Therefore I say that wrestling, inasmuch as it is a severe trial of strength, temper, and endurance, may be, and ought to be, one of many right and proper ways of rejoicing before God at these feasts. And I say to any man who has strength for it, and can keep his temper, and carries away no vain or proud thoughts if he wins, and no angry or revengeful thoughts if he loses, play by all means. No doubt there are men who ought not to play, who ought to abstain wholly from these games, as some men ought to abstain wholly from drink, who cannot use such things temperately, which is the more worthy and manly way – men so constituted that these sort of games rouse all that is brutal in their natures, others who become braggarts and bullies from success in them. To such men (and each of you can easily find out whether he is such a man) I say abstain wholly.
Having said this, brethren, I must add that great changes should be made in the conduct or management of these games. They should never, on any pretence or plea whatever, be left in the hands of publicans. You should always endeavour to play in sides (as is, I believe, the most common custom) for your county or your parish, and not for yourselves, as you are much more likely in that way to play bravely and fairly. Money prizes should be if possible avoided, for money is the lowest motive for which men can undertake any work or any game. And lastly, every one of you should exercise his whole strength and influence in putting down at once all brutality and bluster and foul play.
As to the rest of the amusements, the visiting shows, the eating and drinking, the dancing and music, I believe them all in themselves to be lawful and right in the sight of God, and fit things to do when we are rejoicing before Him. But, my brethren, I do not think them lawful and right, or fit things to be done before anybody but the devil, when they end in such scenes as, I fear – as I know – they often do end in at our feasts. No wonder that the feasts are falling off year by year; that they cease to interest decent and respectable people who used to care about them, when they are deliberately turned by some into scenes of drunkenness and profligacy, which can scarcely be surpassed amongst savages and heathens.
I need not dwell on this, for you all know well enough what I mean. You all know, too – the voice within you tells each of you plainly enough – the moment you are going beyond the proper limits in these matters. It is no use to lay down rules on such subjects. Every man and every woman must be a law to themselves. One can do safely what would ruin another. And here again I say, as I said before, the use of these things is right and good, and what God approves of, who in his infinite love has given us the power of enjoying all these things, and the things themselves to enjoy – music, and dancing, and pleasant company, and food and drink. The abuse of them is of the devil, and destroys body and soul.
I beseech you all to think of what I have said, and endeavour, each in your own way, to retain, or to bring back, if necessary, God’s feasts into your own parishes. You, old and grown-up men and women, by living soberly and righteously; never making mischief, or quarrelling; treating your children with forbearance and love, doing your own work, and helping others to do theirs. To you young men, I say, as Solomon said, rejoice in your youth; rejoice in your strength of body, and elasticity of spirits, and the courage which follows from these; but remember that for these gifts you will be judged – not condemned, mind, but judged. You will have to show before a Judge who knoweth your inmost hearts, that you have used these his great gifts well; that you have been pure, and manly, and true.
And to you, young women, I can but say the same. Beauty, and purity, and youth, and merry light hearts, and all the numberless attractions which have been poured upon you, are tremendous influences for good or evil, – gifts for which you will have to give an account. Rejoice in them; use them freely; but avoid, as you would death itself, all rivalry with one another, all attempts to exercise power over men you do not care for, every light thought, and word, and look. For the light word or look is but a step from the impure, and the experience of the whole world is telling you
“How mirth can into folly glide,
And folly into sin.”
But now to conclude. You may ask, how are we all to keep these things in mind? how, when we are all met together to enjoy ourselves, can we be ever on the watch for this evil, which you say is so near us? You cannot, my brethren; but One is with you, is in you, who can and will, if you will let him.
Men found this out in the old time, and have felt it and known it ever since. Three thousand years ago this truth dawned upon the old Psalmist, and struck him with awe. He struggled with it; he tried to escape from it, but in vain. “Whither shall I go then,” he says, “from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee then from thy presence? If I go up to heaven, Thou art there: if I go down to hell, Thou art there also. If I take the wings of the morning, and reside in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there also shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.”
Is any of us stronger or wiser than the Psalmist? Is there any place for us to flee to, which was not open to him? My brethren, had we not better make up our minds to accept and acknowledge the truth, to which our own consciences bear witness; that, not only in heaven, and in hell, and in the uttermost parts of sea and earth, He is present, but that in the inmost recesses of our own hearts there is no escape from his Spirit – that He is there also, sustaining us, pleading with us, punishing us.
We know it by the regret we feel for time wasted and opportunities neglected; by the loathing coming back to us, time after time, for our every untrue or mean thought, word, or deed; by every longing after truth, and righteousness, and purity, which stirs our sluggish souls. By all these things, and in a thousand other ways, we feel it, we know it.
