Postal Path Guides

MY thanks to everyone for their interest in my book, The Postal Paths, which tells the story of the rural postmen and women who walked up to 20 miles a day delivering post to the most remote homes and farms in Britain. Many have also asked for more details on the precise routes so they can walk them too. They are all public paths and I only picked out the more picturesque paths! Remember to take an OS map and compass as some of the routes can be a bit 'vague'. And you may wish to wait until good weather although the posties walked them in all weathers of course.

Ambleside, Cumbria: Walked by Jean Brennand in the 1940s. This a gentle uphill climb from Ambleside to the Kirkstone Inn. It takes about three hours to get there and back.

Boot, Eskdale, Cumbria: The joy of this walk is that you can catch the La'al Ratty steam train from Ravenglass into Dalegarth (Boot). From there you follow this footsteps of Ben Vicars through the valley and up on to Birker Fell. Allow three hours (checking the time of the last train back!). It is a steep climb onto the fell but otherwise a gentle walk. There is a nice spot on the fell to have a packed lunch.

Dentdale, Cumbria: Perhaps the best way to reach this path is on the famous Carlisle to Settle line, jumping off at the picturesque Dent station. The path runs through people's back gardens (!) but is a public footpath and as long as you behave and keep dogs on a lead you will be warmly welcomed by the friendly folk of Dentdale. Going through back gardens was an obvious shortcut for the postman who served these farms as it saved him walking back onto the main road and along to the next farm. Dent has plenty of places to eat/drink as well as a wonderful history museum.

Eskdale Green, Cumbria: Another postal path that you can access via the La'al Ratty steam train from Ravenglass in Cumbria. It was walked by La'al Hannah (La'al is dialect for 'little') during her 61 years' service as a rural postwoman. This follows part of her route (she also delivered to the homes in the village of Eskdale Green). It is a 3-mile stretch out to the remote farm of Low Place in Miterdale. 

Glenridding, Cumbria: Incredibly, this scenic route over a Cumbrian fell was served by postman George 'The Post' Teasdale on a GPO bike (which famously didn't have gears). However, I would recommend walking it. The path takes you from Glenridding to the former lead mines and then a steep climb onto the fell. It is a gentle but narrow path back down the other side of the fell past Seldom Seen cottages and back to the main road before a short walk back into Glenridding.

Lorton, Cumbria: This is a gentle afternoon walk suitable for families. Refreshments are available in the village shop (previously the post office) and the walk takes you through the valley. You can even glimpse the famous Lorton Yew tree.

Shap, Cumbria: This is a very tough walk stretching 15 miles or more through Swindale, over Ralfland Fell and back through Wet Sleddale. Do take an OS map, compass and suitable clothing. It will take 5 or 6 hours. Park in Shap and lunch at the Birchwood cafe or other eating places in the town. The postman had to walk an extra 3 miles to Mosedale Bothy for six weeks of the year when the shepherd was living there (it is now a bothy) but you may wish to leave that excursion for another day.

Elsie's Walk, Stiperstones, Shropshire: This walk has been marked out and promoted by Elsie Rowson's family. Full details are available on the dedicated website.

The Simon Evans Way, Shropshire: The Cleobury Mortimer Footpath Association promote and maintain this walk through the Rea valley which recalls the route walked by rural postman, writer and broadcaster Simon Evans. Find out more about this remarkable man and the route he walk on the Simon Evans Way website.

Rhenigidale, Isle of Harris, Scotland: This dramatic route on the Isle of Harris was the last rural postal route to be walked. It was finally retired in 1989 when a road was built to reach the hamlet of Rhenigidale. The path was then turned into a tourist trail. It is a long and tough walk but incredibly rewarding with its views over the Atlantic. For details see the dedicated website.

Eskdale's Lost Christmas Carol

An Eskdale Christmas Carol

The following is to be found in the handwritten journal of W. S. Sykes at Whitehaven Archives (YDSO 81/1/2) dating from the 1920s. The text has a Victorian flavour and the tune is possibly the traditional carol: What Shall We Sing At Christmas? I am aware that Grasmere has its own Christmas carol so it was nice to discover that Eskdale has one too. Does anyone know any more about it? The lownin (lonning) is Parson's Passage but I didn't know about the figure above Christcliff (is this where the name Christ-cliff comes from?). And I don't quite understand the obsession with grey lichen - is that a special feature in Eskdale? In any case, it would be lovely to hear this sung again in the valley so if there are any singing groups planning a Christmas concert, help yourself!

----------

The following lines were sent to me by the Rev J W Hall, late vicar of Eskdale. Also received them from a parishioner, Miss Hillou, at Christmas 1927.

What shall we sing, what shall we sing

As a cradle song for our baby King?

Of a lonely Dale and rough stone walls

And the music of many waterfalls

Of St Catherine's church and her holy well

Of a figure stretched across a fell?*

Of a narrow lownin** and lichen grey

And Dalesfolk tramping the churchward way

Is this a song HE would like to hear

If we sing with voices sweet and clear?

What shall we bring, what shall we bring

As a birthday gift for our Baby King

Shall we gather HIM the lichen grey

On Christmas morn as we went our way

To St Catherine's Church on the river shore

There to greet Him and adorn

Grey lichen - but now for all to see

All stained with red as a Holly Tree

As red as red as our saviour's blood

Which He shed for us on the Holy Rood

As red as the wine of the Heavenly food

Shall we gather HIM lichen upon our way

Grey lichen - but now all red and grey.

