> Folk Music > Songs > A Cornish Smuggler’s Song / King of Prussia / Prussia Cove

A Cornish Smuggler’s Song / King of Prussia / Prussia Cove

[ Roud - ; Mudcat 48684 ; Ralph Dunstan, Mr. Tregarthen]

A Cornish Smuggler’s Song is a song in Ralph Dunstan’s 1929 Cornish Song Book. Dunstan noted:

On 25 February 1929, I spent the afternoon with Mr. Tregarthen, at his home in Newquay; and when he had read through the whole of Part I of this work, he said: “But there isn’t a Smuggler’s Song, we must have one!” Having searched in vain for suitable words, I wrote the following, and Mr. Tregarthen added the final touches. The appropriate and fine tune of The Lincolnshire Poacher suggested the lilt of the words.

Brenda Wootton and Robert Bartlett sang King of Prussia in 1975 on their Sentinel album Starry-Gazey Pie. They noted:

Cornwall’s long and interesting coastline makes it a land suitable for the practice of smuggling. John and Harry Carter lived in Mount’s Bay in the latter part of the 18^th century, gaining notoriety through their smuggling deeds and, as the storybooks have it, they were never caught. John Carter became known as the King of Prussia—not only because he was king of his trade, but also because he always modelled himself on Frederick of Prussia, a man who never lost. In time, he gave his name to the cove where he and his family lived and to this day. there are still Carters living in the area around Prussia Cove. (The tune has been unashamedly poached from Lincolnshire.)

Dave Lowry sang Prussia Cove in 2023 on his WildGoose CD Songs of a Devon Man. Bill Crawford noted:

The song refers to the Carter family, two brothers well known for their smuggling activities, who lived in Prussia Cove, in Mount’s Bay, Cornwall. Dave learnt it from the singing of Brenda Wooton. This recording [was made] by Phil Beer.

Lyrics

A Cornish Smuggler’s Song in Ralph Dunstan’s Cornish Song Book.

Of Prussia Cove where I was born, a song I’ll here begin;
My father is a smuggler bold, and well do he “knaw tin”,
To “land a cargo of the goods” he never thought a sin,
And ’tis my delight on a moonless night to run the cargo in.

John Carter is my father’s name, the King of all his kin,
He is “an honest man”, and keeps his word thro’ thick and thin.
For mounted men and cutlass’d guard he doesn’t care a pin,
And ’tis my delight on a moonless night to run the cargo in.

Our lugger is the Rose and Crown, us bought her at Penryn;
A double-bottom, too, has she, as snug as any bin.
To see the tubs she brings from France would make a dunkey grin,
And ’tis my delight on a moonless night to run the cargo in.

No mark of keg or sinking-stone is ever seen within;
Across the channel, rough or smooth, so sweetly does she spin.
What joy my boys to “land the goods”, nor lose a kilderkin!
And ’tis my delight on a moonless night to run the cargo in.

We’ve friends galore along the shore: there’s dear old Squire Prynn,
And every farmer near and far, and Mathey at the inn;
And passun Vigurs doant despise a case of Hollands gin!
And ’tis my delight on a moonless night to run the cargo in.

Poor speed to all Preventive spies from Tresco Sands to Lyn;
They’d saw a poor man’s boat in dree and joy to do him in!
Why should they take the bread away we work so hard to win?
And ’tis my delight on a moonless night to run the cargo in.

Dave Lowry sings Prussia Cove

Of Prussia Cove where I was born a song I’ll here begin.
Father is a smuggler bold and well do he know tin,
To land a cargo of the goods he never thought a sin,
For ’tis my delight on a moonless night to run the cargo in.

John Carter is my father’s name, the king of all his kin,
He is an honest man and keeps his word through thick and thin.
For mounted men or cutlass’d guard he doesn’t give a pin,
For ’tis my delight on a moonless night to run the cargo in.

Our lugger is the Rose and Crown; us bought her at Penryn,
A double-bottom, too, has she, as snug as any bin.
To see the tubs her brings from France it’d make a donkey grin,
For ’tis my delight on a moonless night to run the cargo in.

No mark of keg or sinking-stone is ever seen within;
Across the channel, rough or smooth, so sweetly does she spin.
What joy my boys to land the goods, nor lose a kilderkin,
For ’tis my delight on a moonless night to run the cargo in.

We’ve friends galore along the shore: there’s dear old Squire Prynn,
And every farmer near and far, and Mathey at the inn.
And Parson Vickers don’t despise a case of Hollands gin!
For ’tis my delight on a moonless night to run the cargo in.

False speed to all Preventive spies from Tresco Sands to Lyn,
They’d saw a poor man’s boat in dree and joy to do him in!
Why should they take the bread away us work so hard to win?
For ’tis my delight on a moonless night to run the cargo in.