Let us, then, come to our feasts owning this, and giving ourselves up to his guidance. At first it will be hard work; our will and spirits will be like a lump of ice in a man’s hand, which yields but slowly to the warm pressure. But do not despair; throw yourselves on his guidance, and he will guide you, he will hide you under his wings, you shall be safe under his feathers, his faithfulness and truth shall be your shield and buckler.
The ice will melt into water, and the water will lie there in the hollow of the hand, moving at the slightest motion, obeying every impulse which is given to it.
My brethren, the Spirit of God which is in every one of us – the Spirit of truth and love unchangeable – will take possession of our spirits, if we will but let him, and turn not only our feasts into feasts of the Lord, but our whole lives into the lives of children of God, and joint-heirs of heaven with his Son.
APPENDIX
Note I
The earliest authentic historical notices of the White Horse are, so far as I am aware, —
1st. A Cartulary of the Abbey of Abingdon, now in the British Museum, of the time of Henry II., the exact date of it being, it is believed, A.D. 1171. It runs as follows: “Consuetudinis apud Anglos tunc erat, ut monachi qui vellent pecuniarum patrimoniorum qui forent susceptibiles, ipsisque fruentes quomodo placeret dispensarent. Unde et in Abbendonia duo, Leofricus et Godricus Cild appellati, quorum unus Godricus, Spersholt juxta locum qui vulgo mons Albi Equi nuncupatur, alter Leofricus Hwitceorce super flumen Tamisie maneria sita patrimoniali jure obtinebant,” &c.
2dly. Another Cartulary of the same Abbey, of the reign of Richard I., which runs as follows: “Prope montem ubi ad Album Equum scanditur, ab antiquo tempore Ecclesia ista manerium Offentum appellatum in dominio possidet, juxta quod villa X hidarum adjacet ex jure Ecclesiæ quam Speresholt nominavit,” &c.
3dly. An entry on the Close Rolls, 42 Ed. III., or A.D. 1368-9: – “Gerard de l’Isle tient en la vale de White Horse one fee,” &c. See Archæologia, vol. xxxi. p. 290. Letter from William Thoms, Esq. to J. Y. Ackerman, Esq., Secretary.
Coming down to comparatively modern times, it is curious that so little notice should have been taken of the White Horse by our antiquaries. Wise, in his Letter to Dr. Mead (1738), which has been already quoted from in the text, regrets this, and then adds: “Leland’s journey does not seem to have carried him this way, nor does Camden here go out of the other’s track; though he mentions, upon another occasion, and by the bye, The White Horse; but in such a manner, that I could wish, for his own sake, he had passed it over in silence with the rest. For his own account is altogether so unbecoming so faithful and accurate an author, insinuating to his readers that it has no existence but in the imagination of country people. ‘The Thames,’ says he, ‘falls into a valley, which they call The Vale of White Horse, from I know not what shape of a Horse fancied on the side of a whitish Hill.’ Much nearer to the truth is Mr. Aubrey, however wide of the mark, who, in the additions to the Britannia, says: ‘I leave others to determine, whether the White Horse on the Hill was made by Hengist, since the Horse was the arms or figure in Hengist’s standard.’ The author of a ‘Tour through England,’ is a little more particular, though he leaves us as much in the dark about the antiquity and design of it. ‘Between this town of Marlborow and Abingdon, is the Vale of White Horse. The inhabitants tell a great many fabulous stories of the original of its name; but there is nothing of foundation in them, that I could find. The whole of the story is this: Looking south from the Vale, we see a trench cut on the side of a high, green hill, in the shape of a horse, and not ill-shaped neither; the trench is about a yard deep, and filled almost up with chalk, so that at a distance you see the exact shape of a White Horse, but so large, as to take up near an acre of ground, some say almost two acres. From this figure, the Hill is called in our maps, White Horse Hill, and the low or flat country under it the Vale of White Horse.’ (See pp. 30, 31.)
Note II
Medeshamstede, however, was restored with great splendour in the year 963. The account in the Saxon Chronicle is so illustrative of what was going on in England at the time, that I think I may be allowed to give it, especially as the restoration was the work of a Vale of White Horse man, Ethelwold, Abbot of Abingdon, who was in this year made Bishop of Winchester.