The lichens a symbol from you and me

That grey and poor as our lives may be

Yet given to HIM they become all gay

Then let us take lichen to HIM today

Let us give our lives to our Baby King

And ask him to perfect our offering

That our sinful lives may be cleansed by his blood

And our selfish lives crossed by His Holy Rood

Our feeble lives straightened by Heavenly good

Our souls and bodies are the gifts we bring

This Christmas tide to our Baby King

If these we offer, if these we bring

Then, as a cradle song - we may sing

Of a lonely Dale and rouge stone walls

And the music of many waterfalls

Of St Catherine's Church and her holy well

Of a figure stretched across a fell

Of a narrow lownin and lichen grey

And Dalesfolk tramping churchward way

Quite sure our giving will make HIM glad

That little Kingley Peasant lad.

* Above Christcliff, the Rev J W Hall believes that the conformation of the fell with his hangers and ridges had a strange resemblance to a human form stretched across the fell, as if on a cross.

** The lownin is the church road - very narrow and walked from near the Vicarage (also from Dalegarth) to Bell Hill.

---end----

An account of the ancient little people, later called fairies, who lived in the hills of Eskdale and Millom

THERE are two large handwritten journals in Whitehaven Archives that were written in the early 20th Century by the local vicar (Revd Sykes) and detail much of the history of Eskdale and Millom, on the western edge of Cumbria. The books have not been transcribed and much of it replicates church records that are also available in the archives. However there are also chapters entitled 'gossip' and 'scraps' which detail local tales and legends. Among these are details of stories about fairies in the district. I haven't had time yet to go through the whole journal but here is one extract:

"Stories of the Fairies were very difficult to obtain as the dalesmen were much afraid that they were being made fun of by the enquirer. There is little doubt however that the belief that they were a real people existed in the dales till quite recent times. At Dalegarth for example the corn that had been put ready for flail which was still in occasional use in my time was often found threshed in the morning. And the churning at Millom Castle had frequently been finished before the housewife appeared in the morning.

"There were certain gifts which the Little people would accept and others which they treated with scorn - but my memory does not serve me to give what I was told in my MSS book of Eskdale notes which was destroyed after I left the dale. The late Vicar Rev J Hall however has recorded that any one who feared malevolence on the part of the fairies used to make a sound like the sharpening of knives. This accords with a story told me by a lady at Harrogate whose forbears were from a Yorks dale; if a woman had to leave the house unattended she would often lay a knife across the doorstep. One story from Cumberland - a certain family was troubled by the Elfin tricks of our little people and determined to rid themselves of this bugbear by doing a surreptitious flitting from the house. Every thing was packed and they were just turning away from the house when a neighbour who knew the trouble met them and said 'I see you are flitting'. He was answered by a thing piping screech from somewhere no one could see in the packed cart "Yes we're a flitting".

An old man who worked at Water Bleau (?) used to tell tales of the tricks played upon him by Fairies but some times they would bring their fairy pipes found in underground passage of the quarry. Some of these were given ? as old tobacco pipes. The old farm house at Water Blaue (?) was pulled down many years ago - it was shaped somewhat like the letter E without the middle 

"It was noted for the following story:

"There used to be two skulls laid on the staircase window. No one knew their history. Attempts were often made to get rid of them but without success. They were sometimes taken away and hidden, some even buried but they were always found next morning in their accustomed place on the stair window sill. The people of the house got used to this and let them remain but if any strange visitor tried to eject the gruesome objects, it was no use - they always returned before morning. My informant said that people passing on the road used to keep wary eye on the house till they were safely passed. But nothing uncanny was ever seen or known to happen."

-----

My Notes:

The story of the skulls is very similar to the famous Calgarth Skulls story.

The Millom fairy (also called hobthross or hobthrush) is told in more detail in Lays and Legends of the English Lake Country by John Pagen White (1873).

N.B. The accounts are in 2 large notebooks of Revd. William Slater Sykes. Ask for YDSO 81 at Whitehaven archives.

Postman's Paths

The Postman's Path at Holmrook, Cumbria

MY tweet on 1st January 2023 sparked rather more interest than I expected in my latest project to rediscover and walk some of the Postman's Paths in Great Britain so I thought I had better breathe new life into this blog with some background on the subject.

Who am I? Alan Cleaver - a former journalist, now an author of books on local walks in my home county of Cumbria. I've previously published 'Corpse Roads of Cumbria' and 'Get Lost' in addition to other books and booklets.

What is a Postman's Path? A path used by rural postmen and women up until the 1970s (when the Post Office decided to deliver everything by van - bikes were phased out in 2014) to reach remote farms and homes. Although I use the term 'postmen' for brevity there were just as many 'postwomen'; 'Postie' is a more generic term used in some parts of the UK. The paths often  already existed but in some instances they were officially or unofficially created as short-cuts by the postman. Most paths were about 10 or 12 miles long but some were 18 miles or more. Some were circular routes and other linear - the postman returning the same way he came later in the day. 

Why are they of interest? Simply because many of them are nice walks. But the rural postman has played an important part in the country's social history and their routes and work should probably be recorded.

Is there a Postman's Path near me? Almost certainly but there is no catalogue or gazetteer listing them all. Start by asking your local history society or older postmen. Rural postmen had route cards which defined the precise routes they had to take but very few of these remain. Your local archive office may have newspaper cuttings or books detailing the lives of the rural postmen and women in your area. Some work is involved but the exciting thing is that this is your chance to be the first to record and walk many of these paths.

How can I walk Postman's Paths around the UK? A number of old postal paths have been promoted as tourist walks. Scotland has stolen the march on this and ScotWays lists a number of postman's paths as part of its Heritage Paths project. You'll also find some Cumbrian ones detailed by me in my book, Get Lost. I've also included one or two on this blog (see entry below). I hope to publish a book specifically on Postman's Paths early in 2024.

I've found a Postman's Path near me. What should I do now? Spread the word! Certainly, write up your research and detail the route. Log this with your local history society so it's preserved for future generations. Then set about promoting the walk in your community; perhaps the local council or tourist authority would be happy to help (see what has been achieved at Stiperstones, Shropshire with Elsie's Walk).

