Lyric Help? The Eskdale Hermit

[Robert Derrick]

This is a song that I have loved for years, but a few of the words
in Vin Garbutt's inimitable Northumbrian accent are immpossible to
decipher. Anbody out there know this song, what the real title is,
and what belongs in the numerous [ ]'s I have liberally placed
throughout the work?

--

The Eskdale Hermit, or The Heir to Percy's Hall, or ?...
as performed by Vin Garbutt

Twas in and about the May Day time when the white flowers sweetly lie
When the primrose [ ] and the [ ] cups and the larks [ ] the sky

That Percy, ?deBruce?, the [ ] son, [ ]
From their proud mountain homes went forth to spend a hunting day

And they have left fair ?Killdale's? halls, Skelton's castle fair
The stately walls of Gisborough, to seek the wild boar's lair

They lighted nigh on Eskdaleside upon the fen so brown
They lighted where the wild boar lay, the dread of ?Whittenby? town

The boar, the boar, the brindled boar, Lord Percy loud did cry
Let a silver dirk to him who's pierced the boar of Eskdaleside

And in that ancient forest's green beside the gnarled oak
The hermit meek of Eskdaleside, his lone communings took

Twas there the boar, all red with gore burst into ?open? stead
Wounded and torn, it staggered on, and fell before him dead

Back to your home, proud Percy back, [ ] footsteps trace
"Herbert deBruce" how dare you thus pollute the sacred place

Thou shaven priest how dare you halt the heir to Percy's hall
How dare you stop my [ ] hounds, and keep my prey in thrall

Then pierced him with his good broad sword that [ ] so sharply honed
He smote the hermit on the brow into a deathly wound

[ ] [ ] [ ] horrid outrage spread
That the holy monk of Eskdaleside of his wounds was nigh well dead

So [ ] the abbot did command the youths of Eskdaleside
[ ] by my holy mother church, what may this deed betide

What e're this pious hermit asks your punishment shall be
E'en by my soul, though he should ask your doom o'the gallows tree

Alas my lord, the hermit cried, revenge is not of mine
To extend our holy church's bound is a nobler aim [ ] thine

I charge these youths on the [ ] eve, a penance for their crime
[ ] in the forest take, and at early morning time

To raise up [ ] yellow shore a hedge that still must stand
Sea tides nor oceans' mighty wave shall wash it from the sand

The hunting horn that from this day their deed of shame shall sound
And all their heirs this tribute give 'til times' remotest bound

His eyes grew dim, his voice voice grew faint, farewell thou smiling shores
Sweet Esk', my Esk', I look at thee well, one cry and all is o'er

rob derrick

[Robert Derrick]

Our newsfeeder had trouble last week, and I am told that a lot
of posts did not get out, so I am reposting this. So if you are
seeing it for the second time, my apoligies...

--

[popya...@gmail.com]

Twas in and about the May Day time when the white flowers sweetly lie

When the primrose [ ] and the [green ] copse and the larks [salute] the sky

That Piercy, Bruce, and [ Allatson ] and Herberts light and Gay

From their proud mountain homes went forth to spend a hunting day

And they have left fair ?Kildaire's? halls, Skelton's castle fair

The stately walls of Gisborough, to seek the wild boar's lair

Theve lighted nigh on Eskdaleside upon the fen so brown

They lighted where the wild boar lay, the dread of ?Whittenby? town

The boar, the boar, the brindled boar, Lord Piercy loudly cried
theres a silver dirk to him who's spears the boar of Eskdaleside

And in that ancient forest green beside the gnarled oak

The hermit meek of Eskdaleside, his lone communings took

Twas there the boar, all red with gore burst into through open stead

Wounded and torn, it staggered on, and fell before him dead

Back to your home, proud Piercy back, where hence your footsteps trace/place ?

"Herbert deBruce" how dare you thus pollute the sacred place

Thou shaven priest how dare you halt the heir to Piercy's hall
How dare you stop my [fleet ] stag hounds, and keep my prey in thrall

Then piercy him with his good broad sword that [good ] so sharply honed

He smote the hermit on the brow into a deathly wound

[ ] [ ] [ ] horrid outrage spread
That the holy monk of Eskdaleside of his wounds was nigh well dead

quickly the abbot did command the youths of Eskdaleside
you bide my holy mother church, what may this deed betide

What e're this pious hermit asks your punishment shall be
E'en by my soul, though he should ask your doom o'the gallows tree

Alas my lord, the hermit cried, revenge is not of mine

To extend our holy church's bound is a nobler aim [ of ] thine

I charge these youths on the [ on ascension ] eve, in penance for their crime
[ of twigs within ] this forest take, and at early morning time

To raise up [ with ] these ? yellow shore a hedge that still must stand