young lady. It’s made all the more atmospheric by Gibson’s inclusion of many other local place names: Hempgarth Brow, Clay-Dubs, Lowca Lonning and so forth. A huge debt is owed to Harrington History Group for identifying where many of these locations are (see Harrington Through The Years Book Six). They also did some fine detective work on who Billy Watson might have been. At the end of the day, we can only be sure his name was Billy Watson and he lived near the lonning that now bears his name. Surely, it’s not such an awful legacy that the only proof of your existence on earth is the name of a beautiful country lane near to where you lived.
* A word on that apostrophe. The grammar geeks will be querying the apostrophe on “Billy Watson’ Lonning”. Surely, it must be Billy Watson’s Lonning? Perhaps it should but that was how the title of the ballad appeared when it was first published so I’ve left it in its dialect form.
O for Billy Watson’ lonnin of a lownd summer neeght!
When t’ stars come few and flaytely, efter weerin’ oot day-leeght
When t’ black-kite blossom shews itsel’ i’ hafe-seen gliffs o’grey
An’ t’ honey-suckle’s scentit mair nor iver it is i’ t’ day.
An’ nut a shadow, shap, or soond, or seeght, or sign at’ tells
‘At owte ‘at’s wick comes santerin’ theer but you, yer oan two sel’s.
Ther’ cannot be annuder spot so private an’ so sweet,
As Billy Watson’ lonnin’ of a lownd summer neeght!
T’ Hempgarth Broo’s a cheersome pleace when t’ whins bloom full o’ flooar –
Green Hecklebank turns greener when it’s watter’t wid a shooar –
There’s bonnie neuks aboot Beckside, Stocks-hill, an’ Greystone Green –
High Woker Broo gi’es sec a view as isn’t offen seen –
It’s glorious doon ont’ Sandy-beds when t’ sunn’s just gan to set –
An t’ Clay-Dubs isn’t far aslew when t’ wedder isn’t wet;
But nin was mead o’ purpose theer a bonny lass to meet
Like Billy Watson’ lonnin of a still summer neeght.
Yan likes to trail ow’r t’ Sealand-fields an’ watch for t’ commin’ tide,
Or slare whoar t’Green hes t’ Ropery an’ t’ Shore of ayder side –
T’ Weddriggs road’s a lal-used road, an’ reeght for coortin toke –
An’ Lowca’ lonnin’s reeght for them ‘at like a langsome woke -
Yan’s reeght aneuf up t’ Lime-road, or t’ Waggon way, or t’Ghyll,
An’ reeght for ram’lin’s Cunning-wood or Scatter-mascot hill.
Ther’s many spots ‘at’s reeght aneuf, but nin o’ ways so reeght
As Billy Watson’ lonnin’ of a lownd summer neeght.
Sec thowtes as thur com’ thick lang sen to yan, a lonterin’ lad,
Wid varra lal to brag on but a sperrit niver sad,
When he went strowlin’ far an’ free aboot his sea-side heam,
An’ stamp’t a mark upon his heart of ivery frind-like neam;–
A mark ‘at seems as time drees on to deepen mair an’ mair –
A mark ‘at ola’s breeghten meast i’ t’ gloom o’ comin’ care;
But nowte upon his heart has left a mark at hods so breeght
As Billy Watson’ lonnin’ of a lownd summer neeght!
Oor young days may’d be wastet sair, but dar their mem’ry’s dear!
And what wad yan not part wid noo agean to hev them here?
Whativer trubles fash’t us than, though nayder leet nor few,
They niver fash’t us have so lang as less an’s fash us noo;
If want o’ thowte brong bodderment, it pass’t for want o’ luck,
An’ what cared we for Fortun’s bats, hooiver feurce she struck?
It mud be t’ time o’ life ‘at mead oor happiness complete
I’ Billy Watson’ lonnin’ of a lownd summer neeght!
Some help with the dialect
Lownd, calm. flaytely, timidly.
black-kites, blackberries
gliffs, brief looks, glimpses
la'al, little
wick, busy, lively
toke, your bethrothed (your ‘taken’)
aslew, amiss
slare, walk slowly
langsome, lonesome
woke, walk
lonterin’ lad, loitering lad
sair, very much
fash’d, bothered
brong bodderment, brought anxiety