Useful links:

• My Google map of references I've found about Postman's Paths in the UK and intend to follow up.
• An article about the project published in The Guardian in 2022.
• A typical Postman's Path - this one from Boot, Eskdale, Cumbria

Boot Postman's Path

I am researching the Postman's Paths of old - those paths taken by rural postmen to shortcut between farms and rural homes. They ceased to be used in the early 1970s when Royal Mail decided to use vans instead. This is the one that postman Ben Vicars served in the 1940s and 1950s in Boot, Eskdale, Cumbria. I've sketched it out as a short walk (it takes two to three hours and is easy to follow). I'm posting it here so people can try it out - let me know what you think! (alanjcleaver@gmail.com). P.S. There is also a high-res version here that you can download and print.

Visible Music - a review

I'm not sure how I would react if my doctor told me I had a life-threatening illness but I would probably run away to some Scottish island. That's what poet Martyn Halsall did and it's an understandable reaction. 

While there he recorded in poems his thoughts and emotions about the cancer - and about the world he saw around him.

Thankfully his cancer is now in remission and, also thankfully, he has published those poems in a collection called, Visible Music.

There's something voyeuristic in reading over Martyn's shoulder his most intimate and personal thoughts during those dark days but there is fortunately also much light to be found in the poetry. 

To many people Martyn already lives in a distant and remote place (Santon Bridge in West Cumbria) so probably had no need to seek out some Scottish island. But a thin place on the edge of the world is precisely where you need to be to face life - and death - full in the face and try to make sense of the world.

These poems are not all about cancer and all the dread that six-letter word brings. Many talk about the beauty of the natural world, the history and culture of places Martyn finds on his pilgrimage and celebrate the landscape's flora and fauna.

I have said before that it is Martyn's eye for detail which makes his poetry sparkle. Perhaps it is the former journalist in him which enables him to see in a crumbling building, a weathered sign or the face of a lone traveller the inspiration for his poetry. Martyn recognises, as Blake wrote, that you can see heaven in a wild flower and infinity in the palm of your hand. And so a stray Biro "loaded with words", nasturtium seeds or a tea-stained mug all offer doorways into the strange, wonderful and scary world that Martyn must encounter on his journey.

It is one we know we will all face at some point in our lives so Visible Music in one sense is a guidebook that will be a welcome companion. This collection may have its roots in a dark day but it is overall a celebration of our world and our lives which readers will want to keep close; a reminder, if one is needed, of all we should be grateful for.

Visible Music by Martyn Halsall is published by Caldew Press, £9 and is available from Martyn on martynhalsall22@gmail.com.

The true Loweswater corpse road

THE first edition of our book, Corpse Roads of Cumbria, repeated the mistake that the corpse road from Loweswater towards St Bees went along the side of the valley. This was an error promoted by the National Trust but diligent historical research by Dr Roger Asquith has shown it actually goes along the bottom of the valley through Holme Wood. This makes sense and it actually makes a nice circular walk, going along the corpse road and then coming back via the valley-side path. Here is the revised chapter...

THE National Trust and other websites have promoted a path running through High Nook Farm and skirting under Burnbank Fell as the Loweswater Corpse Road. However, we are grateful to Dr Roger Asquith, a retired research engineer with an interest in local history, for discovering this is an error and the path through Holme Wood is almost certainly the true corpse road.

He points out the Loweswater Enclosure map shows the higher path, in 1865/6, whereas the first edition of the Ordnance Survey map (OS1) of 1863/4 did not show it. Hence we know the age of the path to within a year or so.   This higher road therefore dates back just over 150 years – some way short of the corpse road era over 600 years ago.  Indeed,  Dr Asquith also notes that the vicar of Loweswater in 1929  – J Rowland – wrote of “the tradition, which still exists in the parish… the dead from Loweswater used to be carried via the ‘corpse road’ through Holmwood, for burial at St Bees” (A Few Notes on the Church & Parish).

Dr Asquith adds: “The Maggies Lonning - Watergate - Hudson Place - Jenkinson Place - Iredale Place - Fangs path shown on the OS1 (surveyed in 1863/4) was the ancient way on the south side of the lake, linking the habitations before heading off towards Lamplugh. Clear from the maps and on the ground is the fact that this ancient track was well made, well defined and important. Until modern times it had a wall on either side before emerging onto and crossing the common to join the Fangs to Lamplugh road.”

Research by Derek Denman indicates parochial status was granted to Loweswater in 1403 and ‘the dead have not been carried to St Bees for over 600 years’. Dr Asquith adds: “What was formerly The Holme, now Holme Wood, was finally enclosed after much dispute, in about 1597 so, at the time of the corpse road, beyond Watergate lay open common.”

We’re grateful to Dr Asquith for ‘restoring’ the correct corpse road route and there’s an extra advantage: For the most part the corpse road through Holme Wood is a well-made wheelchair-friendly path making it accessible to many more people. It’s only as it climbs towards Fangs Brow that that path gets tougher. The higher path may have been incorrectly promoted as a corpse road but it is nonetheless a path that offers breath-taking views of the fells and you may wish to use it to make your return journey for a different perspective of Loweswater.

Shortly after leaving St Bartholomew’s Church, the corpse road drops down into the valley through Maggie’s Lonning. ‘Lonning’ is a dialect term for ‘lane’ and most of the lonnings surviving in the county are still only footpaths. Maggie’s Lonning is now a tarmacked road but has not lost all of its character. It is a single track road (NY 136 210) that leads to the impossibly-small car park by Loweswater. We suggest only trying to use this car park midweek in the middle of winter. It quickly gets full-up and there is almost nowhere to turn round once you are stuck in the traffic jam. It’s a Lake District feature that needs a serious rethink. There is not much parking elsewhere in the valley so we recommend parking in one of the lay-bys beside the lake or by the side of the road at Fangs Brow (and therefore do the corpse road in reverse). Since the corpse road is essentially one half of a round-the-lake walk it does not matter too much where you start.

