Author: Andy Turner

Rev. Philip Parsons

Philip Parsons, 1729-1812

The Rev. Philip Parsons was born on 22nd August 1729, at Dedham in Essex. Raised by his grandmother, and tutored by a maternal uncle who was master of the grammar school at Lavenham in Suffolk, he took his BA at Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge. His first post following ordination was at the free school in Oakham, Rutlandshire, then in 1761 “he was presented to the school and curacy of Wye by Daniel Earl of Winchelsea and Nottingham”. 1

He remained as curate of St Gregory and St Martin from 1761 to 1812, becoming the longest serving parish priest at Wye.

In the sedulous discharge of the twofold duties of this preferment, he was engaged upwards of half a century. Of his urbanity, diligence, and classical talents as master of the school, there are many most respectable living witnesses, gentlemen of the first families in the county of Kent, who received their education under him. How well he exercised his sacred functions as their minister, the constant attendance of his parishioners at the house of God while he lived, and the voluntary tribute of their tears over his grave at the hour of his internment, will best testify. 2

In his history of Wye church, C. Paul Burnham refers to Parsons as “an immensely energetic and greatly loved polymath”. He published sermons, as well as works on a wide range of subjects: astronomy; church monuments and stained glass in East Kent; horse racing; Sunday schools; and Dialogues of the dead with the living, where he imagined, for example, conversations between William Shakespeare and David Garrick, Joseph Addison and Samuel Johnson, and Archbishop Langton and Edward Gibbon. As well as serving as holding the curacy of Wye, he was also the rector of Eastwell, and of Snave. Accounts suggest that he did not neglect his parishioners however (or at least, not those of Wye).

Phillip Parsons was far from the self indulgent country clergyman who is supposed to be typical of the Eighteenth Century. He was an omnicompetent ball of energy. He chaired the vestry meeting, and is found instructing the Overseers of the Poor to provide shoes for children, clothes and firewood for widows and apprenticeships for orphans, among many other concerns. With his arrival, vestry meetings become more frequent and the minutes more detailed. He included numerous interesting comments in the parish Registers, such as the supposed cause of death with each burial he recorded.3

Moreover, on 4th September 1785 he opened a Sunday School at Wye – one of the earliest Sunday Schools in Kent (the following year he promoted the idea of Sunday Schools over 87 pages, in Six letters to a friend, on the establishment of Sunday schools).

Amongst his many interests, he made a contribution to ballad scholarship, by sending copies of songs he had collected in Wye to the antiquarian Bishop Thomas Percy. Parsons acquired a first edition of Percy’s Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, published in 1765, and it occurred to him that the Bishop might be interested in the songs which he had noted.

E. David Gregory writes in his book Victorian Songhunters that Percy’s Reliques

encouraged a few individuals to try song collecting for themselves. In this regard Percy’s influence was seen first in southern England, although ultimately it was stronger in Scotland. One of the many thousand purchasers of the first edition of the Reliques was an English clergyman, the Reverend P. Parsons of Wye, near Ashford, in Kent. Parsons was a conscientious man of the cloth who was in the habit of visiting the poorer members of his flock in their own cottages. He apparently noticed that several of his female parishioners sang to themselves while working at their spinning wheels and that some of their songs were remarkably similar to material that Percy had included in the Reliques. His curiosity piqued, Parsons noted down the words of a handful of these ballads and he suggested to a clergyman friend in East Anglia that he do the same.

After a while, it occurred to Parsons that Percy might be interested in what he and his friend had collected. Between 1770 and 1775 he sent Percy manuscript copies of at least seven ballads. Parsons had noted six of these ballads from the singing of his own female parishioners: perhaps the finest was “Johnny Barbary” (a variant of “Willie o’ Winsbury”). Others were ‘The Two Sisters,” “Fair Margaret and Sweet William,” “Lady Ouncebell” (a version of “Lord Lovel”), “The Maid Freed from the Gallows,” and a fragment of “Lamkin,” titled “Long Longkin.” Parsons’ clergyman friend had taken down the seventh, a variant of “Lord Randal,” from a spinner in Suffolk. If Parsons hoped to see some of this material appear in a later edition of the Reliques he was disappointed; the manuscripts would gather dust among Percy’s papers until Francis Child retrieved them in the late nineteenth century. They are nonetheless of some significance: they appear to be the first folk ballads collected from oral tradition in England as part of the Romantic ballad revival that was stimulated by the Reliques. Moreover, since they remained in manuscript form we can be certain that Percy did not rewrite them.4

Parsons’ first batch of songs was sent to Percy with a letter dated 7th April 1770 – although the first sentence implies that he had already written, to establish if the Bishop would be interested in seeing the songs he had collected.

