Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs By Walter Thornbury. Illustrated by J. Whistler, F. Walker, John Tenniel, J. D. Watson, W. Small, F. Sandys, G. J. Pinwell, T. Morten, M. J. Lawless, and many others |
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The Death of th' Owd Squire.
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 | Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs |  |
134
The Death of th' Owd Squire.
'T was a wild, mad kind of night, as black as the bottomless pit,
The wind was howling away, like a Bedlamite in a fit,
Tearing the ash-boughs off, and mowing the poplars down,
In the meadows beyond the old flour-mill, where you turn oft to the town.
The wind was howling away, like a Bedlamite in a fit,
Tearing the ash-boughs off, and mowing the poplars down,
In the meadows beyond the old flour-mill, where you turn oft to the town.
And the rain (well, it did rain) dashing the window glass,
And deluging on the roof, as the Devil were come to pass;
The gutters were running in floods outside the stable door,
And the spouts splashed from the tiles, as if they would never give o'er.
And deluging on the roof, as the Devil were come to pass;
The gutters were running in floods outside the stable door,
And the spouts splashed from the tiles, as if they would never give o'er.
Lor' how the winders rattled! you'd almost ha' thought that thieves
Were wrenching at the shutters, while a ceaseless pelt of leaves
Flew at the door in gusts; and I could hear the beck
Calling so loud, I knew at once it was up to a tall man's neck.
Were wrenching at the shutters, while a ceaseless pelt of leaves
Flew at the door in gusts; and I could hear the beck
Calling so loud, I knew at once it was up to a tall man's neck.
We was huddling in the harness-room, by a little scrap of fire,
And Tom, the coachman, he was there, a-practising for the choir;
But it sounded desmal, anthem did, for Squire was dying fast,
And the doctor'd said, do what he would, “Squire's breaking up at last.”
And Tom, the coachman, he was there, a-practising for the choir;
But it sounded desmal, anthem did, for Squire was dying fast,
And the doctor'd said, do what he would, “Squire's breaking up at last.”
The Death-watch, sure enough, ticked loud just over th' owd mare's head,
Though he had never once been heard up there since master's boy lay dead;
And the only sound, besides Tom's toon, was the stirring in the stalls,
And the gnawing and the scratching of the rats in the owd walls.
Though he had never once been heard up there since master's boy lay dead;
And the only sound, besides Tom's toon, was the stirring in the stalls,
And the gnawing and the scratching of the rats in the owd walls.
We couldn't hear Death's foot pass by, but we knew that he was near;
And the chill rain, and the wind and cold, made us all shake with fear;
We listened to the clock upstairs,—'t was breathing soft and low,
For the nurse said at the turn of night the old Squire's soul would go.
And the chill rain, and the wind and cold, made us all shake with fear;
We listened to the clock upstairs,—'t was breathing soft and low,
For the nurse said at the turn of night the old Squire's soul would go.
Master had been a wildish man, and led a roughish life;
Didn't he shoot the Bowton Squire, who dared write to his wife?
He beat the Rads at Hindon town, I heard, in 'Twenty-nine,
When every pail in market-place was brimmed with red port wine.
Didn't he shoot the Bowton Squire, who dared write to his wife?
He beat the Rads at Hindon town, I heard, in 'Twenty-nine,
When every pail in market-place was brimmed with red port wine.
And as for hunting, bless your soul! why, for forty year or more
He'd kept the Marley hounds, man, as his fayther did afore;
And now to die, and in his bed—the season just begun—
It made him fret, the doctor said, as 't might do any one.
He'd kept the Marley hounds, man, as his fayther did afore;
And now to die, and in his bed—the season just begun—
It made him fret, the doctor said, as 't might do any one.
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And when the young sharp lawyer came to see him sign his will,
Squire made me blow my horn outside as we was going to kill;
And we turned the hounds out in the court—that seemed to do him good;
For he swore, and sent us off to seek a fox in Thornhill Wood.
Squire made me blow my horn outside as we was going to kill;
And we turned the hounds out in the court—that seemed to do him good;
For he swore, and sent us off to seek a fox in Thornhill Wood.
But then the fever it rose high, and he would go see the room
Where missus died ten years ago when Lammastide shall come:
I mind the year, because our mare at Salisbury broke down;
Moreover the town hall was burnt at Steeple Dinton town.
Where missus died ten years ago when Lammastide shall come:
I mind the year, because our mare at Salisbury broke down;
Moreover the town hall was burnt at Steeple Dinton town.
It might be two, or half-past two, the wind seemed quite asleep;
Tom, he was off, but I awake sat, watch and ward to keep;
The moon was up, quite glorious like, the rain no longer fell,
When all at once out clashed and clanged the rusty turret bell,
Tom, he was off, but I awake sat, watch and ward to keep;
The moon was up, quite glorious like, the rain no longer fell,
When all at once out clashed and clanged the rusty turret bell,
That hadn't been heard for twenty year, not since the Luddite days;
Tom he leapt up, and I leapt up, for all the house ablaze
Had sure not scared us half as much; and out we ran like mad—
I, Tom, and Joe, the whipper-in, and t' little stable lad.