This is a lovely walk but there’s not much history or legend to go with it. However author HC Ivison includes an intriguing entry in her book, Supernatural Cumbria (2010) about a ghostly funereal procession apparently witnessed by the lake: “The apparitions of three nuns carrying what appeared to be a shrouded corpse, was a reported unexplained event that made the national newspapers. It was in the early 1920s, and four young ex-soldiers were walking along by Loweswater Lake in the moonlight, when they witnessed this sight. In spite of later ridicule, they held to their story and the fact that they were sober. Frank Carruthers comments that local records attest to an apparently similar apparition being seen by several witnesses some 21 years before, which would make it around the turn of the 19th and 20th Century. There is as far as my present knowledge goes, neither explanation, or any story or legend that might possibly account for these events. Local folklore does talk of monks and a monastery in Loweswater Valley but thus far no mention of nuns.”

It’s a fascinating and suggestive tale but we have been unable to find the report in any newspapers or any mention in the works of Frank Carruthers.

Corpse Roads of Cumbria is available from bookshops.

Passing Place by Martyn Halsall - a review

Passing Place by Martyn Halsall
Review by Alan Cleaver

IT must take a certain level of cruelty to send someone in lockdown a book of poems about walking in the open countryside.
But Passing Place by poet Martyn Halsall did at least conjure up those wild parts of Britain I was missing and offered me some solace during those difficult days spent imprisoned in my home.
Halsall, who lives in west Cumbria and was formerly poet in residence at Carlisle Cathedral, is our guide through some of the sacred places to be found in Britain - those 'thin places' where the boundary between the physical world and the spiritual one becomes blurred.
It's not the first time Halsall has found inspiration on his pilgrimages but this collection of around 20 poems seems to offer new depth and insight.
And once again it is his eye for detail which helps us to see in even the most barren landscapes something of beauty or history which can enlighten or inspire us. Halsall can find poetry and meaning even in a discarded piece of blue twine and while holding it up for us to see can pan out to introduce us to the characters and the landscape beyond.
The curious typography of a tombstone, a memorial plaque or copperplate handwriting on old documents all provide a way in to a richer world which will send the reader off to Google (and hopefully post-lockdown to the landscape itself) to discover more. Like the scared places he writes about, it's a world where the spirits of the past wander freely with the living so expect to meet Saints and as easily as you might meet the residents of the Isle of Lewis.
Halsall has been a man of words all his life so it's not surprising to discover he can paint the landscape with just a few strokes of his keyboard - a scrap of land is "an afterthought of Pennines" and there are part-time islands to navigate.
He makes it look easy but I suspect it took more than just dipping a nib to come up with these charming delights.
They are poems you can read once and enjoy but read them a second or third time and you'll start to learn more about these passing places and the stories they have to tell. You'll be grateful for your guide showing you that this is a world full of beauty even during its darkest days.
- Alan Cleaver

Passing Place is available at £5 (inc p&p) from martynhalsall22@gmail.com.

Postman's Paths

The Postman's Path at Caldbeck

I WAS introduced to Postman's Paths by historian Tony Vaux of Caldbeck, Cumbria. I was visiting him at his farm just outside Caldbeck and he mentioned the postman's path that went past his home. It was not a term I had heard before but he explained that the postman in the past had short-cutted across the fields when delivering post to the farms that encircle the village. There are places in the drystone walls where you can see the steps added in to aid the postman. These paths had then become recognised public footpaths and registered on OS maps - although it's doubtful that anyone else other than the postman and perhaps the farmers ever used them. 

On googling the term back home I was delighted to find that a number of people had remembered these 'postman's paths' in various parts of the country - indeed the world. Like most paths, these had been created for a specific purpose by a specific occupation. In Cumbria it's easy to think of peat-cutters paths, drovers roads and miners' trods. Perhaps the most famous Postman's Path is the one at Rhenigidale, North Harris, Scotland which is detailed by the wonderful website, Heritage Paths. An idiosyncratic piece of history has been turned into a popular tourist trail, with no doubt a welcome boost to the local economy. In this instance, it's unlikely the postman created the path but he certainly walked it and popularised it. There's a lovely short film available on YouTube where they interview the former postman, Kenny Mackay.

I included the Caldbeck postman's path and a couple of others in my book, Get Lost, along with a couple more such paths that can be found in Cumbria. Since publishing the book I've also begun researching these paths further and hope we can save more of these before they vanish from history. I doubt any postmen still walk long distances across the fells these days, relying instead on motorised transport. So if we don't record these paths while they're still on the edge of living memory they will be lost for ever. If you know of any, do drop me a line.

Companions of Nature

"I thought of Nature's loveliest scenes;
And with Memory I was there." 
- Dorothy Wordsworth

I'M very happy to give this 'shout-out' to a much-needed anthology of Lake Poets edited by Will Smith and Polly Atkin. Companions of Nature recalls to life some of the shamefully neglected Cumbrian poets and balladeers including Susanna Blamire, Robert Anderson, John Stagg and Sara Coleridge. William Wordsworth is included of course but also Dorothy Wordsworth and a healthy balance of female poets. Robert Southey's The Cataract of Lodore is finally republished alongside other 'lost' classics including Richardson's |It's Nobbut Me and Anderson's The Cummerlan Farmer.

There is occasional dialect but it's soft and something to chew over after the simplicity of the likes of Sara Coleridge's The Months. The poems and their sentiments remain relevant dealing with the beauty - or terror - of the Lake District landscape, love, death, romance and humour. What a delight to see such charming poems as Quillinan's The Birch of Silver How and Blamire's The Siller Croun (And She Shall Walk In Silk Attire).