Edgar was king, and Dunstan Archbishop of Canterbury – Ethelwold, after strong measures at Winchester, (where “he drove the clerks out of the bishopric because they would not observe any rule, and he set the monks there,”) “went to the king and begged of him that he would give him all the minsters which heathen men had of old time broken down, because he would restore them; and the king joyfully granted it.” Then he restored Ely, and “after that came Bishop Ethelwold to the minster which was called Medeshamstede, which of old time had been destroyed by heathen men. He found nothing there but old walls and wild woods. There found he hidden in the old walls writings that Abbot Hudda had erewhile written, how king Wulfhere and Ethelred his brother had built it, and how they had freed it against king and against bishop, and against all secular service, and how the pope Agatho had confirmed the same by his rescript, and the archbishop ‘deo dedit.’ Then caused he the minster to be built, and set there an abbot who was called Adulf, and caused monks to be there where before was nothing. Then came he to the king and caused him to look at the writings which before were found, and the king answered then and said, I, Edgar, grant and give to-day before God and before the Archbishop Dunstan, freedom to St. Peter’s minster, from king and from bishop, and all the villages that lie thereto, that is to say, Eastfield, and Dodthorp, and Eye, and Paxton. And thus I free it, that no bishop have there any command without the abbot of the minster. And I give the town which is called Oundle, with all which thereto lieth, that is to say, that which is called ‘the eight hundreds,’ and market and toll so freely that neither king, nor bishop, nor earl, nor sheriff have there any command, nor any man except the Abbot alone and him whom he thereto appointeth” – and after giving other lands to Christ and St. Peter through the prayer of Bishop Ethelwold, “with sack and sock, toll and team, and infangthief,” and willing “that a market be in the same town, and no other be between Stamford and Huntingdon,” the king ends: “And I will that all liberties and all the remissions that my predecessors have given, that they stand, and I sign and confirm it with Christ’s rood token. ✠” “Then Dunstan the Archbishop of Canterbury answered and said, I grant that all the things which are here given and spoken of, and all the things which thy predecessors and mine have conceded, those will I that they stand; and whosoever this breaketh, then give I him the curse of God, and of all saints, and of all ordained heads, and of myself, unless he come to repentance. And I give in acknowledgment to St. Peter my mass-hackel, and my stole, and my reef, for the service of Christ.” “I, Oswald, Archbishop of York, assent to all these words, by the holy rood which Christ suffered on. ✠” “I, Ethelwold, bless all who shall observe this, and I excommunicate all who shall break this, unless he come to repentance.” So the minster at Medeshamstede was set up again under Adulf, who bought lands and greatly enriched it, till Oswald died, and he was chosen Archbishop of York, and was succeeded as abbot by Kenulph, who “first made the wall about the minster; then gave he that to name Peterborough which was before called Medeshamstede.” —Saxon Chronicle A.D. 963.
Note III
SITE OF THE BATTLE OF ASHDOWN
There are four spots in Berkshire which claim the honour of being the Œscendun of the chroniclers, where Æthelred and Alfred gained their great victory; they are Ilsley, Ashamstead, Aston in the parish of Bluberry, and Ashdown, close to White Horse Hill. Now it seems clear that Ashdown was, in Saxon times, the name of a district stretching over a considerable portion of the Berkshire chalk range, and it is quite possible that all of the above sites may have been included in that district; therefore, I do not insist much upon the name, though whatever weight is to be attached to it, must tell in favour of the latter site, that of Ashdown. Let us, however, consider the other qualifications of the rival sites.
That of Ilsley is supported, so far as I know, only by Hewitt in his antiquities of the Hundred of Compton (1844); and his argument rests chiefly on the fitness of the ground for the scene of a great battle. He tells us that the detachments of three Waterloo regiments, marching through Ilsley in 1816, when they came to the spot, stopped and called out, “Waterloo! Waterloo!” to one another. He also states that the name Ilsley is, in fact, “Hilde læg,” the field of battle; but as he has no tradition in his favour, and cannot, so far as I know, point to any remains in the neighbourhood in support of his theory, I think his case must fail, and only mention it to show that I have not overlooked the claim.
Ashamstead, situate five miles to the southeast of Ilsley, is named by the Lysons in their topographical account of Berkshire as the probable site of the battle, but they give no reasons, and are unsupported by tradition or remains.
Aston has a stronger case. It is situate between Wallingford and Ilsley. The range of chalk hills rises just above it, and one detached hill is here thrown out into the vale, on which are still visible considerable earthworks. There is a chapel called Thorn Chapel on the eastern slope of this hill, and I am told there is a tradition that this chapel was built on the spot where some Saxon king heard mass on the morning of a battle. It is suggested by Mr. Lousley and others, that the Saxons occupied this outlying hill, the Danes the opposite range; and that the battle was fought in the valley between, where, when the road was recently altered, a number of bones were found, apparently thrown in together without care, as would be the case after a battle. There are, however, no regular barrows or other remains. Bishop Gibson is in favour of this spot, on account, as it would seem, of a passage in the Saxon Chronicle for the year 1006, which runs as follows: “They” (the Danes) “destroyed Wallingford, and passed a night at Cholsey.” Then they “turned along Ashdown to Cwichelmes Low.”
