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The Wensleydale Lad / The Fine Old Yorkshire Gentleman

Bill Price sang The Fine Old Yorkshire Gentleman in 1972 as the title track of his Folk-Heritage album The Fine Old Yorkshire Gentleman. His sleeve notes commented:

The Fine Old Yorkshire Gentleman (or The Wensleydale Lad) turns up in many forms in different parts of the county. This version was collected in Horton-in-Ribblesdale in 1960, verse 2 and 5 being added from Holroyd's Yorkshire Ballads (1892). It tells the story of a country lad's first visit to town, and how his native wit triumphs over the city dwellers sophistication.

Mike Waterson sang The Wensleydale Lad accompanied on chorus by his sisters Lal and Norma, his niece Maria and Jim Eldon in 1977 on his LP Mike Waterson. It was also added to the Watersons' Green Fields CD reissue. A.L. Lloyd commented in the original album's sleeve notes:

This is one of the three hundred-odd Yorkshire songs collected mostly in the 1850s and 1860s by Abraham Holroyd, an ex-weaver, ex-soldier turned printer in a Bradford back street. It appears in Holroyd's Collection of Yorkshire Ballads, published posthumously in 1892. It is sometimes called Leeds Church. Mike got this piece from Paul Graney, who has supplied good northern songs to a lot of singers.

Lyrics

Mike Waterson sings The Wensleydale Lad	Notes by Greer Gilman
Wey, what wi' me father and mother at home I never had nae fun Well, they kept me goin from morn till night So I thowt from them I'd run	nae = no thowt = thought
Why, in Leeds I've heard it were comin on So I thowt I'd have a spree So I put me Sunday clothes on I went whistlin merrily	A lovely place, Wensleydale, but very far from the bright lights.
Chorus (after every other verse): Wi' me bumpsy bumpsy ay Bumpsy bumpsy Annie Wi' me bumpsy bumpsy ay And me bumpsy bumpsy Annie
Well, first thing I seen was a factory And I never seen one before There was shuttles a-weavin, shuttles o' tape, They sell by many's the score	Factories are still a wonder, not yet seen as a threat. At least not to a farm lad; skilled weavers felt otherwise. The great frame-breaking in the North and Midlands, the Luddite rebellion, was 1811-1816. “The cropper lads in the county o' York / Have broken shears at Foster's Mill” (there's a cracking version of this on Swan Arcade's Nothing Blue album). Another more poignant song about these times is The Handweaver and the Factory Maid (on Brass Monkey's See How it Runs)
Why, and Owd Ned, he turned every wheel And to every wheel a strap Well, I says to maister man, By gum Owd Ned's a right strong chap!	Owd Ned = the weaving engine maister man = the boss, foreman
Wey, next I went to Leeds owd church Never been in one in me days I was most ashamed o' mesen Cause I didn't know the ways	owd = old mesen = myself
There was thirty forty people in tubs So down wi' them I sat When a saucy owd bugger come up and said, Hi kid, tek off thi hat	tek off thi hat = take off thy hat; By tubs, our lad means pews; the saucy owd bugger is the verger, come to deal with this gaping bumpkin. Hi, kid is a flip anachronism, not heard in England until the talkies. In the published text of the song, it's Noo, lad.
Then in there come this great Lord Mayor And over his shoulder's a club He got into a white sack-poke And got in the topmost tub	The great Lord Mayor is a bishop with his crook; the white sack-poke (flour sack) is his surplice. Tub is a contemptuous or jocular word for a pulpit, and not only in Yorkshire; a tub-thumper is a ranting preacher. Here, the topmost tub is one of those crow's nest pulpits, up a winding stair. (There's a fine one in Whitby.) A Jack-in-the-pulpit sort of pulpit.
And then in there come this t'other chap And I think his name were Ned He got into the bottom most tub And he mocked all t'other chap said	T'other chap is the deacon, and his mockery is his part in the liturgy, reading the responses.
Well, then there began this clatterin row And I couldn't mek out what about Then the chap in the topmost tub He began a-shoutin out	mek = make
He was tellin us rich folks went to heaven While poor folks went to hell Wey, I thowt to mesen, Ye silly owd bugger, You don't know road yersen	thowt to mesen = thought to myself don't know road yersen = don't know the way yourself These two verses aren't in the printed text--too bolshy? The lad may be green, but he's shrewd.
Wey, then they began to preach and pray And they prayed for George our King Then the chap in the topmost tub He says, Good folks, let's sing	George our King would be George III (ruled 1760-1820) or George IV (1820-1830), at the latest.
Well, some they sang very well The others did grunt and groan Every bugger sang just what they would So I gi'ed 'em “Darby and Joan”	An early experiment with sampling? Ambient hymn-singing? A lovely sly comment on the psalmody of the day.
When the preachin and prayin was over And the folks was gannin away Wey, I went to the chap in the topmost tub Says, Hi kid, what's to pay?	gannin = going
Why nowt, says he, me lad Thee must be either daft or fey So I swung my club stick over my shoulder Went whistlin out again	nowt = nothing

Acknowledgements

Transcribed from the singing of Mike Waterson by Greer Gilman. Thanks for this and her extensive notes.