This is a collection of over 40 poems offering a chance to discover or re-discover Cumbria's finest poets. It's a keepsake for tourists or essential bedside reading for locals. My only criticism is that it would have been nice to have had a short biography and background to the poets. But, hey, that's what Google was invented for!

• Companions of Nature: A Lake Poets Anthology edited by Will Smith and Polly Atkin. Published by Rothay Books. Available from Sam  Reads Bookshop, Grasmere or Amazon, price £6.99.

Cumbria pace-egg plays

Cumbria pace-egging

Pace-eggers performing at Ulverston around 1901

I HAVE no specific interest in pace-egg plays or their winter-time equivalent, mummer plays but they obviously crop up when researching folklore in the county. I've made copies of some of the more obscure texts that survive and publish three of them here just for the fun of it. Pace-egging was usually done at Easter with performers going door to door to enact a piece of doggerel about a hero and villain fighting. The hero was usually 'killed' but then miraculously revived to fight another day. The whole would end with a song and the hat being passed round. The scripts varied from village to village but with common themes. At Christmas the performers would dress up as mummers, wearing brightly-coloured outfits and sometimes blackening their faces. They might perform the same play they did at Easter or a different one.

Flookburgh pace-egg play

From Looking Back... Recollections of life in Cark, Flookburgh and District first published in 2008, republished in 2001

From the memories of Miss Blanche Stephenson:

"Nobody had much holidays then. You haven't got t' paste egging song like we had in them days. You used to dress up and black your face with a bit of cork, then you'd go round singing like you do at Christmas and knock on doors for money or eggs or whatever they'd gie you. Then we used to go on to Robin Howe to roll our eggs."

Flookburgh Paste* Egg Play

(This should be 'pace' or 'pasche' - Alan Cleaver)

We are two or three jolly boys
All in one mind
We've come a paste egging
If you will prove kind
If you will prove kind with your eggs and strong beer
We'll come no more paste egging till the next year

Chorus: With a folda ay oddle ay oddle ay oh
Folds ay oddle ay a

The first to come in is Lord Nelson you see
A bunch of blue ribbon tied to his knee
A star on his breast like silver does shine
He hopes you'll remember it's paste-egging time

Repeat Chorus

The next to come in is a jovial Jack Tar
He said with Lord Nelson all during the last war
He's arrived from sea old England to view
He hopes you'll remember our jolly crew

Repeat Chorus

The next to come in is old Tosspot you see
He's a valiant old man in every degree
He's a valiant old man and he wears a pigtail
And all his delight is in drinking mulled ale

Repeat Chorus

The last to come in is old Liza Brown bags
For fear of her money she wears her old rags
She's got gold, she's got silver all laid up in store
She's come a paste egging to try to get more

Repeat Chorus

Now Ladies and Gentlemen sitting by the fire
Put your hands in your pockets that's all we desire
Put your you hands in your pockets and pull out your purse
And give us a trifle you'll find it no worse

Repeat Chorus

Ulverston pace-egg play

This script is from the Feb 1900 edition of the North Lonsdale magazine - a copy of which can be found at the Armitt Museum and Library at Ambleside. The author is  (Rev) T.N. Postlethwaite who Google tells me was Vicar of Urswick, near Ulverston from 1903-26 and an antiquarian.

OPENING DITTY

Here come two or three jolly boys all in one mind,
We've come a pace-egging and hope you'll prove kind,
We hope you'll prove kind with your eggs and strong beer,
And we'll come no more nigh you until the next year.
Fol de ra, fol de riddle la ral li da.

The first to come in is a bold Turkish knight,
From far distant county quite ready to fight,
He will meet with St. George and will fight with him here,
And show him a hero knows nothing of fear.
Fol de ra, fol de riddle la ral li da.

The next to come in is old Tosspot you see,
A valiant old fellow in every degree,
He's a hump on his back and he wears a pig-tail,
And all his delight is in drinking mulled ale,
Fol de ra, fol de riddle la ral li da.

The last to come in is our Betty Brown Bags,
For fear of her money she goes in old rags,
She's a purse for her money, a basket for eggs,
If you'll give her a trifle it's all that she begs,
Fol de ra, fol de riddle la ral li da.

PLAY.

(Enter Tosspot).
Hello, Hello. In comes I who never came yet,
Big head and little wit, but let my wit be ever so small,
I and my Pompey will wallop you all
(shakes his stick at audience).
Stir up the fire and strike a light,
For in this house we mean to fight,
If you won't believe the word I say,
In steps S. George and clears the way.

(Enter S. George).

In steps I, S. George, the noble champion bold,
With my right hand and glittering sword,
I've won £10,000 in gold,
'Twas I that fought the fiery dragon and brought him down to slaughter,
And by these means I've won my Queen, the King of Egypt's daughter,

(Enter Turk).

In come I bold Turk, brave slasher is my name,
I've fought in many an awful fight, and always won the game.

(S. George)
The game Sir, the game Sir, its not in thy power,
I'll cut thee in slices in less than half an hour,
I'll chop thee, I'll chop thee as small as flies,
And send thee over land and sea to make mince pies.
(threatens with his sword).

(Bold Turk).
Mince pies hot, mince pies cold,
I'll send thee to the Devil before three days are told.
(pulls S. George's nose.)

(S. George).
What is that thou say'st?

(Bold Turk).
What I say I mean to do.

(S. George).
Pull out thy purse and pay.

(Bold Turk).
No, no my lad, before I'll pay
I'll draw my sword and fight my way.

(S. George).
(with swagger)
My head is made of iron, my body's made of steel,
My hands and arms are knuckley bones,
I'll fight thee on this field.

(Bold Turk).
Thy challenge is accepted, to thee I'll never yield,
Till thou and I have conquered upon this bloody field)
(They fight, St G. kills B.T.)