Tom he leapt up, and I leapt up, for all the house ablaze
Had sure not scared us half as much; and out we ran like mad—
I, Tom, and Joe, the whipper-in, and t' little stable lad.
“He's killed hisself,” that's the idea that came into my head;
I felt as sure as though I saw Squire Barrowby was dead;
When all at once a door flew back, and he met us face to face;
His scarlet coat was on his back, and he looked like the old race.
I felt as sure as though I saw Squire Barrowby was dead;
When all at once a door flew back, and he met us face to face;
His scarlet coat was on his back, and he looked like the old race.
The nurse was clinging to his knees, and crying like a child;
The maids were sobbing on the stairs, for he looked fierce and wild:
“Saddle me Lightning Bess, my man,” that's what he said to me;
“The moon is up, we're sure to find at Stop or Etterby.
The maids were sobbing on the stairs, for he looked fierce and wild:
“Saddle me Lightning Bess, my man,” that's what he said to me;
“The moon is up, we're sure to find at Stop or Etterby.
“Get out the hounds; I'm well to-night, and young again and sound;
I'll have a run once more before they put me underground:
They brought my father home feet first, and it never shall be said
That his son Joe, who rode so straight, died quietly in his bed.
I'll have a run once more before they put me underground:
They brought my father home feet first, and it never shall be said
That his son Joe, who rode so straight, died quietly in his bed.
“Brandy!” he cried; “a tumbler-full, you women howling there!”
Then clapped the old black velvet cap upon his long grey hair,
Thrust on his boots, snatched down his whip; though he was old and weak,
There was a devil in his eye, that would not let me speak.
Then clapped the old black velvet cap upon his long grey hair,
Thrust on his boots, snatched down his whip; though he was old and weak,
There was a devil in his eye, that would not let me speak.
We loosed the hounds to humour him, and sounded on the horn;
The moon was up above the woods, just east of Haggard Bourne;
I buckled Lightning's throat-lash fast; the Squire was watching me;
He let the stirrups down himself, so quick, yet carefully.
The moon was up above the woods, just east of Haggard Bourne;
I buckled Lightning's throat-lash fast; the Squire was watching me;
He let the stirrups down himself, so quick, yet carefully.
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Then up he got and spurred the mare, and, ere I well could mount,
He drove the yard gate open, man, and called to old Dick Blount,
Our huntsman, dead five years ago—for the fever rose again,
And was spreading, like a flood of flame, fast up into his brain.
He drove the yard gate open, man, and called to old Dick Blount,
Our huntsman, dead five years ago—for the fever rose again,
And was spreading, like a flood of flame, fast up into his brain.
Then off he flew before the hounds, yelling to call us on,
While we stood there, all pale and dumb, scarce knowing he was gone;
We mounted, and below the hill we saw the fox break out,
And down the covert ride we heard the old Squire's parting shout.
While we stood there, all pale and dumb, scarce knowing he was gone;
We mounted, and below the hill we saw the fox break out,
And down the covert ride we heard the old Squire's parting shout.
And in the moonlit meadow mist we saw him fly the rail
Beyond the hurdles by the beck, just half-way down the vale;
I saw him breast fence after fence—nothing could turn him back;
And in the moonlight after him streamed out the brave old pack.
Beyond the hurdles by the beck, just half-way down the vale;
I saw him breast fence after fence—nothing could turn him back;
And in the moonlight after him streamed out the brave old pack.
'T was like a dream, Tom cried to me, as we rode free and fast;
Hoping to turn him at the brook, that could not well be past,
For it was swollen with the rain; but, Lord! 't was not to be;
Nothing could stop old Lightning Bess but the broad breast of the sea.
Hoping to turn him at the brook, that could not well be past,
For it was swollen with the rain; but, Lord! 't was not to be;
Nothing could stop old Lightning Bess but the broad breast of the sea.
The hounds swept on, and well in front the mare had got her stride;
She broke across the fallow land that runs by the down side;
We pulled up on Chalk Linton Hill, and as we stood us there,
Two fields beyond we saw the Squire fall stone dead from the mare.
She broke across the fallow land that runs by the down side;
We pulled up on Chalk Linton Hill, and as we stood us there,
Two fields beyond we saw the Squire fall stone dead from the mare.
Then she swept on, and, in full cry, the hounds went out of sight;
A cloud came over the broad moon, and something dimmed our sight,
As Tom and I bore master home, both speaking under breath;
And that's the way I saw th' owd Squire ride boldly to his death.
A cloud came over the broad moon, and something dimmed our sight,
As Tom and I bore master home, both speaking under breath;
And that's the way I saw th' owd Squire ride boldly to his death.
| Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs | |