The True Lovers (or Lord Lovel) - a folksong mentioning Kenton (possibly the Devon one?)

Kenton Church, Devon, 1982 - from John Salmon [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"Lord Lovel he stood at his own castle gate,
Combing his milk-white steed,
When up came Lady Nancy Bell
To wish her lover good speed speed speed,
To wish her lover good speed.

" Where are you going, Lord Lovel ?" she said,
" Oh, where are you going ?" said she,
" I'm going my Lady Nancy Bell,
Strange countries for to see see see,
Strange countries for to see."

" When will you come back, Lord Lovel ?" she said,
" When will you come back to me ?"
"In a year or two, or three at most,
I'll return to my Lady Nancy cy cy,
I'll return to my Lady Nancy ?"

But he hadden been gone but a year and a day
Strange countries for to see,
When languishing thoughts came into his head
Lady Nancy Bell to see see see,
Lady Nancy Bell to see.

So he rode, and he rode on his milk-white steed,
Till he came to Kenton town,
When he heard St. Andrew's Church bells ring,
And the people all mourning around round round,
And the people all mourning around.

" Oh, what is the matter ?" Lord Lovel, he said,
"Oh, what is the matter ?" said he,
" A Lord's Lady is dead," an old woman said,
" And some call her the Lady Nancy cy cy,
And some call her the Lady Nancy."

So he ordered the grave to be opened wide,
And the shroud to be turned down,
And then he kissed her clay-cold lips,
Till the tears came trickling down down down,
Till the tears came trickling down.

Lady Nancy died as it might be to-day,

Lord Lovel he died as to-morrow,
Lady Nancy, she died out of pure, pure grief,
Lord Lovel, he died out of sorrow sorrow sorrow,
Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow.

Lady Nancy was laid in the cold churchyard,

Lord Lovel was laid in the choir ;
And out of her bosom there grew a red rose,
And out of his a sweet brier rier rier,
And out of his a sweet brier.

They grew and they grew to the church steeple top,

And then they could grow no higher,
So there they entwined in a true-lovers-knot,
For all true lovers to admire mire mire, 

For all true lovers to admire.

Sung by Mr. Ted Ward, at a harvest supper, September, 1893."

Hewett 1900

Map - Kenton

[Some tunes and words exists here, Roud No. 48, one from Sabine Baring-Gould's manuscripts, that looks the same.  It is also Child Ballads N° 75. A good rendition is found here, though 'Kenton Town' is now 'Fair London Town'.  The Kenton here could well be the Kenton in Devon, by Berry Pomeroy Castle, seeing as Hewett collected her stories in Devon, and especially in this area - However Kenton church is dedicated to All Saints, and not specifically to Saint Andrew - it could be the Kenton in London!]

The White Bird of the Oxenhams of South Tawton - Part 2

The White Bird of the Oxenhams - From a scanned version of Devonshire characters and strange events by Sabine Baring-Gould, published in 1908, http://www.archive.org/details/devonshirecharac00bariuoft

"...For those who may be unable to procure the whole of the poem, I select one or two stanzas which may be interesting.

Where lofty hills in grandeur meet,
And Taw meandering flows,
There is a calm and sweet retreat
Where once a mansion rose.
 

There dwelt Sir James of Oxenham,
A brave and liberal lord :
Benighted travellers never came
Unwelcome to his board.

Here it goes on to say that Margaret was sole heiress to his property ; she was wooed by one Bertram, who from a blow on the head became an imbecile. Margaret's grief was great, but " consoling time healed the heart with anguish grieved," and " soft vermilion of her cheek again begins to flow."

Then John the Knight of Roxamcave
Sought her fair hand to gain :
And he was handsome, young, and brave
How could he plead in vain ?
 

He fondly pressed his Margaret
To fix their nuptial day,
And on its joyful eve they met
With friends and kinsfolk gay.

~#~

How happy was Sir James that night,
Unburdened of his care.
For he believed, with fond delight,
That heaven had heard his prayer.
 