(Enter Betty Brown Bags).
S. George, S George what hast thou done?
Thou'st been and slain my only son,
My only son, my only heir,
Can'st thou not see him bleeding there?

(S. George).
He challenged me to fight and why should I deny?
I've let him see S. George was born to conquer or to die.
(swaggers).

(Tosspot).
Is there never a doctor to be found,
To cure this poor man of his deadly wound?
I'll give £5, £10, £15 for a doctor.

(Enter Doctor).
I'll not come under £30.

(Tosspot).
I'll give £20 for a doctor.

(Doctor).
Well as you're only a poor chap,
I'll charge you £19 19s 11 3/4d, here I am a rare good hatter.

(Tosspot).
I'm not in want of a hatter, I want a doctor.

(Doctor).
O yes, I'm Jack of all trades and master of none.

(Tosspot).
How came you to be a doctor?

(Doctor).
By my travels

(Tosspot).
How far have you travelled?

(Doctor).
From Italy, Spitaly, France and Spain,
Three tmes round the world and back again.

(Tosspot).
What is that all?

(Doctor).
Oh no, I have travelled from the tip-top of the high ocean to 90 degrees below the bottom, where I saw houses built of rounds of beef, pancakes for slates and black puddings for nails. I saw also pigs running about the streets with knives and forks in their jaws, crying out "eat me, eat me; here is a living, who would die?"

(Tosspot).
What is that all?

(Doctor).
Oh no, as I was walking up St. Paul's churchyard even the very dead rose up crying out after me "Doctor, Doctor, give me one of your never failing pills, a real awakener," I have pills for the complexion; if you rub them in at night tho' you are as red as beetroot in the morning you'll be white. They will cure a smoky chimney, they will take away the kettle's boil, they are made of cart grease, Dutch cheese, soap and castor oil.

(Tosspot).
What is that all?

(Doctor).
Oh no, I have travelled from the fire side to the stair's foot, from the stair's foot to the stair's head three times round my grand-dam's bed-stock, where I got many a leg of mouse, butter and scouse, pig-beef and ham that makes me as far and lusty as I am.

(Tosspot).
I wasn't saying anything about fat.

(Doctor).
Nor I about lean.

(Tosspot).
What are you talking about?

(Doctor).
About what I can cure.

(Tosspot).
What can you cure?

(Doctor).
The itch, the stitch, the palsy and the gout, if there are 19 devils in yon man I'll bring 20 out. Here I have in my pocket crutches for lame ducks, spectacles for blind bees, back saddles and panniers for grass-hoppers. I once cured Sir Harry Brand of a long toe nail, I'm sure it was so long (holds out his hands); surely I can bring this poor man to life again.

(Tosspot).
Then bring him to life again.

(Doctor).
How long has he been dead?

(Tosspot).
Perhaps 3 minutes and a half.

(Doctor).
I don't think he has been dead so long but I cannot bring him to life. Here I bet my watch and chain that I do.

(Tosspot).
And I'll be mine (brings out a turnip)

(Doctor).
I've a little bottle in my inside, outside, left side, right side, waistcoat pocket, which my poor grandmother gave me on her death-bed before I left Spain, she said it would bring any dead man to life again.

(Tosspot).
Then bring this man.

(Doctor).
So I will. Here lad open thy thripplety thropplety, and let a few drops of my nipplety nopplety, run down thy thripplety thropplety. Rise up, bold Turk, and fight again.

(Bold Turk).
(Stretching himself)
Where have I been all this long and wear war?

(S. George)
Fighting with the Scots and Scars.

(Bold Turk).
Pardon me S. George.

(S. George).
No pardon will I give thee but
I'll fight thee more and more
Here doctor take him away.

(Tosspot).
Put up those swords and let them rest,
For peace and quietness is the best,
If you won't believe the words I say
We'll fight it out another day.

FINAL DITTY

So here we all stand, five in a row,
As jolly good fellows as ever you saw,
We're all come a begging, we think it no crime
Such doings as there was done in old times.
Fol de ra, fol de riddle la ral li da.

So ladies and gentlemen sitting by the fire,
Put your hands in your pockets, it's all we desire,
Put your hands in your pockets, and pull out your purse,
And give us a trifle you'll not be the worse.
Fol de ra, fol de riddle la ral li da.

(Tosspot).
Some people like lean, some people like fat.
But I like something in my old hat.

(Note: Ulverston was in Lancashire but became part of Cumbria in 1974).

CLIFTON PACE EGG PLAY

In Some Westmorland Villages (compiled by the WI and published in 1957) mention is made of a Pace Egg Play from Clifton:

"There is a local rhyme connected with it (Carlin Sunday) which runs: 'Tid, Mid, Misera, Carlin, Palm and Pace Egg Day'. During the week before Good Friday the Jolly Boys went from farm to farm and cottage to cottage performing their play, or as they called it 'pace-egging'. The characters were Old Tosspot, Molly Brown Boy, Lord Nelson, King George, Jolly Jack Tar and Dr John Brown. The each went on in turn and when they had finished saying their piece they concluded with this chorus:

Now ladies and gentleman that sit by the fire

Put your hands in your pockets, that's all we desire

Put your hands in your pockets and pull out your purse

And give us a trifle, you'll not be much worse.

Their rewards were pace eggs, oranges or money. Pace, or Pasche Eggs are hard-boiled eggs cooked with onion skin or other things to colour the shells. This is still done in the village and the Women's Institute has a competition each year for the most attractive egg and the entries are sent to the Old Folks Home at Kirkby Stephen."