Sir,

I have been extremely ill for the Last 2 Months or I shou’d have wrote to you, and complied with Your Desire long before this.

As to the trouble of transcribing, it was nothing. I am sure you cou’d not have read my Scrabbled originals, which were taken down from the mouth of the Spinning wheel if I may be allowed the Expression.

[ … ]

The Songs which I have transcribed are such as pleased me; how nicer Judges may relish them I cannot say; of their ambiguity [surely antiquity?] I can have no doubt; I have some few more, but they wou’d have Swelled my Pacquet too much.

I have added an anagram and an acrostick which I think Curious; the Manual Elegance of the originals is Extraordinary.

I could, I dare say, pick up more original ancient Ballads amongst my Northern friends if either acceptable or agreeable to you. 5

The songs he sent on this occasion were

Percy wrote to Percy again on 22nd May 1770:

Reverend Sir,

Your last letter gave me infinite Pleasure, as I find what I sent was so much to your Satisfaction. You are a Perfect Epicure and express yourself so feelingly and earnestly, that I fear I shall find it difficult to feed you as you wou’d wish; however I will do all in my Power and for this Purpose have sent you three more old songs for a present supply of your appetite,- and have besides got the Promise of a Friend in Northhamptonshire (to whom I wrote for that Purpose) to procure me a further Number of them for a future treat.

The two first of the following were taken from the Singer’s mouth;- of the first I cannot help observing that the 9th 10th 11th Stanzas are remarkably like the conclusion of Your William and Margaret- a proof of the truth of Your observation how freely the old Songsters borrow’d from one another;-  The Second (which does not please me so much as some others) I think I have seen in Print at some stall but I cannot say when and where.-  The third Song which was written before the Year 1609 is indeed in Print, but I cou’d not forbear transcribing it, as well for its elegance & beauty as because the Book from whence I took it is rare and in few hands. I need not point out to your observation that noble thought of Despair Lingering at his Gates to let in Death & with the admirably metaphorical composition of his Couch and Staff any more than the false wit in the Last Stanzas so expressive of the age of James the first.

I shall be in Northhamptonshire sometime in June when I will procure what are now collecting and will transmit them to You.

In this as in Everything I shall always be ready to oblige you with the greatest Pleasure

who am

Rev’d Sir

Your Most Obedient

Humble Servant

P. Parsons 6

His letter was accompanied by the following songs

The final letter from Parsons in Percy’s papers was sent on 19th April 1775 – “I here enclose you such Ballads as I can find among my Papers; – If you have received them before, committ them to the flames; if you have not, I wish they may be of Service, & that you may be able to make them out, as it will require some study to overcome the bad writing of Some of them”. The ballads sent were

  • ‘Randall my Son’ (Roud 10) – which Parsons noted “a Friend took from the Spinning Wheel in Suffolk”
  • ‘Long Longkin’ (Roud 6)

There’s another version of ‘Lady Ouncebell’ in Percy’s papers which someone – possibly Francis James Child – has marked “MS Parsons 1775”, but it is not in Parson’s hand.

Parsons states more than once that these songs “were taken down from the mouth of the Spinning wheel”. So presumably from female singers who, unlike their male counterparts labouring in the fields, were engaged in an activity that confined them to their home, and which also allowed them to sing without interrupting their work. Sadly, he did not record the name of any of the singers, nor – in common with other collectors and antiquaries of the time – did he make any attempt to record the tunes to which these songs were sung.

Philip Parsons died at Wye College the age of 82, on 12th June 1812; he was buried in the parish churchyard.

  1. Memoirs of the late Reverend Philip Parsons, M.A., The Gentleman’s Magazine, Vol. 82 Pt. 2 July-Dec 1812, p291 ↩︎
  2. Memoirs of the late Reverend Philip Parsons, M.A., The Gentleman’s Magazine, Vol. 82 Pt. 2 July-Dec 1812, p291 ↩︎
  3. C. Paul Burnham, A Window on the Church of England: The History of Wye Parish Church, Wye Historical Society, 2015, https://www.wyehistoricalsociety.org.uk/downloads/Wye%20Church%20History.pdf ↩︎
  4. E. David Gregory, Victorian Songhunters: The Recovery and Editing of English Vernacular Ballads and Folk Lyrics, 1820-1883, Lanham:Scarecrow, 2006, p38 ↩︎
  5. From the Percy Papers (Percy MS – 129.A), held at the Houghton Library, Harvard. Quoted from http://www.bluegrassmessengers.com/percy-papers–rev-p-parsons-of-wye-1770-1775.aspx ↩︎
  6. Quoted from http://www.bluegrassmessengers.com/parsons-letter-to-percy-may-22-1770-.aspx ↩︎

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Bob Ellison

Robert Ellison, c1836-1916?

