Tag Archives: Sheffield

The Dragon of Wantley

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dragon_of_Wantley

This tale about a knight killing a dragon in a suit of Sheffield steel is a thinly veiled attack on the Earl of Shrewsbury (soon to be the Duke of Norfolk), the areas largest landowner and eventually the most senior peer in the realm.

In 1573 a lawsuit was taken against the Lord of the Manor of Sheffield, George Talbot, the sixth Earl of Shrewsbury. The lord was accused of appropriating the proceeds of Sheffield ‘waste’ land, which hitherto had paid for civic works, church upkeep, and helping the poor. The crusading lawyer who took the case on behalf of the people of Sheffield was named George More who lived by Wharncliffe Crags.

Old stories tell, how Hercules
A dragon slew at Lerna*,
With seven heads and fourteen eyes,
To see and well discern-a :
But he had a club, this dragon to drub,
Or he had ne’re don’t, I warrant ye:
But More of More-Hall, with nothing at all,
He slew the dragon of Wantley.

This dragon had two furious wings,
Each one upon each shoulder ;
With a sting in his tail,
as long as a flail,
Which made him bolder and bolder.
He had long claws, and in his jaws
Four and forty teeth of iron;
With a hide as tough, as any buff,
Which did him round environ,

Have you not heard how the Trojan horse
Held seventy men in his belly ?
This dragon was not quite so big,
But very near, I’ll tell ye.
Devoured he, poor children three,
That could not with him grapple;
And at one sup, he eat them up,
As one would eat an apple.

All sorts of cattle this dragon did eat,
Some say he did eat up trees,
And that the forests sure he would
Devour up by degrees :
For houses and churches,
were to him geese and turkies;
He ate all, and left none behind,
But some stones, dear Jack,
that he could not crack,
Which on the hills you surely will find,

In Yorkshire, near fair Rotherham.
The place I know it well;
Some two or three miles, or thereabouts,
I vow I cannot tell;
But there is a hedge, just on the hill edge,
And Matthew’s house hard by it;
O there and then, was this dragon’s den,
You could not choose but spy it

Some say, this dragon was a witch
Some say, he was a devil,
For from his nose a smoke arose,
And with it burning snivel ;
Which he cast off, when he did cough,
In a well that he did stand by ;
Which made it look, just like a brook
Running with burning brandy,

Hard by a furious knight there dwelt,
Of whom all towns did ring ;
For he could wrestle, play at quarter-staff, kick, cuff and huff,
Call son of a whore, do any kind of thing:
By the tail and the main, with his hands twain
He swung a horse till he was dead ;
And that which is stranger, he for very anger
Eat him all up but his head

These children, as I told , being eat;
Men, women, girls and boys,
Sighing and fobbing, came to his lodging,
And made a hideous noise:
O save us all, More of More-Hall,
Thou peerless knight of these woods ;
Do but slay this dragon, who won’t leave us a rag on,
We’ll give thee all our goods.

Tut, tut, quoth he, no goods I want
But I want, I want in truth,
A fair maid of sixteen, that’s brisk, and keen,
And smiles about the mouth;
Hair black as sloe, skin white as snow,
With blushes her cheeks adorning
To anoynt me o’er night, ere I go to fight,
And to dress me in the morning

This being done he did engage
To hew the dragon down ;
But first he went, new armour to
Bespeak^ at Sheffield town ;
With spikes all about, not within but without,
Of steel so sharp and strong ;
Both behind and before, arms, legs, and allo’er
Some five or fix inches long,

Had you but seen him in this dress,
How fierce he look’d and how big,
You would have thought him for to be some Egyptian porcupig :
He frighted all, cats, dogs, and all,
Each cow, each horse, and each hog :
For fear they did flee, for they took him to be
Some strange outlandish hedge-hog.

To see this fight, all people then
Got up on trees and houses,
On churches some, and chimneys too ;
But these put on their trouses,
Not to spoil their hose. As soon as he rose,
To make him strong and mighty,
He drank by the tale, fix pots of ale,
And a quart of aqua-vite.

It is not strength that always wins,
For wit doth strength excel ;
Which made our cunning champion
Creep down into a well ;
Where he did think, this dragon would drink,
And so he did in truth ;
And as he stoop’d low, he rofe up and cry’d, boh!
And hit him in the mouth.

Oh, quoth the dragon, pox take thee, come out,
Thou difturb’st me in my drink:
And then he turn’d, and …. at him;
Good lack how he did stink!
Beshrew thy foul, thy body’s foul,
Thy dung smells not like balsam ;
Thou son of a whore, thou stink’st so sore,
Sure thy diet is unwholsome..

Our politick knight, on the other side,
Crept out upon the brink,
And gave the dragon such a douse,
He knew not what to think:
By cock, quoth he, say you so: do you see?
And then at him he let fly
With hand and with foot, and so they went to’t,
And the word it was, hey boys, hey!

Your words, quoth the dragon, I don’t understand :
Then to it they fell at all,
Like two wild boars so fierce, if I may
Compare great things with small.
Two days and a night, with this dragon did fight
Our champion on the ground ;
Tho’ their strength it was great,
their skill it was neat, They never had one wound.

