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Thorneymoor Woods / Thornaby Woods

[ Roud 222 ; Master title: Thorney Moor Woods ; Ballad Index E053 ; VWML HAM/3/12/22 ; Bodleian Roud 222 ; GlosTrad Roud 222 ; Wiltshire 488 ; trad.]

Lucy E. Broadwood, J.A. Fuller Maitland: English County Songs Paul and Liz Davenport: Down Yorkshire Lanes Ewan MacColl, Peggy Seeger: Travellers’ Songs From England and Scotland Roy Palmer: Everyman’s Book of English Country Songs Room for Company Songs of the Midlands Frank Purslow: Marrow Bones Dteve Roud, Julia Bishop: The New Penguin Book of English Folk Songs

Chris Willett sang Thorny Park at Paddock Wood, Kent, on 4 September 1963 to Peter Kennedy. This recording was included in 2012 on the Topic anthology of songs by Southern English gypsy traditional singers, I’m a Romany Rai (The Voice of the People Volume 22). Another recording made by Ken Stubbs in ca. 1960 was included in 2013 on the two Willett Family anthologies, A-Swinging Down the Lane and Adieu to Old England.

Louis Killen sang the ballad Thorneymoor Woods in 1965 on his Topic LP Ballads and Broadsides. Angela Carter commented in the album’s sleeve notes:

Poachers held a place of high esteem in the imagination of country people. The late George Maynard of Sussex had a large number of songs detailing the heroic exploits of poachers in his repertoire—not, perhaps, surprisingly, since he had been something of an expert in the art himself, in his youth. Like true heroes, most poachers bravely face up to misfortune in these songs—whether it is the murderous spite of gamekeepers, or a trip to the country gaol. This epic story of a night’s poaching was learnt, not from Maynard, but from an even finer singer, Harry Cox of Catfield, Norfolk, and has a certain quality of tough independence which is part of Cox’s immensely virile singing. In spite of its Nottinghamshire locale, the song has been reported from several parts of the country. The cheerful defiance of the unrepentant hero probably accounts for its popularity.

Danny Brazil sang Limpy Jack to Peter Shepheard at Over Bridge, Gloucester, on 12 May 1966. This recording was included in the Brazil Family’s Musical Traditions anthology Down By the Old Riverside. Rod Stradling commented in the accompanying booklet:

The song is more commonly known as Thornymoor Woods in various collections. Thorney Wood Chase, once a part of Sherwood Forest, was enclosed sometime around 1790. Twenty years later John Pitts issued our present song on a broadside titled The Lads of Thorney Moor Wood, which was reprinted by several later printers. There are 69 instances in Roud, including 15 sound recordings—and as might be expected for a poaching song, all are from England.

Anne Briggs recorded Thorneymoor Woods in 1971 for her first solo album Anne Briggs; this was reissued on her Fellside and Topic compilation CDs, Classic Anne Briggs and A Collection. A.L. Lloyd commented in the original album’s sleeve notes:

From the neighbourhood of Newark in Anne’s native Nottinghamshire, this one. The Thornehagh Moor-Fields, a wild 800 acres of woodland, was enclosed and largely cleared at the end of the eighteenth century. Outraged locals, hindered from their age-old practise of taking a rabbit for the pot or a deer for the market, waged guerrilla warfare with the keepers for decades. The ballad is from those desperate days. Anne had the song from Cloff Godbold.

Roy Bailey sang this as Thornaby Woods in the same year – 1971 – on his eponymous first album, Roy Bailey.

George Dunn sang The Nottingham Poacher in December 1971 to Bill Leader. This recording was released in 1973 on his eponymous Leader album, George Dunn. Another recording made by Roy Palmer on 14 July 1971 was included in 2002 on Dunn’s Musical Tradition anthology Chainmaker. Roy Palmer and Rod Stradling commented:

This is not the only example of the gentry, and even the judiciary, being shown as sympathetic to poachers in songs from the oral tradition. Thorney Wood Chase, near Nottingham, part of the ancient Sherwood Forest, was enclosed in 1792—after which deer disappeared. On the other hand, Thornehagh (pronounced ‘Thorney’) Moor Woods, near Newark, was stocked with deer and guarded by keepers after its enclosure in 1797, so this seems a more likely candidate as the historical background for the song. Both Catnach and Pitts of London printed this song as a broadside, and there were several other editions, mainly in the Midlands.