Cecil Sharp noted down fourteen sea shanties from Bob Ellison at Belvedere on the 4th and 7th September 1914. Belvedere, between Abbey Wood and Erith, was at that time part of Kent; since 1965 it has formed part of the London Borough of Bexley. Although he didn’t specify this in his manuscripts, when publishing one of Bob Ellison’s songs in the Journal of the Folk-Song Society, Sharp made it clear that he had collected the song at the Sailors’ Home in Belvedere. This was Belvedere House in Erith, run by the Royal Alfred Seafarers’ Society, which had been opened on New Year’s Day 1876, as a home for “Worn-out and Disabled Merchant Seamen”. The charity remained in Belvedere until 1978, before relocating to Belvedere House, Banstead, Surrey, which still operates as a residential home for men or women from a seafaring background.

Sharp must have written to the Governor of the Home, Captain John Dowdy, enquiring if any of the residents were singers, because his archive contains two letters from the Captain. The first (CJS1/13/1/10/1), dated October 14th 1908, is short and to the point:

Dear Sir in answer to yours re. the old men singing to you I regret very much to say that I have no singing men in my crew. I have asked them times out of number to try but they have no voice left in them. Therefore it would only be waste of time and expense to you to come.

Sharp was clearly persistent, because a subsequent reply  (CJS1/13/1/10/2), dated October 22nd began “You are at liberty to come to the Home and do the best you can”, and advised on the best time of day to visit. We do not know if Sharp visited the Home in 1908, but clearly he did go there in 1914 – by which time, one imagines, there would have been a number of new inmates including, presumably, Bob Ellison. In fact, he not only took down shanties from Mr Ellison, but from at least one member of the Belvedere’s staff: as well as the verses of the shanty ‘Shanadar’ which he got from Bob Ellison, he took down another 3 verses which were “Given me by the Hall Porter of Belvedere” (CJS2/10/3028); and the song ‘Drunken Sailor’, which he collected from George Conway at the Sailor’s Home in Leman Street, Whitechapel, includes a verse which Sharp noted was “given me by Doorkeeper of Belvedere Home” (CJS2/10/3025).

Sharp recorded that Mr Ellison was 78 years old, but other than that we know practically nothing about him. However Sharp’s notes for ‘Shanadar’ quote the singer as saying “I am nice and comfortable here but I’m afraid they will want to bury me in a church yard. I would rather be buried on the high seas on a dirty wild night than in Westminster Abbey!”

Looking at the 1911 census return for the Royal Alfred home (listed formally as “The Royal Alfred Institution For Aged Seamen Merchant Service”) there is an inmate by the name of Augustus Ellison. He was unmarried, aged 73, and born at “Durham, Norton on Hill”, presumably the Norton which today forms part of Stockton-on-Tees. When he died in 1916 his age was given as 80 – this tallies with Mr Ellison’s given age when Sharp met him in 1914, so possibly this “Augustus” is Sharp’s “Bob”. However any earlier record of him, in County Durham or elsewhere, has proved elusive.

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Children at Trosley (Trottiscliffe)

On 29th July 1908 Cecil Sharp noted down six children’s singing games at the primary school in ‘Trosley’. This is in fact the local pronunciation of the village officially known as Trottiscliffe – although it has been referred to as both Trosley and Trotterscliffe.

The following description is from The National Gazetteer of Great Britain and Ireland, 1868, quoted from https://www.genuki.org.uk/big/eng/KEN/Trottiscliffe

TROTTISCLIFFE, (or Trotterscliffe or Trosley), a parish in the hundred of Larkfield, lathe of Aylesford, county Kent, 9 miles W. of Maidstone, its post town, and 2 N.E. of Rotham. The village, situated at the foot of the chalk hills, was given by King Offa to Rochester Priory in 788, and subsequently came to the Bishops of Rochester, whose palace was built here in 1185 by Bishop Granville. The land is partly in hop-grounds. The living is a rectory in the diocese of Canterbury, value £332, in the patronage of the lord chancellor. The church, dedicated to SS. Peter and Paul, has been restored and modernised. There is an endowed National school. At a farm in the vicinity Druidical stones, British coins, copper swords, and other relics of antiquity have been discovered.

The name ‘Trosley’ survives today in nearby Trosley Country Park.