~#~

Then up he rose, with joy elate,
To speak unto Sir John,
And rapt desire, outspeeding fate,
In thought he called him son.
 

But while the dear unpractised word
Was forming on his tongue,
He saw a silvery-breasted bird
Fly o'er the festive throng.
 

~#~

Now John, and Margaret, and her sire,
With many a dame and knight,
Ranged round the altar, heard the friar
Begin the holy rite.
 

When Margaret, with terrific screams,
Made all with horror start.
Oh, heavens ! her blood in torrents streamed,
A dagger's in her heart.
 

Behind stood Bertram, who then drew
Away the reeking blade ;
And frantically laughed to view
The life-blood of his maid.

" Now marry me, proud maid !" he cried,
" Thy blood with mine shall wed."
Then dashed the dagger in his side,
And on the ground fell dead.

Poor Margaret, too, grows cold with death,
And round her, hovering, flies
The phantom bird for her last breath,
To bear it to the skies."

 

Hewett 1900

 

Map - Okehampton
Map - South Tawton

Dozmare Pool - part 2

Dozmary Pool -   © Copyright Steve G and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

"...Occasionally, too, it is said this miserable monster is hunted by the devil round and about the tarn, when he flies to the Roche Rocks, some 15 miles distant, and, by thrusting his head in at the chapel window, finds a respite from his torments. Other versions of the legend place Tregeagle on the coast near Padstow, where he is condemned to make trusses of sand and ropes of sand to bind them; or at the mouth of the estuary at Helston, across which he was condemned to carry sacks of sand until the beach should be clean of the rocks. 

The story of Tregeagle, however, with his endless labour, has been connected in Cornwall with a real person, the dishonest steward of Lord Robartes at Lanhydrock (where a room in the house is still called Tregeagle's), who maltreated the tenants under his charge, and amassed money sufficient to purchase the estate of Trevorder, in St. Breock, where he distinguished himself as a harsh and arbitrary magistrate."

Hope 1893


Map - Dozmary Pool
Map - Padstow
Map - Helston Estuary
Map - Lanhydrock
Map - Saint Breock

Coffinswell, 'Accombe and Daccombe...

["Coffinswell, 'Accombe and Daccombe - all begins with A"

This rhyme was reportedly heard recently in a shop in Newton Abbot. When questioned the shop keeper replied that 'All' does indeed begin with an A...

Haccombe ('Accombe) was a place where the owner of Coffinswell and Daccombe farms lived in the past, and used to be an important village in the area. In 1850 it had only 14 inhabitants, yet several inhabitants of Haccombe House where knighted.

Another person reports the rhyme, albeit with the towns in a different order, here.]

Jahn Tregeagle the Steward - part 2

'..."And he rent for the man, and axed 'n for az rent: and the man said he'd apaid az rent: and the lord said he hadn't, there warn't no cross to az name in the books, and he tould 'n that he 'd have the law for 'ii if he didn't pay.

"And the man, he didn't know what to do: and he went yore to the minister of Simonward; [St Breward.] and the minister axed 'n if he'd a got faith: and the man, he hadn't got faith, and he was obliged for to come homewards again.

"And after that the 'Zaizes was coming naigh, and he was becoming afeerd, sure enough: and he went yore to the minister again, and tould'n he'd a got faith; the minister might do whatever a laiked.

"And the minister draed a ring out on the floor: and he caaled out dree times, Jahn Tergagle, Jahn Tergagle, Jahn Tergagle I and (I 've a heerd the ould men tell ut, sir) theess Jahn Tergagle stood before mun in the middle of the ring.

"And he went yore wi' mun to the Ezaizes, and gave ax evidence and tould how this man had a paid az rent; and the lord he was cast.

"And after that they was come back to their own house, theess Jahn Tergagle he gave mun a brave deal of trouble; he was knackin' about the place, and wouldn't laive mun alone at all...'

Hunt 1903

Jahn Tregeagle the Steward - part 1

'THERE are numerous versions of this legend, and sundry statements I made as to the man who is supposed to have achieved the no very envious immortality which he enjoys.


