535. A Dalesman's Litany (Moorman / Keddie) - Dave Ellis

F W Moorman was the president of the Yorkshire Dialect Society in about 1900. He wrote, or possibly collected, this song which was published in "Songs of the Ridings". It makes use of an old Yorkshire Proverb: "From Hull, Halifax, and Hell, good Lord deliver us". (Hull and Halifax were the last places in Yorkshire to have a gibbet.) It can also be found in Roy Palmer's "Touch On The Times: Songs of Social Change 1770 to 1914" (Penguin, 1974, pp. 71-72), with minor differences and with the tune, which was written by Dave Keddie of Bradford (English Folk Dance and Song Society) in about 1960.) It has been recorded by Tim Hart and Maddy Prior, among others. And here it is performed by Dave Ellis at a session of the Hong Kong Folk Society at The Canny Man in Wanchai. Lyrics: It's hard when folks can't find their work Where they've been bred and born. When I was young I always thought I'd bide among fruits and corn, But I've been forced to work in towns So here's my litany. From Hull and Halifax and Hell Good Lord deliver me. When I was courting Mary Jane The old Squire he said one day "I've no room here for wedded folks. Choose whether to wed or stay." Well I couldn't give up the lass that I loved So to town we had to flee. From Hull and Halifax and Hell Good Lord deliver me. I've worked in Leeds and Huddersfield And addled honest brass. At Bradford, Keighley, Rotherham I've kept m'bairns and m'lass. I've travelled all three Ridings round And once I went to sea. From Hull and Halifax and Hell Good Lord deliver me. I've walked at night thru Sheffield lanes - T'was the same as being in Hell - Where furnaces thrust out tongues of fire And roared like the wind on the fell, And I've shovelled coals in the Barnsley pits With muck up to m'knee. From Hull and Halifax and Hell Good Lord deliver me. I've seen fog creeping across Leeds brig As thick as Bastille soup. I've lived where folks were stowed away Like rabbits in a coop, And I've seen snow float down Bradford Beck As black as ebony. From Hull and Halifax and Hell Good Lord deliver me. Well now our children are all fled To the country we've come back. There's forty miles of heathery moor 'Twixt us and the coal pits slack, And as I sit by the fire at night I laugh and shout with glee: From Hull and Halifax and Hell Good Lord deliver me.