Songs

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Charley Appleton

Charles John Appleton, 1866-1949

The following account appeared in the ‘About the Neighbourhood’ column by ‘Felix’ in the Folkestone, Hythe, Sandgate & Cheriton Herald, 5th November 1932: 

“We are all Jolly Fellows that Follow the Plough.”

Upon my word, it is really wonderful what an accumulation of correspondence one receives on various matters in the course of a week or two. For example, I was recently a guest at a harvest home supper, and after sampling “a cut and come again” kind of menu, listened to a very few short speeches and many ancient and modern songs.

Of course the good old “Farmer’s Boy,” with its rollicking chorus came up as fresh as, ever, and so did “We are all jolly fellows that follow the plough.”

Our Mutual Friend, Mr. Appleton, of Pay Street.

The above named farmer who is affectionately known in the countryside as Charley Appleton was present at the harvest supper I refer to and he, knowing my partiality for the song, has taken the trouble to write It out and send it to me. I am not by any means hard-up for subjects, but I must make room for Charley’s effort as follows:

When four o’clock comes
Then up we do rise,
And into the stable
We merrily flies;
Then rubbing and scrubbing
Our horses, I’ll vow
We are all jolly fellows
That follow the plough.

When five o’clock comes
To breakfast we meet;
With beef, pork and bread, boys,
We heartily eat.
With a piece in our pockets
I’ll swear and I’ll vow,
We are all jolly fellows
That follow the plough.

When six o’clock comes
To work we do go –
A trip o’er the plain, boys,
So nimble, you know.
And when we get there, boys,
So noble and bold,
To see which of us
A straight furrow can hold.

Our master came to us
And this he did say:
“What have you been doing, boys,
All this long day;
You have not ploughed an acre,
I’ll swear and I’ll vow:
You’re damned idle fellows,
That follow the plough.

I turned myself round,
And made this reply:
“We have all ploughed our acre,
You tell a damn lie!
We have all ploughed an acre,
I’ll swear and I’ll vow:
And we are all jolly fellows
That follow the plough.”

Our master turned round,
And laughed at the joke:
“It’s past two o’clock, boys,
It’s time to unyoke;
You take home your horses
And rub them down well,
And I’ll give you a jug,
Of the very best ale!”

This ditty, with it [sic] glimpse of farm life, many years ago was a great favourite, but with the increasing number of steam ploughs and tractors, bids fair to become but a memory. It is not only the humorous side, but the rough and ready manner of the singing of them that renders the listening to such songs so enjoyable.

There doesn’t seem much in it,”

Yes, in these days one can imagine a townsman declaring as above but anyone who has witnessed those straight furrows across the ploughed land may well marvel at the skill often displayed by the men employed. In this old picture note the time 4 a.m. in the first verse. It meant going into the stable with a lantern to feed the horses and then to breakfast, “with beef, pork and bread boys.”  I once witnessed a ploughing match and never since that day have I forgotten what a straight furrow means. We all remember how on one occasion the late Lord Rosebery left the then cabinet and declared he would “plough his lonely furrow alone.” And he did thereafter. I thank our good friend Charley of Pay Street fame for thinking of us benighted  townsmen. And that reminds me that on one occasion I met Charley in Tontine Street. He said: “Why don’t you give us a look up at our cottage some day.” I replied, “Ah! that’s a pretty old cottage isn’t it.” Charley replied “It was built before Noah entered the Ark.” Months after I paid a visit to Pay Street and explored the cottage. Well, with its huge beams placed this way, that way, upright or on the slant I found it a most extraordinary place and I should wonder if the gentleman who designed the ark had not had something to do with Charley’s Cottage. Ah! it was a snug little place though, with a duck pond outside and old English flowers smothering the frontage. Tucked away amongst the trees I well liked the old house. Charley and his family lived there many years. But now they reside in a 20th century bungalow and I hope and we all hope that there is much happiness and a life before them.

Charley was born on 11th Mar 1866, and baptised on 6th May at St Anthony the Martyr, Alkham. The 1871 census has the Appleton family living at “Woolverton” (actually Wolverton), Alkham. The household consisted of Charley’s father, also Charles, an agricultural labourer; his mother Jane and her father, William Rolfe; two older siblings and two younger. By 1881 the still growing family had moved to Noah’s Ark Cottage, Alkham, and his father was working as a farm bailiff. Charley however, now 15, was employed by George Seath (“Farmer 217 acres 9 men 1 boy”) as “Farm servant (indoor)” at Lower Standen Farm, Hawkinge.