Some Westmorland Villages also includes reference to pace-egging at other villages:

 New Hutton: 

"The children had pace-eggs at Easter and 'pace-eggers' went from house to house singing the 'pace-egging song' and they received either pence or eggs. They dressed up to represent the six different characters: The singer-in who introduced the others; Lord Nelson, Jolly Jack Tar, Paddy fra Cork, Tosspot and Mally Brown Bags. Tosspot had a hump back and a pig-tail, and Mally Brown Bags was dressed as a woman. It is about fifty years since the last pace-egging was witnessed in New Hutton, the children today know neither tune or words.

Warcop:

The following is Mr Jack Watt's version of the Easter Pasche-Egging Song, sung by himself and others as boys, seventy years ago, when they visited farms and houses in the village. Pasche-Eggs and pennies were given to the boys by the occupants. No copy of these verses can be traced in the neighbourhood - hence this attempt to preserve it.

Here comes two or three jolly boys, all in one mind

We have come a pasche-egging, I hope you prove kind.

We hope you prove kind, with your eggs and strong beer

For we'll not come near you, until the next year.

The first who comes in, is Lord Nelson you see

With a bunch of blue ribbons tied down to his knee

A star on his breast like silver doth shine

And I hope you remember it's pasche-egging time.

The next who comes in is the bonny young lad

With the lassies around him - they are all going mad.

He kisses them so sweetly and calls them his dears

But he says he won't marry until the next year.

The next that comes in is old 'tospot' you see

He's a valiant old man in his age and degree

He's a valiant old man but he wears a pig-tail

And all his delight is in drinking mulled ale.

The next that comes in is old miser with the bags

For the sake of her money she wears her old rags.

She has gold and silver, and she keeps a pig stall

And all her delight is in making some more.

Now ladies and gentlemen who sit round the fire

Put your hands in your pocket, that's all we desire

Put your hands in your pockets, and bring out your purse

And give us a trifle - you'll not be much worse.

Some Westmorland Villages also references pace-egging at Reagill and Sleagill.

----

Scotby Mummers Play

From Scotby Village and Parish History (held at Carlisle Archives - DSO 335/9/1), typewritten manuscript compiled by the WI, dated 1934 but with later notes:

"It used to be the custom for young men to go round to all the houses on Christmas Eve disguised - faces blacked and coats turned inside out, with staves (broom handles as a rule) and sing carols and act in dumb show. They were called 'guisers'  No member could give any words that were used in Scotby, but the following was given by one who had lived a long time in Scotby but know if it from Kelso. The words were afterwards recognised by men of Scotby as having been used in their youth. The spelling is phonetic.

The party consisted of several but the principles were three in number, the knight, his adversary and the doctor. The words were:

Galatian, Galatian is my name,
Sword and pistol by my side
I hope to win the game.

The game Sir, the game sir,
Is not within your power
Your sir or I sir
Take your sword and try sir.

They fight and one falls as if dying -
Here comes old Dr Brown
The best doctor in the town
A pickle to his nose and pickle to his tongue
Rise up and sing a song."

Witherslack

Picture and text from The History of Witherslack, Meathop and Ulpha during the Twentieth Century, by Maureen James Ba Hons, 2000).

Jolly Boys (or Pace Eggers)

The Jolly Boys were revived in Witherslack in Holy Week before Easter in 1943 (From an unpublished version of the Pace Eggers Play by Edward Meryon Wilson). From an off print of Folk Lore, March 1938). Before that they were remembered in a fragmentary way until the Great War (1914-1918). The old men remembered how well received they were at the farms and given eggs, mince pies and money, silver as well as copper. The performance seems to have taken them not just all over Westmorland but Lancashire north of the Sands as well as further afield. At the beginning of the second world war many evacuees were sent to Witherslack, mostly from Liverpool and South Shields.

Originally Tosspot comes first to clear the way. He carried a stout stick with which he thumps the ground all around. He wore a top hat and his hump is made of a bundle of shavings. St George has a large helmet decorated with long streamers of coloured paper. He also wore a sash 'a la militaire' his upper lip is decorated with a burnt cork moustache and carries a sword of wood or hoop iron. The Turkish Knight is somewhat similarly equipped  but his hand and face are completely blackened.  Dr Brown wears a disguise suited to his profession: a large and extremely old-fashioned hat is usually regarded as essential. Molly Masket is dressed as an old woman and carries the basket containing eggs and other contributions. Other characters only take part in the final chorus such as Lord Nelson and Jolly Jack Tar.

THE PLAY

The hunchback seizes his staff and beating the floor with it, dances round till a sufficiently large circle is cleared for all the actors and says:-

Stir up the fire and strike a light

And see this bloody act tonight,

If you don't believe a word I say,

Step in St George and clear the way.

(St George:) In steps St George

A noble champion bold!

With my right hand and glittering sword

I've won three crowns of gold

Twas I who fought the fiery dragon

And brought him down by slaughter

And by these means I won the Queen

The King of Egypt's daughter.

The Turkish Knight steps in forward and begins:-

In steps I, bold Turk,

Black Morocco King

My sword and buckler by my side

And through the woods I ring

I'll stab thee in thy vital gorge.

I'm brave and that is what makes us good,

And through thy dearest body, George

I'll draw thy precious blood.

The challenge is accepted and the fight begins, but not without many more verses. 

The turk is slain and a doctor is called for, after boasting about his travels, St George challenges the Doctor to revive the Turk.

 'Here Jack, just take a little out of my bottle, and let it run down thy throttle, and if thou be not quite slain, rise up Jack and fight again'.

The Turk awakes saying he will have St George in another round.