With the exception of a solitary example from Ohio, traditional versions seem to have been confined to central and southern England, with some 60 examples in Roud, including nine sound recordings—though only those by Jasper Smith and Walter Pardon can be heard on CD.

Martin Carthy recorded Thorneymoor Woods on 6 August 1973 for a BBC Radio 1 John Peel Session that was broadcast on August 14. I don’t know of any published version of Martin Carthy of this song, though.

Tony Rose recorded Thornaby Woods in 1976 for the charity album The Second Folk Review Record. The sleeve notes comment:

A poaching song set in Nottinghamshire but collected in Worcestershire by H.E.D. Hammond. This version is taken from that printed in Marrow Bones.

Jasper Smith sang Thorneymoor Park on 26 April 1975 at Epsom, Surrey, to Mike Yates. This recording was included in 1975 on the Topic anthology of gypsies, travellers and country singers, Songs of the Open Road, in 1998 on the Topic anthology To Catch a Fine Buck Was My Delight’ (The Voice of the People Volume 18), and in 2003 on the Musical Traditions anthology of Mike Yates recordings of gypsy song and music from South-East England, Here’s Luck to a Man …. Mike Yates noted:

Thorney Wood Chase, once a part of Sherwood Forest, was enclosed sometime around 1790. Twenty years later John Pitts issued our present song on a broadside (under the title The Lads of Thorney Moor Wood), which was reprinted by several later printers.

Sophie Legg sang Thorneymoor Woods in 1978 to Pete Coe. This recording was included in 2003 on Veteran’s Orchard Family anthology, Catch Me If You Can. Mike Yates commented in the album’s booklet:

According to the folklorist A.L. Lloyd, “The mother of folklore is poverty”, and according to James Hawker, a noted 19^th century poacher, “Poverty made me poach”. Writing in his book The Making of the English Working Class (1963), E.P. Thompson had this to say about Britain’s notorious game laws which, indirectly, gave rise to a number of poaching songs: “’Game Laws, with their paraphernalia of gamekeepers, spring-guns, mantraps and (after 1816) sentences of transportation: all served, directly or indirectly, to tighten the screw upon the labourer.” Government in late 18^th century England was only too aware that events in France could spill over into England and so restrictions, including the enclosure of once common land, were placed onto the labouring class in an attempt to prevent the spread of Revolution. In the words of the poet Oliver Goldsmith:

Each wanton judge new penal statutes draw,
Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law.

In the 1790’s Thornehaugh-Moor Woods, also known as Thorney Moor Fields or Thorney Wood Chase, in the Hundred of Newark, Nottinghamshire and once part of Sherwood Forest, was enclosed. Twenty-odd years later the London broadside printer John Pitts issued our present song on a broadside, titled The Lads of Thorney Moor Woods, which still remains popular With Gypsy singers today. Like many other poaching songs, Thorneymoor Woods has seldom travelled outside England, although there is a set in Mary O. Eddy’s Ballads and Songs From Ohio (1939).

Walter Pardon sang Thornaby Woods in a recording made by Mike Yates on his 1983 LP of song and music from Knapton in Norfolk, Bright Golden Store. and on his Musical Traditions anthology Put a Bit of Powder on It, Father. Rod Stradling and Mike Yates commented in the accompanying booklet:

Walter’s tune for this poaching song is rather unusual, in that it is just the second half of a double-length tune which is usually used for this song—and one is always expecting it to drop down to the root chord for the start of each verse … and it doesn’t!