He was married on 23rd February 1889 at St Michael’s, Hawkinge, to Susannah Kember. The 1891 census shows them living at 30 Queen Street, Folkestone. They had a one year old daughter, and there were three lodgers in the house. Charley was working as a carter for the Corporation, but at some point in the next ten years he took up farming: in 1901 he was to be found at Hawkinge Hall, Hawkinge, his occupation “Farmer & dairyman”. He and Susannah now had three children; her widowed mother, also Susannah, was living with them.

Charley continued working as a dairy farmer, and from 1911 onwards the census records show him at Pay Street near Densole. This would have been where ‘Felix’ visited him in his cottage. By 1932, when Charley appeared in the ‘About the Neighbourhood’ newspaper column, he was living in a modern bungalow. Presumably this was The Cabin, Pay Street, which was given as his address in the 1939 Register. His occupation was given as “Farmer Retired”. He died on 1st January 1949, at the age of 82.

The noted singer George Spicer, although he hailed from the Ashford area, came to work at Coolinge Farm, a large dairy farm to the west of Folkestone, in the mid-1920s. In 1927 he married Dorothy Appleton, who was the daughter of Charley Appleton’s younger brother Sid, and George and Charley must therefore have known each other.

Songs

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Felix

William George Glanfield, 1855-1935

William Glanfield was born at the School House, Sandgate on 29th March 1855, and baptised at St Paul’s, Sandgate, on 30th May. His father – also William – was head master at the National School in Sandgate from 1854 to 1884, and this was the school which young William attended. When he left school he was apprenticed to a Folkestone printer, and then worked for a printing company in London. On returning to Folkestone, he joined the staff of the Folkestone Chronicle, subsequently absorbed by the Folkestone Herald (there were four rival newspapers in the town at that time). His association with the Folkestone Herald began in November 1891, about six months after the birth of that newspaper. His obituary in the Folkestone, Hythe, Sandgate & Cheriton Herald, 2nd February 1935, recorded that

In the first special article that he penned for the paper to which he was to devote his life during the next 44 years, there was a touch of romance and drama. It was a graphic account of the wreck of the “Benvenue,” a ship which was wrecked at Sandgate on November 11th, 1891, in a terrific gale. It was this story of the terrible peril of the crew of the wrecked vessel and the gallant attempts at rescue that “Felix” submitted to the then very young “Folkestone Herald.” It was accepted, and in the issue of the paper that week appeared a picture of the rescued crew. “Felix” had taken the precious negative to London and returned to Folkestone with the process block from which the first picture of the kind was printed in a local newspaper. […]

It was a memorable beginning to a great career In which his powers as a descriptive writer were so often brilliantly used.

Under the non-de-plume ‘Felix’, Glanfield was most closely associated with the “About the neighbourhood” columns which appeared in the paper. In these he wrote about local events he had attended, and about characters he had met, and the sights he had seen, on his lengthy walks around the countryside. The events sometimes included harvest homes and hunt suppers, where singing might take place, while the local characters he wrote about were sometimes identified as singers. These included Charley Appleton, James Rye, George Mount, and Tom Catt. He did not himself collect any folk songs; indeed when he reproduced the words of ‘We are all Jolly Fellows that Follow the Plough’ in his column, these had been written out and sent to him by Charley Appleton.

Glanfield himself was a singer, for 19 years a member of the choir of Holy Trinity, Folkestone, with whom he took the role of bass soloist: “He had a voice of quality, and could sing some of the best-loved of the older songs with tremendous feeling”.1 The phrase “older songs” here almost certainly does not refer to traditional folk songs, but is probably reflective of his distaste for more modern musical styles (see the article quoted below, headed ‘The Folkestone Harbour Marine Staff’). His writings about singing events, certainly towards the end of his life, are decidedly nostalgic, but consistently applaud and promote the virtues of “community singing”. For example, writing in 1934 about the singing of ‘The Farmer’s Boy’ at an annual dinner of the Shorncliffe Drag Hunt some forty years earlier, he concludes

Singing! Rough and ready it might have been, but what a treat to hear those yeomen “go it.” 2

William Glanfield was knocked down by a motor car in November 1934 and, after having spent some time in hospital, he died at his home, 6 Russell Road, Folkestone, on 29th January 1935, at the age of 79.

Extracts from Glanfield’s writing

HARVEST HOME AT NEWINGTON.

FARM HANDS ENJOY A SUBSTANTIAL DINNER.

A CELEBRATED BRAND OF BEEF PUDDINGS.

“THE EMPEROR OF NEWINGTON, “KING OF CHERITON,” AND “SHAH OF FOLKESTONE.”

A RATTLING GOOD EVENING.

(By Felix.).