At length the hard earth began to quake,
The dragon gave him a knock,
Which made him to reel, and straitway he thought,
To lift him as high as a rock,
And thence let him fall.
But More of More-Hall,
Like a valiant son of Mars,
As he came like a lout, so he turn’d him about,
And hit him a kick on the arse

Oh; quoth the dragon, with a deep sigh,
And turn’d fix times together,
Sobbing and tearing, curfing and swearing
Out of his throat of leather
More of More-Hall! O thou rascal!
Would I had seen thee never ;
With the thing at thy foot, thou haft prick’d my gut
And I’m quite undone for ever.

Murder, murder, the dragon cry’d,
Alack, alack, for grief ;
Had you but missed that place, you could
Have cone me no mischief.
Then his head he shaked, trembled and quaked,
And down he laid and cry’d
First on one knee, then on back tumbled he,
So groan’d, kickt, fart’d, and died.

  • Lerna was an entrance to the Underworld in Greek mythology guarded by a Hydra, a serpentine lake monster

^ bespeak is to order in advance

(1769) The Death of Bill Brown

A.L. Lloyd includes this song about poaching as resistance to enclosure in his book Folk Song in England where he noted that it was “obtained by Frank Kidson from a singer in Goole, Yorkshire” and comments:

There are two distinct broadsheet songs which tell of the unhappy death of Bill Brown, a poacher shot by the gamekeeper at the village of Brightside, near Sheffield, in 1769. That a version of one of them might still be collected from tradition as late as the beginning of this century should be attributed to the extraordinary vitality which many of the broadside ballads had in the minds and hearts of the commons of England. Certainly the character of Bill Brown and the desire to avenge his death was sufficient to raise the necessary sympathetic bond between street singers and their audiences.

A.L. Lloyd further commented in the sleeve notes of Roy Harris’s 1972 record The Bitter and the Sweet:

When the practice of enclosing common-land for the benefit of lofty landlords was stepped up in the 18th century, it caused hardship and fierce resentment over the broad acres. For some reason, resistance to this injustice was specially fierce in the triangle roughly bounded by Sheffield, Lincoln and Nottingham, and within this area for more than half a century there was virtual guerrilla was between poacher and keeper. The sullen bloodshot ballad of Bill Brown, who was shot dead at Brightside, near Sheffield, in 1769, is characteristic of the poacher broadsides that moved the disaffected villagers of the time (and for long after). The tune was noted in Lincolnshire by Frank Kidson’s devoted informant, Mr Lolley, about eighty years ago.

You gentlemen, both great and small,
Gamekeepers, poachers, sportsmen all,
Come listen to me simple clown,
I’ll sing you the death of poor Bill Brown,
I’ll sing you the death of poor Bill Brown.

One stormy night, as you shall hear,
‘Twas in the season of the year.
We went to the woods to catch a buck,
But in that night we had bad luck,
Bill Brown was shot and his dog was stuck.

Well, we got to the woods, our sport begun,
I saw the gamekeeper present his gun,
I called on Bill to climb the gate,
To get away, but it was too late,
For there he met his untimely fate.

Well, we got to the woods, our sport begun,
I saw the gamekeeper present his gun,
I called on Bill to climb the gate,
To get away, but it was too late,
For there he met his untimely fate.

I dressed myself next night in time,
I got to the wood as the clock struck nine;
The reason was, and I’ll tell you why,
To find that gamekeeper I did go try,
Who shot my friend, and he shall die.

I ranged the woods all over, and then
I looked at my watch and it was just ten.
I heard a footstep on the green,
I hid myself for fear of being seen,
For I plainly saw it was Tom Green.

I took my gun all in my hand,
Resolved to fire if Tom should stand;
Tom heard a noise and turned him round.
I fired and brought him to the ground,
My hand gave him his deep death wound.

Now revenge, you see, my hopes has crowned.
I’ve shot the mam that shot Bill Brown.
Poor Bill no more these eyes will see;
Farewell, dear friend, farewell to ye,
I’ve crowned your hopes and your memory.

A History of Allotments in Sheffield by Margaret Boulton

This is a really great deep dive into local Sheffield history whilst at the same time providing lots of context which I imagine would make it still of interest to those further afield.

I drank it down and revelled in the geekery, for example, did you know that Mount Pleasant is the name for the part of each town or city where all the night soil (aka human poo) was taken every morning so farmers could transport it to their land for fertiliser?

Three Acres And A Cow – Regather – Sheffield , South Yorkshire – 22/03/18

SOLD OUT – there won’t be any tickets on the door for tonight’s show sorry
next Sheffield outing will be http://www.museums-sheffield.org.uk/whats-on/events/2018/5/live-late-dissent

facebook event page – https://www.facebook.com/events/401774653577025/

Heading north… Christ Church – Sheffield – 05/12/15

We are super excited to be heading North in December for a trio of shows in Nottingham, Leeds and Sheffield. For the Sheffield show we will be joined by Sally Goldsmith, Tim Ralphs, Naomi Wilkins and Kate Thomas’s singers.

Tickets can be purchased online via – http://www.etickets.to/buy/?e=13213

3A&aC Sheffield low res web flyer