One or two of these may interest the reader.
 
The following very characteristic narrative, from a much-esteemed correspondent, gives several incidents which have not a place in the legend as I have related it, which comprehends the explanation given for the appearance of Tregeagle at so many different parts of the county.

The Tregeagle, of whom mention occurs in the writings of Cornish legendary authors, was a real person: a member of a respectable family, resident during the seventeenth century at Trevorder, in the parish of St Breock, and identical probably with a John Tregeagle whose tombstone may yet be seen in the parish church there, close to the chancel.

Lingering one day amid the venerable arches of that same church, the narrator, a native of the parish, encountered, near a small transept called the Trevorder aisle, the sexton, a man then perhaps of about eighty years of age. The conversation turning not unnaturally on the "illustrious dead," the narrator was gratified in receiving from the lips of the old man the following characteristic specimen of folk-lore, the greater part of which has remained clearly imprinted in his memory after a Iapse of many years; though [he thinks he has had to supply the very last sentence of all from the general popular tradition] here and there he may have had to supply a few expressions:

"Theess Jahn Tergagle, I 'ye a heerd mun tell, sir, he was a steward to a lord.

"And a man came fore to the court and paid ax rent: and Jahn Tergagle didn't put no cross to az name in the books.

"And after that Tergagle daied: and the lord came down to look after az rents: and when he zeed the books, he zeed this man's name that there wasn't no cross to ut...' [cont.]

Hunt 1903

Berry Pomeroy castle and its destruction

'The lands passed to the family of the Lord Protector Somerset, forfeited by treason; and Sir Edward Seymour, the leader of "the country party" against James II, maintained here a splendid estate, but the place appears to have fallen into decay soon after his decease.  Tradition ascribes the destruction to lightning.'

Hope Moncrieff 1895

Tiverton Castle and the 'Mistletoe Bough'

'Here is preserved a grim relic - that fatal chest celebrated in Rogers' "Ginevra" and that once popular song of "The Mistletoe Bough".'

Hope Moncrieff 1895


'MISTLETOE BOUGH

(G) C G C / F G7 C / C G C / F G7 C

The mistletoe hung in the castle hall;
The holly branch shone on the old oak wall.
The Baron's retainers were blithe and gay,
Keeping the Christmas holiday.

The Baron beheld with a father's pride
His beautiful child, Lord Lovell's bride.
And she, with her bright eyes seemed to be
The star of that goodly company.

F G7 C

Oh, the mistletoe bough.

"I'm weary of dancing, now," she cried;
"Here, tarry a moment, I'll hide, I'll hide,
And, Lovell, be sure you're the first to trace
The clue to my secret hiding place."

Away she ran, and her friends began
Each tower to search and each nook to scan.
And young Lovell cried, "Oh, where do you hide?
I'm lonesome without you, my own fair bride."

Oh, the mistletoe bough.

They sought her that night, they sought her next day,
They sought her in vain when a week passed away.
In the highest, the lowest, the loneliest spot,
Young Lovell sought wildly, but found her not.

The years passed by and their brief at last
Was told as a sorrowful tale long past.
When Lovell appeared, all the children cried,
"See the old man weeps for his fairy bride."
Oh, the mistletoe bough.

At length, an old chest that had long laid hid
Was found in the castle; they raised the lid.
A skeleton form lay mouldering there
In the bridal wreath of that lady fair.

How sad the day when in sportive jest
She hid from her lord in the old oak chest,
It closed with a spring and a dreadful doom,
And the bride lay clasped in a living tomb.

Oh, the mistletoe bough.

Published in "Ozark Folksongs" by Randolph and other folk music
collections. It is credited to Thomas Haynes Bayley, who also
wrote "Long Long Ago," and dates back to the early 19th century.'

[from The Mudcat Cafe - http://mudcat.org/]

How Tom and Jack found tin, part 8

[cont.]'..."Art thou the devil?" exclaimed Pengerswick.

"As he 's a friend of yours," says Jack, "you should know his countenance."