We are just now in the thick of harvest celebrations, both religious and secular. I have no doubt that nearly all the company I had the pleasure of meeting on Wednesday evening at the “Star,” Newington, had been at least reminded of the spiritual lessons of the ingathering of the crops, and thus, in a measure, they had been prepared for the festivity, which, so far as Cheriton and Newington are concerned, marks an annual red-letter day in the lives of those who “plough the fields and scatter the good seed on the land.” This harvest home, unique in its way, is given to the men in their employ by Mr. Quested, of “The Firs,” Cheriton, and Mr. F. Graves, of “Pound Farm,” Newington. For six months in the year the past Celebration is a pleasant memory, and during the other half of the twelve months, the coming festivity provides the pleasures of anticipation. Five years have slipped past since I was enabled to accept the hospitality of the founders of this particular feast.

OPPORTUNITY, HOWEVER, OFFERED ITSELF

on this occasion. Accordingly I found myself at the celebrated hostelry referred to on the evening in question. Here I had the pleasure of meeting Alderman Banks, a number of invited guests, and about fifty sons of toil. The dining room was a picture and a reminder of the special nature of the celebration. From the ceiling were suspended huge specimens of gourds, mangold wurtzels, marrows, cow cabbage, cauliflower, turnips, etc., whilst autumnal flowers added yet another touch of colour and brightness to the scene, which was lighted by means of oil lamps and candles. When the senior Alderman of Folkestone, surrounded by several old and young friends, sank into his comfortable arm-chair, he received a right down hearty welcome from the assembled company. Dressed all in their Sunday best, each wearing a flower or wisp of corn in their coats, these workers, with their ruddy, shining faces, presented a typical picture of the English agricultural labourer. The clear air of Wednesday last will be remembered for its exhilarating qualities, and this, coupled with the healthful calling of the men, will readily account for the fact that appetites were in perfect condition. No supper at the “Star” would be complete without a supply of Mrs. Maycock’s special brand of Newington beef puddings.

THESE DELICACIES ARE FAMED THE COUNTRY ROUND,

and the farm hands swear by them. Offer these sons of toil clear or thick ox-tail soup, turbot, and shrimp sauce, or salmon and cucumber, and their faces would probably wear a look of disgust or wonderment, , but substitute beef pudding for these, and then they will understand matters, adding, perhaps, by way of comment: “Ah! That’s the tackle, There’s summut there to lay hold on.” Therefore, when the stalwart sons of Mr. Maycock entered the room, each bearing on a dish a mammoth and steaming beef pudding, knives and forks were seized almost involuntarily. Mr. “Freddy” Graves and Mr. Councillor Quested,

EACH ARMED WITH A CARVER,

proceeded to cut the light crust of the puddings, and as the water gushed out of the rock at the touch of Moses, so did the delicious gravy at the hands of the gentlemen mentioned. Thereafter the puddings (during the short time they remained) were as islands of beef and crust, surrounded by rich gravy. Mashed turnips, floury potatoes, and tender cabbage, also contributed to the first course, which a neighbouring ploughman remarked, was very well by way of foundation. Puddings are generally supposed to be satisfying. One helping is generally thought to be amply sufficient to meet the requirements of an average townsman, but with the “man on the land,” it is a mere “paving of the way.” Thus it was that when rounds of roast beef and boiled legs of mutton made their appearance, only to disappear, that somewhat Nelsonian command

was strictly obeyed : “Newington expects that every man, this night, will do his duty.” Just by way of settling these substantial courses, “Christmas” puddings were then discussed with astounding vigour. Now

EMPTY PLATES AND SATISFIED EXPRESSIONS

told their own eloquent tale. Mr. Evans, the ever genial manager of the Royal Pavilion Hotel, graced the company with his presence, and I doubt, with all his experience of banquets, and their tempting menus, if he ever gazed upon a company that did better justice to a spread than did the guests over at Newington. The Alderman having “returned thanks,” tables were cleared, “Churchwarden” pipes, “jugs of beer,” and beverages from the Emerald Isle and North of the Tweed, were now much in evidence. “Minerals” also there were in plenty for those who needed them. The Chairman, in spite of the 76 years that weigh lightly upon him, was in his best form—full of “go,” racy, and witty. In glowing Ianguage he proposed the health of “The Queen,” and in doing so he expressed his opinion that in 50 years’ time the English language would be almost universal. The toast was accorded the usual loyal honours, Mr. Percy Greenstreet presiding at the piano. Thereafter

SPEECH AND SONG ALTERNATED.