Although the song appears in 57 entries in Roud, it has only been recorded five times in the tradition—unsurprisingly, two of these are from Travellers. It’s also unusual that the song is never found in Ireland, Scotland or Wales—and the same is true of The Oakham Poachers, Hares on the Old Plantation, etc. Somewhat surprised by this, I tried a data search on all those songs with the word ‘Poacher’ in the title and found 130 instances in Roud’s database—only three of which could be identified as not being English! Are we the only thieves in these islands—or just the only ones who enjoy singing about it? It could, of course, be because Ireland and Scotland weren’t hammered by Parliamentary enclosure of common lands to anything like the extent that England was, and may also be do with the way in which the English, alone in Europe if not the world, have accorded to landowners rights of ownership over the wild animals which happen to be on their domains at any particular time.

Ian Giles sang Thornaby Woods in 1997 on his WildGoose CD The Amber Triangle. He noted:

The Gamekeeper outwitted as usual, a non too reliable landlady, an astonishingly lenient Assizes, and a lame dog. From the singing of Roy Bailey.

Danny Spooner sang Thornaby Woods on his 2008 CD Brave Bold Boys. He noted:

Taken from the Hammond and Gardiner collection Marrow Bones, selected and edited by Frank Purslow, a 1965 publication of the English Folk and Dance Society, the song shows one of the many ways the poor managed to supplement their earnings in times of rural change and poverty. It should be remembered that poachers were often admired by both sides of the social divide for their skill, cheek and ability to supply good cheap game. While poaching was a crime for which one could be transported to Van Diemen’s Land, our hero has no intention of mending his ways.

Steeleye Span recorded Thorneymoor Woods in 2009 for their album Cogs, Wheels and Lovers.

James Yorkston sang Thorneymoor Woods in 2009 on his CD and DVD Folk Songs.

The Owl Service sang In Thorneymoor Woods Parts 1&2 on their 2011 album The Pattern Beneath the Plough.

George Sansome and Matt Quinn sang Thornaby Woods in 2023 on their duo album Sheffield Park. George Sansome noted:

A classic tale of a successful night’s poaching—despite a few hiccups along the way. The first verse was sung by Mrs Webb, of King’s Norton, to Henry Hammond in January 1906 [VWML HAM/3/12/22] . The rest comes from a broadside in the Bodleian Library.

Lyrics

Danny Brazil sings Limpy Jack

Three keepers’ houses stood in a square,
Right fol laural fol diddle addidy,
Three keepers’ houses stood in a square,
Fal diddle laural lay,
Three keepers’ houses stood in a square;
They were put there to look after the deer,
And each one of them was a mile compared,
Right fol diddle, laural lal lay.

Now me and my dogs went out one night,
Right fol laural fol diddle addidy,
Me and my dogs went out one night,
Fol diddle laural lay;
Me and my dogs went out one night,
To catch a fat buck away we went,
To catch a fat buck was our intent,
Right fol diddle laural lal Iay.

Now we hunted the woods all round and round
Right fol laural fol diddle addidy,
We hunted the woods all round and round,
Fol diddle laural lay;
The best good dog all out of ten,
He came to me both bloody and lame,
And sorry was I to see the same,
Right fol diddle laural lal lay.

I’ll take my spikestaff in my hand,
Right fol laural fol diddle addidy,
I’ll take my spikestaff in my hand,
Fol diddle laural lay.
I’ll take my spikestaff in my hand,
I’ll range the wood ’til I find that man,
I’ll wallop his bones all if I can,
Right fol diddle laural lal lay.

Now we hunted the woods all round and round,
Right fol loural fol diddle addidy,
We hunted the wood all round and round,
Fol diddle laural lay;
We hunted the woods all round and round,
We found a fat buck laid dead on the ground,
That was my little dog fetched him down,
Right fol diddle laural lal lay.

Now Limpy Jack had a buck up his back,
He was like a pedlar with a pack up his back,
He was like a pedlar with a pack up his back,
Right fol diddle laural lal lay.

Now we ordered a butcher to skin the game,
Right fol laural fol diddle addidy,
Likewise another to do the same,
Fol diddle laural lay;
The first good joint we offered for sale,
Was to an old woman that drew bad ale,
She had us all took and put in jail,
Right fol diddle laural lal lay.

Now we were put in prison strong,
Until the assizes did come on,
Bad cess to the hour of liberty,
My brave and British boys.

