1
It’s hard when folks can’t find their work where they’ve been bred and born;
When I was young I always thowt I’d bide amang rooits and corn. (rooits = roots)
But I’ve been forced to work in towns so here’s my litany,
From Hull and Halifax and Hell, good Lord deliver me.
2
When I was courtin’ Mary Jane t’ old squire he says one day,
"I’ve got no room for wedded folk so wilt ta wed or stay?"
Well I couldn’t leave the lass I loved so to town we had to flee,
From Hull and Halifax and Hell, good Lord deliver me.
3
I’ve worked in Leeds and Huddersfield, I’ve addled honest brass,
At Bradford, Keighley, Rotherham, I’ve kept me bairns and lass;
I’ve travelled all three ridin’s round and once I went to sea.
From forges, mills and coalin’ boats, good Lord deliver me.
4
I’ve walked at neet down Sheffield lanes, ’t was the same as bein’ in Hell;
Furnaces thrust out tongues of fire that roared like wind on t’ fell;
I’ve sammed up coil in Barnsley pits wi’ muck upto me knees. (sammed up = picked up)
From Sheffield, Barnsley, Rotherham, good Lord deliver me.
5
I’ve seen grey fog creep ovver Leeds Brig as thick as Bastille soup;
I’ve lived where folks have been stowed away like rabbits in a coop;
I’ve seen snow float down Bradford Beck as black as ebony.
From Hunslet, Holbeck, Wibsey Slack, good Lord deliver me.
6
Well now when all our children have flown, to the country we’ve come back;
There’s forty miles of heathery moor ’twixt us and coilpit stack;
And often as I sit by the fire at neet I laugh and I shout with glee,
From Hull and Halifax and Hell, good Lord deliver me.
This is a contemporary song about Yorkshire.
Perhaps some incongruity here in the borrowing from The Beggar’s Litany:
‘From Hull, Hell and Halifax, good Lord deliver us.’
Hull is far from the dales and has no reputation for the heavy industry described in the song although as a large seaport its collier brigs did help to transport the coal.
The theory that, ‘Hell and’ is ‘Elland’ to the south of Halifax has no grounds whatsoever. The Beggar’s Litany is very old and dates back at least to c1600 when coiners and criminals who doctored the king’s coins were common in both Hull and Halifax and were severely dealt with. In Hull they were hung but Halifax had its own gibbet, a forerunner of the French guillotine. The local authorities of the time gave the wronged party the chance to cut the rope to behead the wrongdoer. If they declined the offer any stolen goods were forfeit and the prisoner was freed. The severity of the local justice in both places led to the above saying among vagrants and beggars.
The saying appeared in 1682 as part of A Litany for St Omer’s, a political ballad of the Whigs, against the Tories. In this ‘Hallifax’ actually referred to Henry Savile, the younger brother of George Savile, First Marquess of Halifax, who was also Baron Savile of Eland and a staunch anti-Catholic. (See Roxburghe Ballads Vol 5, p189-196)
The Dalesman’s Litany, written about 1900, is probably the best known of Frederick William Moorman’s poems, having been set to music c1960 by the late Dave Keddie of Bradford, of the folk group The Dalesmen, and sung in the folk clubs by Yorkshire folk singers, Dave Burland, Jim Potter, Bill Sowerby and here Ray Padgett. It neatly sums up the poverty and grind of the gradual migration from countryside to town in the industrial revolution that made such a deep impression on the West Riding.
F W Moorman 1872-1919 was professor of English Language at the University of Leeds. This is the first song in his book Songs of the Ridings 1918, which has been placed online as part of the Gutenberg project by Dave Fawthrop of Halifax. (See etext of Songs of the Ridings at www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext02/rdngs10h.htm) Dave has also placed online an etext of Moorman’s Yorkshire Dialect Poems (1673-1915) and Traditional Poems, Published for the Yorkshire Dialect Society by Sidgwick and Jackson, Ltd., 1916. (See www.hyphenologist.co.uk/songs/ )
In 1991 Life in a Liberty Bodice, Random Recollections of a Yorkshire Childhood was written by Christabel Burniston and published by Highgate Publications (Beverley) Ltd. In chapters four and twelve she recounts how her father, Alfred Hyde, was a close friend of Dr Moorman, and how they spent their holidays at Dr Moorman’s cottage in Wharfedale. For economic reasons Hyde had had to leave his family and their farm on the Yorkshire Wolds and go to work in Leeds where he met Dr Moorman. She states on Page 57 of the book that her father was partly the inspiration for this litany; certainly the first stanza describes his predicament in a nutshell. (We are indebted to Richard and Jean Wastling of Hull for this information on Christabel Burniston’s book.) For another of Moorman’s songs Lord George sung by Richard Wastling see TYG11.