Cumbria pace-egging
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| 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