Anne Briggs sings Thorneymoor Woods

In Thorneymoor Woods in Nottinghamshire,
Thorneymoor Woods in Nottinghamshire,
Three game-keepers’ houses stood three-square,
About a mile from each other they were
Orders they were to look out for the deer.
Fol de rol, tora lie day

Now me and me dogs went out one night
The moon and the stars were shining bright
O’er hedges and ditches, fields and stiles
With my three dogs trotting close by me heels,
To catch a fat buck down in Thorneymoor fields.
Fol de rol, tora lie day

That very first night we had bad luck,
One of me very best dogs got shot
He come to me all bloody and lame
Right sorry I was for to see the same
And not being able to follow the game.
Fol de rol, tora lie day

I searched his wounds and found them slight
’Twas done by a game-keeper out of spite
Well I’ll take a stick right tight in me hand
I’ll search the woods till I find that man
I’ll thrash his old hide right well if I can
Fol de rol, tora lie day

Now I come home and I went to bed
Limping Jack went out in me stead
O’er hedges and ditches, fields and stiles
He found a buck lying on the ground
My little dog has gave him the death-wound.
Fol de rol, tora lie day

And Limping Jack he cut the buck’s throat
Tied his legs with good stout rope
And I had a laugh to see Limping Jack
Hopping along lane with that buck on his back
Carried it just like a pedlar’s pack
Fol de rol, tora lie day

Now we got us a butcher to skin the game
Likewise another to sell the same
And the very first joint as we offered for sale
Was to an old girl she sold bad ale
She had us young lads up in Nottingham gaol
Fol de rol, tora lie day

And Nottingham assizes are due and nigh
Us three young lads we go to be tried
But the magistrate laughed her all to scorn
He says the old bugger should be forsworn
Into little pieces torn
Fol de rol, tora lie day

And Nottingham assizes are gone and past
Us three young lads go free at last
The bucks and the does will never roam free
A poacher’s life is the life for me
A poacher I will always be
Fol de rol, tora lie day

George Dunn sings The Nottingham Poacher

In Thorneymoor woods in Nottinghamshire,
    Fal the dal airol aye to ladaday,
Three keepers’ houses stood at three square,
    Fal the dal airol ay.
Three keepers’ houses stood at three square,
About a mile from each of them were,
With orders it was to look after the deer,
    Ri fal the dal airol aye day.

So me and my mates went out at night,
With my two dogs close at my heels.
So me and my mates went out at night,
With my two dogs close at my heels
To catch a fat buck in Nottingham fields.

The very first night we had bad luck:
Jack, my very best dog got struck.
He came to me both bloody and lame,
And sorry was I for see him the same;
He was not able to follow the game.

I searched his wounds and I found them slight;
I know some keeper’s done this for spite.
For I’ll take my pikestaff in my hand,
I’ll scour the woods ’til I find the man,
Then I’ll tan his hide right well if I can.

The very first thing that we found
Was a big fat buck nearly dead on the ground
The very first thing that we found
Was a big fat buck nearly dead on the ground.
I know my dogs gid him his death wound.

I pulled out me knife and I cut the buck’s throat,
I pulled out me knife and I cut the buck’s throat,
And you’d have laughed to have seen Limping Jack
Go hopping along with the buck on his back
He carried him like a Yorkshireman’s pack.

We found a butcher to skin the game,
Likewise another to sell the same.
The very first joint we offered for sale
Was to an old woman that brewed bad ale,
That causèd we poor lads in jail.

Assizes are opened and we’re all here,
Assizes all over and we’re all clear.
The judges they felt a sorrowful scorn
That such an old woman should be foresworn,
And all to pieces she ought to be torn.

Jasper Smith sings Thorneymoor Park

Now it’s Thorneymoor Park in Buckinghamshire,
The keeper’s houses lays in squares.
Their orders were to look after the deers.
Right fol the rol diddle ol day.

So me and my dog went out one night,
A right fol lor al right fol arity.
Oh, me and my dog went out one night,
To catch a fine buck was my delight.
To catch a fine buck in Thorneymoor Park,
Right fol the rol diddle ol day.