Dick Mount, a farm hand of some seventy summers, in a twenty-verse song, told the story of a bashful swain and an innocent country lass, whilst another follower of the plough related in a ditty the doings of a certain little tailor of Dover3, much to the amusement of the company. Other successful vocal efforts were also duly enjoyed, and notable amongst these were the contributions of the ill-used Folkestone minstrels. A few toasts were proposed. One ancient countryman, in lieu of a song, was heard to express himself to the following effect :-

“Here’s to mountains of beef
And rivers of beer,
A good-temper’d wife,
And a thousand a year.”

Perhaps the first three he has realised, but whether the thousand will ever come to him time alone will prove. Let us hope so, but perhaps, after all, he is just as happy without it.

ALDERMAN BANKS,

in a humorous speech, proposed “The Founders of the feast,” Messrs. Quested and Graves. The former gentleman is generally known as Chairman of the Cheriton Urban District Council, but the Alderman has conferred upon him the title of the King of Cheriton, whilst the owner of Pound Farm is henceforward to be known as the “Emperor of Newington.” Thus the senior Alderman orders it. The Chairman then proceeded to give a learned dissertation on matters generally appertaining to agriculture, and, in the course of his remarks, proceeded to tell the labourers that they were better off than their masters, that was, “If they could only see it.” He had known both Mr. Quested and Mr. Graves for several years, and from what he knew of them both, he had no hesitation in describing them as “jolly good fellows.” The company, now warming up to the occasion, appeared to agree with this latter opinion, for the men burst out in loud applause.  The “The Emperor of Newington” replied and acknowledged, in grateful terms,

THE GAME OLD ALDERMAN’S

remarks, expressing a hope they would be able to welcome him on many similar occasions. “The King of Cheriton,” not to be outdone in courtesy, expressed the pleasure it gave him to listen to Alderman Banks’ remarks, and before sitting down he felt he was only interpreting the wishes of all when he conferred upon the Alderman a fresh title. A few days since, at a meeting at the Town Hall, Sir Ed. Sassoon had described the chairman as The “Grand Old Man of Folkestone,” but he (Mr. Quested) would go a step further in exchange for the honours accorded both himself and his colleague by conferring upon the Alderman the title of “The Shah of Folkestone.” Amidst loud laughter the speaker concluded by proposing the Chairman’s health. “The Shah,” in acknowledging the honour, said although he did not possess so many wives as the eastern potentate, he was very well satisfied with one. He could assure them all he was proud of his new title, and would do his best to be worthv of his exalted position. The speaker concluded a characteristic racy speech by declaring that although at his advanced age he could not expect to be present at many more such gatherings, yet he hoped they would meet for many years in a similar manner, for it was well that men and masters should gather round the festive board. The hour’s extension (11 o’clock) having been reached, the company separated, the farm hands to dream of beef pudding; the royalty” and other guests of a more pleasant diversion from the ordinary trammels of daily existence. 4

“We’ll all go a hunting to-day,” etc.

A few nights since I found myself sitting at the festive board of the Hythe Gardeners’ Society, the occasion being the annual dinner, now revived after the upset of the Great War. Thus old England is gradually reverting back to its good old institutions. Sweep away nearly all the provisions of D.O.R.A. [Defence of the Realm Act, 1914] and Englishmen will once again really feel that they are living in the land of the free. The Mayor (AIderman F. W. Butler, J.P.) presided over the happy gathering I refer to. Right down pleased was I to renew acquaintance with many old friends. Yes, there was a nice “go” about the proceedings. The order went forth that speeches were to be of the briefest, and this injunction was obeyed. There was indeed a feast of song rather than oratory. Quite informally, Major Butler said : “Let’s have some community singing,” and, suiting his words to the occasion, he called upon that jolly veteran, Mr. S. Brogdale, Chairman of the Saltwood Gardeners’ Society. This gentleman, whom age does not wither, has a rollicking style, and this was in full evidence when he sang “We’ll all go a hunting to-day “—one of those old songs which, similarly to “The Farmer’s Boy,” will never die. But it was the chorus to the many verses that one so much enjoyed. Looking around the room, every face appeared to be lighted up with joy as the company sang with strident voices :

“We’ll all go a-hunting to-day,
All nature is smiling and gay.”

One does not need to write that the musical “polish” was not great, but the manner of the rendering of the chorus showed how much everyone enjoyed it. The Major, whom I recall having heard sing many years ago, gave that old-timer, “Tommy Atkins,” and here again the chorus was of the same rousing character. This only goes to prove how much community singing is enjoyed. The old Folkestone fishermen years ago must have had this kind of thing in their minds when they joined in the chorus, or community singing, as it is now termed.