"Devil or no devil," roared Pengerswick, "you cannot resist this," and he held before Jack a curiously-shaped piece of polished steel.

Jack only smiled, and quietly unfastening his cow's hide, he opened it. The cross, like a star of fire, was reflected in a mirror under Jack's coat, and it fell from Pengerswick's grasp. Jack seized it, and turning it full upon the enchanter, the proud lord sank trembling to the ground, piteously imploring Jack to spare his life and let him go free. Jack bade the prostrate lord rise from the ground. He kicked him out of the castle, and sent the vicious mare after him. Thus he saved Tom and his family from the power of this great enchanter. In a little time the sleep which had fallen upon them passed away, and they awoke, as though from the effects of a drunken frolic. The brewer hurried home, and Tom and Jack set to work to dress their tin. Tom and Jane's relations and friends flocked around them, but Jack said, "Summer flies are only seen in the sunshine," and he shortly after this put their friendship to the test, by conveying to them the idea that Tom had spent all his wealth. These new friends dropped off when they thought they could get no more, and Tom and Jane were thoroughly disgusted with their summer friends and selfish relations. The tinkeard established himself firmly as an inmate of the castle. No more was said about the right of the public to make a king's highway through the castle grounds. He aided Torn in hedging in the wastelands, and very carefully secured the gates against all intruders. In fact, he also quite altered his politics.

How Tom and Jack found tin, part 7

[cont.] '...Jane, as soon as Tom and Jack had left her, had proceeded to the room in the wall, and with much care removed the jewels, gold, and dresses, caring little, as she afterwards said, for the dead bones, although they rattled as she shook them out of the robes. In a little time she had all the dresses in the main court of the castle, and having well beaten and brushed them, she selected the finest--those she now wore--and put the rest aside for other grand occasions.

The condescension of the great Lord of Pengerswick was something wonderful. He kissed Jane until Tom was almost jealous, and the great lord romped about the court of the castle with the children. Tom was, on the whole, however, delighted with the attention paid to his wife by a real lord, but our clear-headed Jack saw through it all, and took measures accordingly.

Pengerswick tried hard to learn the secret of the stores of tin, but he was foiled by the tinkeard on every tack. You may well suppose how desirous he was of getting Jack out of the way, and eventually he began to try his spells upon him. The power of his necromancy was such, that all in the castle were fixed in sleep as rigid as stones, save Jack. All that the enchanter could do produced no effect on him. He sat quietly looking on, occasionally humming some old troll, and now and then whistling to show his unconcern. At last Pengerswick became enraged, and he drew from his breast a dagger and slyly struck at Jack. The dagger, which was of the finest Eastern steel, was bent like a piece of soft iron against Jack's black hide....' [cont.]

Hunt 1903

How Tom and Jack found tin, part 5

[cont. '...The brewer of Market-Jew was also mayor, and, as it appears, tin-smelter, or tin merchant. To him, therefore, Tom went with his black tin, [c] and received not only his cask of beer, but such an amount of golden coin--all of it being a foreign coinage--as convinced him that Jack had not deceived him. This brewer is reputed to have been an exceedingly honest and kind-hearted man, beloved by all. It was his practice, when any of the townspeople came before him, begging him to settle their disputes,--even when they "limbed" one another,--to shut them up in the brewery-yard, give them as much beer as they could drink, and keep them there until they became good friends. Owing to this practice he seldom had enough beer to sell, and was frequently troubled to pay for his barley. This brewer, who was reputed to be "the best mayor that ever was since the creation of gray cats," gave rise, from the above practice of his, to the proverb still in daily use, "Standing, like the mayor of Market-Jew, in his own light."

The mayor was always fat and jolly. He was an especial favourite, too, with the Lord of Pengerswick, who is believed to have helped him out of many troubles. He had bought his tin of Tom and Jack, such a bargain, that he resolved to have some sport, so a barrel of beer was broached in the yard, and the crier was sent round the town to call all hands to a "courant" (merrymaking)....' [cont.]

Hunt 1903