Up jumped an old deer lay flat to the ground,
And my little bitch she pulled him down.
I picked him up and cracked his crown.
Right fol the rol diddle ol day.

Then my dog come back so sorry and lame,
And sorry was I for to see the same.
As he was a-not able to follow the game.
Right fol the dol diddle ol day.

The Sussex assizes was drawing near,
He would not allow the old woman to swear.
She had four more pints in Buckinghamshire.
Right fol the dol diddle ol day.

I’ll take a short staff in my hand,
I’ll range the woods ’til I find the man.
I’ll tan his old hide, I would if I can.
Right fol the dol diddle ol day.

Sophie Legg sings Thorneymoor Woods

In Thorneymoor Woods near Buckinghamshire,
There was three keepers, they lived near;
They don’t live a mile from each others door,
Right fol de dol diddle dol day.

Me and my dogs went out one night,
Right fol ladity, right fol lay,
Me and my dogs went out one night
Right fol de dol diddle dol day.

O’er hedges, ditches, gates and stiles,
With my three dogs close after my heels;
We’ll catch a fat buck in Thorneymoor Fields,
Right fol de dol diddle dol day.

The very first night we had bad luck,
My very best dog his heart got struck,
My very best dog, he got struck,
Right fol de dol diddle dol day.

He came to me both bloody and lame,
I said, “You’re not fit to follow the game.”
I said, “You’re not fit to follow the game.”
Right fol de dol diddle dol day.

I searched his wounds, I found they were slight,
That some damn keeper that’s done it for spite;
That some damn keeper has done it for spite,
Right fol de dol diddle dol day.

I’ll take my pike staff in my hand,
And I’ll range those woods till I find that man;
And I’ll hammer his head well if I can,
Right fol de dol diddle dol day.

I searched those woods all that night,
I searched those woods until the daylight;
I searched those woods until the daylight,
Right fol de dol diddle dol day.

The very first thing that ever I found,
It was a large fat buck lay dead on the ground;
And I said, “My dog gave you your death wound,”
Right fol de dol diddle dol day.

You would have laughed to see poor Limping Jack,
To see how he stood with that buck on his back;
He was like a Yorkshire man with a pack,
Right fol de dol diddle dol day.

Now the very first joint I offered for sale,
It was to an old cook that brewed bad ale;
And it was the old bugger gave me six months in jail,
Right fol de dol diddle dol day.

And now my trial is drawing near,
And to the Justices’ meeting I have to appear;
And when my trial has gone and passed,
That damned old judge can kiss my arse.

Walter Pardon sings Thornaby Woods

In Thornaby Woods in Nottinghamshire,
    Whack-folural-I, whack-fol-laddle-dee
In Thornaby Woods in Nottinghamshire,
    Whack-folural-I-day
Three keepers’ houses stood three-square.
About a mile from each other they were,
Their orders were to look after the deer,
    Right-fol-the-rol-riddle-al-day

Me and my dogs went out one night,
The moon and stars were shining bright,
Over hedges and over stiles
With my three dogs all at my heels
To catch a fat buck in the Thornaby fields …

The very first night I had bad luck,
One of my very best dogs got shot.
He came to me all bloody and lame
And sorry I was to see the same,
For he wouldn’t be able to follow his game …

I looked at his wounds, and I found them slight,
’Twas done by a keeper all out of spite.
I’ll take my pike-staff in my hand
And I’ll search the woods ’til I find that man.
I’ll tan his old hide right well if I can …

We hired a butcher to kill the game,
Likewise another to skin the same.
The very first joint we offered for sale
Was to an old woman who sold bad ale.
She had us all up into Nottingham gaol …

Now Nottingham ’sizes are drawing nigh,
An’ us three chaps have got to be tried.
The Gentlemen laughed her all to scorn
That such an old woman should be forsworn
Into little pieces she ought to be torn …

Now Nottingham assizes are over and past
An’ us three chaps are clear at last.
Neither bucks nor does will ever go free
For a poachers’ life is the life for me,
A poacher I will always be …

A poacher I am and a poacher I’ll be,
A poachers’ life is the life for me,
A poacher I will always be …