“Join in the chor-i-us,
“Join in the chor-i-us,
Join in the chor-i-us,”
It is a chorus song.”

Our old friend “D’ye ken John Peel?” also figured in the programme on the enjoyable evening I allude to.

A Memory of Shorncliffe Gymnasium.

The foregoing reminds me that at one time the officers comprising members of the Shorncliffe Drag Hunt were wont to give a dinner to farmers whose lands were hunted over by the “Drag.” Those farmers, with their friends, were right royally entertained on such occasions. One such gathering occurs to me as I mention community singing. It was at that period when that splendid sportsman, the late Hon. A.S. Hardinge, was Brigade-Major. That gallant gentleman was a real favourite with the sturdy yeomen. His jet black hair, his dark flashing eyes, and his lithe, dapper figure come before me as I wield my pen. Probably there were 400 or 500 guests present at the particular dinner I refer to. After the good things had been properly attended to by the sons of the soil, the full band rendered some delightful selections. Suddenly there were cries of “Catt, Catt,” from all parts of the great building. ” Catt,” be it explained, died several years ago. He was a short sturdy man with a jolly countenance. He was not a great singer. He did not pretend to be. His repertoire was limited to about three songs, and one of these was “John Peel.” I well remember how the hero of the moment was greeted when he appeared on the platform. Catt had just the good old rollicking style for the song, but it was the community singing, as represented by the chorus of “John Peel,” that brought down the house, or rather, lifted the roof. The memory of the rendition of the song and chorus remains with me. Rough and ready it may have been, but Catt, who was a jolly farmer and poultry raiser at Ham Street, exactly fitted the song.5

The Folkestone Harbour Marine Staff.

On Saturday night I found myself in the company of as jolly a lot of young fellows as could wish to meet. They were the rank and file of those that do duty in handling the goods traffic when, as a rule, Folkestone is sleeping. They celebrated their existence on Saturday evening by enjoying what might be described as a “cut and come again” kind of repast. There were no printed menus, but there was a choice of roast or boiled (the latter with trimming,). There were no “hedgers.” Every man did his duty in this respect, and after their hearty repast they could adopt the lines of the song

“I feel content with all mankind,
For life’s a sea of pleasure.”

But although this kind of sentiment may be of a transient nature, yet it is wonderful how these little functions draw people together. In the long run it all tends to friendship and comradeship. On this occasion there was a flow of songs, not of the American jazz order, but those good old British ditties, that stand the test of time—”the songs my mother used to sing.” Time after time have I attended pleasant little functions where songs have a place, but invariably I have heard people express themselves after a fill of jazz. “Ah! After all, there is nothing like the old songs.” This gathering I was at on Saturday night was at the Harvey Hotel, where it was my lot a year or so ago to sit out an after-dinner programme. In the afternoon I had listened at the Pleasure Gardens to that great artiste, Mr. John Coates, who rendered in his incomparable style some of those now little known old English songs of periods long ago. It was a delightful experience. In the evening I had to hear the following twentieth century composition set to “jazz ” music:-

“I love doughnuts with jam in the
Jam in the middle, jam in the middle.'”

The contrast was great, and the more so owing to the rendering of another ditty termed, “They think I’m not all there.” But on Saturday last we had the “good old timers” including “Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep,”  “The Farmer’s Boy,” “The Village Blacksmith,” and others of that ilk. As a sturdy harbour porter remarked to me: ” Say, Felix, there is ‘something to eat’ in those kind of songs.” Yes, that event at the Harvey Hotel reminded me of the good old sing-songs and “friendly leads” of years ago. I would like to see more of them. I firmly believe there will be a revival in this respect. 6

Further extracts from “About the neighbourhood” columns by ‘Felix’ can be found in the articles on Charley Appleton, James Rye, George Mount, and Tom Catt.

  1. Folkestone, Hythe, Sandgate & Cheriton Herald, 02 February 1935 ↩︎
  2. Folkestone, Hythe, Sandgate & Cheriton Herald, 03 March 1934 ↩︎
  3. This song was most probably Roud 570, known under various titles including ‘The Bold Boatswain of Dover’ and  ‘The Boatsman and the tailor’. Francis Collinson noted down a 2 verse version in Pembury in 1952 – see ‘There was a jolly boatman’. ↩︎
  4. Folkestone, Hythe, Sandgate & Cheriton Herald, 06 October 1900 ↩︎
  5. Folkestone, Hythe, Sandgate & Cheriton Herald, 19th February 1927 ↩︎
  6. Folkestone, Hythe, Sandgate & Cheriton Herald, 28th January 1928 ↩︎

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