The annual celebration of life was universal: fight, death, resurrection being the common factors. Then the whole company join in the following chorus, clasping hands and prancing round singing:

Here's two or three jolly boys all in one mind,

We've come a pace-egging and hope you'll prove kind

We hope you'll prove kind with your eggs and strong beer,

And we'll come no more nigh you, until next year.*

(*50 Years Ago - May 1993 from the Westmorland Gazette)

There were seven people in it with the presenter (see photo above): Winnie Butler (sitting in the front row), an evacuee billeted with the Wilson family of Fern Hill, Witherslack. From the photograph, Norman Marshall (an evacuee billetted with the Wallings at Halecote) was St George; Alan Pearson was Bold Slasher, and his sister Joan played the part of Johnny Jack. Sheila Thornburrow was Tosspot and Jean Walker was Old Miser. Words and music were written by Mrs Brunskill of Crosthwaite. They performed the play all round the village and collected £12 for the Red Cross.

Another girl who played it in later life was Mary Clifton (nee Benson) and it continued for a number of years. Another source of it is in Lancashire folk lore (How Bury Pace-Eggers Started at emrs.chm.bris.ac.uk - link no longer valid) which included clog dances, and songs, and it was started the Saturday before Easter and considered bad luck to continue after noon on Good Friday.

A NOTE ON PACE-EGGING AT DUFTON

This is from the Penrith Observer, December 14th 1954

Round and about Column by 'Beacon'

A recent reference to Mr John Lightburn's 90th birthday and the face that he used to go pace egging has brought an interesting letter from Major Harold Deighton, who sends me a copy of The Journal of the Lancashire Dialect Society for December 1952.

In this, Major Deighton has some fascinating facts about pace egging, an old North Westmorland custom which lingered on in the Dufton district almost to the end of the 19th Century.

Pace egg is, of course, really pasche (Easter) egg and a pace egger was one who went about singing and begging for Easter eggs in the week before Easter.

With the begging went a mumming called Jolly Boying, and says Major Deighton, the actors were disguised by blackened faces, coats worn inside out, false noses and whiskers.

The players in this mumming were two or three Jolly Boys, Lord Nelson, Jolly Jack Tar, Bonny Young Lad, Old Tosspot and Old Miser.

A typical scene for the play would be a farmhouse kitchen  with the family gathered round the fire for the night.

"Suddenly the door-sneck would be lifted, and the pace-eggers would enter, tree Jolly Boys with fiddle, concertina, and voices rendering the opening verse of the pace-egging song, which was completed as they march round the supper table.

Here come two or three Jolly Boys, all in one mind,

We've come a pace-egging - I hope you'll prove kind.

I hope you'll prove kind with your eggs and strong beer,

And we'll come no more near you until the next year.

The third line gives the key to the original purpose of the visit - the collection of eggs and beer for the better celebration of Eastertide.

In our account of Mr Lightburn's birthday we fell into an error in saying that he remembered the taste of the 'mulled' ale which was a feature of pace-egging.

For mulled ale read mould ale - a sustaining hot drink, which was also much used at funerals.

Major Deighton gives the recipe supplied by Mrs J Beadle of Murton, Appleby, and if any of my readers decide to try it I should like to hear from them afterwards.

Here it is:

Take one gallon of ale, and 12 to 14 eggs.

Beat the eggs up in a basin.

When the ale is at boiling point (not boiling) put the eggs in and stir well so that it does not curd, add ginger, nutmeg and sugar to taste.

I am told that this recipe is still used every Easter at Murton. In the old days it will have strengthened the mourners and bearers as they struggled along the corpse roads of North Westmorland.

Major Deighton writes apropos of this: "There is a little known corpse road at Mildam, Dufton and tradition has it that once a corpse had to be brought from a moorland farm nine miles away, the coffin being lashed to the back of a stout horse.

"On arrival at Dutton (Dufton? - Alan) the mourners decided to 'hev yan' at the inn, leaving the horse outside. The mould ale detained them a good while, and while waiting something happened to 'flay the nag' which galloped the nine miles home with the corpse."

GRASMERE

The Grasmere pace-egging play was incorporated into the script of one of the Grasmere Dialect plays.

KENDAL

A letter in the Kendal Mercury of 2 April 1853 told of a song "sung in Westmorland by the boys when they go from house to house, begging money wherewith to buy pasch eggs":

Here's two or three jolly boys all of one mind,

We've come a pace-egging and hope you'll prove kind,

We hope you'll prove kind with  your eggs and strong beer,

And we'll come no more near you until the next year.

The lads are dressed in paper caps and ornaments rudely and whimsically imitating the supposed costume of the character they personate. The modern verse has been altered to suit modern times. But according to the number of the beggars, other characters, such as Bishops, Negroes, Judges &c are sometimes introduced. In the remote part of Lancashire, the Easter mummers are more numerous and more expensively dressed up, their rude jargon and broad dialect rendering their songs excessively ludicrous. Here are a few more verses of the Westmorland version:-

The first that comes in is Lord Nelson you see,

With a bunch of blue ribbons tied down to his knee,

And a star on his breast which like silver does shine,

And he hopes you'll remember this pace egging time.

The next that comes in is old jolly jack tar,

He sailed with Lord Nelson all during last war,

He's a right from the sea all England to view,

And he's come to pace-egg with our brave merry crew.

The next that comes in is old Toss-mug you see,

He's a valiant old man in every degree,

He's a happy old fellow and wears a pig tail,

And all his delight is in drinking mulled ale.

Old Miser comes in with her dirty brown bags,

For fear of her money she wears her old rags,

So mind what you're doing and that all's right,

If you give nought, we'll take nought, farewell and good night.

This is a very civil termination; but in former days, when the beggars or mummers were men and not boys, it was customary to introduce more imposing person than any we have named, and the old gentleman in black came in. If the inhabitants of the house seemed towards the close of the song impenetrable and indisposed to show benevolence, then the last character was introduced, who, in lonely places, was quite calculated to make an impression on the fears, if not the benevolence of the parties.

Here come I little devil Doubt,

If you don't give me money

I'll sweep you all out;

Money I want and money I crave,

If you don't give me money

I'll sweep you all to the grave.

This last verse was sung in a different tone, more threatening than pleading.

S.

March 24 1853