The bishop says, that Cwichelmes Low (the low or hill of King Cwichelm, who reigned in these parts, and died in the year 636 A.D.) is Cuckhamsley Hill, or Scuchamore Knob, as it is generally called; a high hill in the same chalk range, about ten miles east of White Horse Hill; and he argues that, as the Danes went from Wallingford, by Ashdown, to Cwichelmes Low, we must look for Ashdown between Wallingford and Cuckhamsley Hill. Now Aston lies directly between the two, therefore Aston is Ashdown, and the site of the battle. But the place now called Ashdown is on the further side of Cuckhamsley Hill from Wallingford – therefore the Danes could not have passed it in getting from Wallingford to Cuckhamsley Hill – therefore the modern Ashdown cannot be the site of the battle.
To this I answer, First, the Bishop assumes that Cwichelmes Low is Cuckhamsley Hill, without giving any reason.
Secondly, assuming Cwichelmes Low and Cuckhamsley Hill to be identical; yet, as Ashdown was clearly a large tract of country, the Danes might go from Wallingford, along a part of it, to Cwichelmes Low without passing the battle-field.
Thirdly, the name Aston is written “Estone” in Domesday Book; meaning “East town,” or enclosure, and not “Mons fraxini,” the “Hill of the Ash-tree.”
Fourthly, Æthelred and Alfred would have kept to the hills in their retreat, and never have allowed the Danes to push them out into the Thames-valley, where the Pagan cavalry would have been invaluable; but this must have been the case, if we suppose Aston to be the site of the battle. Lastly, all the above sites are too near to Reading, the farthest being only sixteen miles from that town. But Æthelred and Alfred had been retreating three days, and would therefore much more probably be found at Ashdown by White Horse Hill, which is ten miles farther along the range of hills.
Ashdown, the remaining site, and the one which I believe to be the true one, is the down which surrounds White Horse Hill, in the parish of Uffington. On the highest point of the hill, which is 893 feet above the level of the sea, stands Uffington Castle, a plain of more than eight acres in extent, surrounded by earthworks, and a single deep ditch, which Camden, and other high authorities, say are Danish.
There is another camp, with earthworks, called Hardwell Camp, about a mile W.N.W. of Uffington Castle, and a third smaller circular camp, called King Alfred’s camp, about a mile to the S.W., which may still be made out, close to the wall of Ashdown Park, Lord Craven’s seat, although Aubrey says, that in his time the works were “almost quite defaced, by digging for the Sarsden stones to build my Lord Craven’s house in the Park.” Wise suggests that the Danes held Uffington Castle; that Æthelred was in Hardwell-camp, and Alfred in Alfred’s camp. A mile and a half to the eastward, in which direction the battle must have rolled, as the Saxons slowly gained the day, is a place called the Seven Barrows, where are seven circular burial-mounds, and several other large irregularly-shaped mounds, full of bones; the light soil which covers the chalk is actually black around them. The site agrees in all points with the description in the chroniclers; it is the proper distance from Reading; the name is the one used by the chroniclers, – “Ash-down,” “Mons Fraxini,” “Æscendun;” it is likely that Æthelred would have fought somewhere hereabouts to protect Wantage, a royal burg, and his birthplace, which would have been otherwise at the mercy of the enemy; and lastly, there – and not at Cuckhamsley Hill, or elsewhere – is carved the White Horse, which has been from time immemorial held to be a monument of the great victory of Ashdown. For the above reasons, I think we are justified in claiming this as the site of the battle.
Note IV
WAYLAND SMITH’S CAVE
Wise (see p. 35) says he thinks he has discovered the place of burial of King Basreg, Bagseeg (or whatever his name might be, for it is given in seven or eight different ways in the chroniclers), in Wayland Smith’s cave, which place he describes as follows: —
“The place is distinguished by a parcel of stones set on edge, and enclosing a piece of ground raised a few feet above the common level, which every one knows was the custom of the Danes, as well as of some other northern nations. And Wormius observes, that if any Danish chief was slain in a foreign country, they took care to bury him as pompously as if he had died in his own. Mr. Aubrey’s account of it is this: ‘About a mile [or less] from the Hill [White Horse Hill] there are a great many large stones, which, though very confused, must yet be laid there on purpose. Some of them are placed edgewise, but the rest are so disorderly that one would imagine they were tumbled out of a cart.’ The disorder which Mr. Aubrey speaks of is occasioned by the people having thrown down some of the stones (for they all seem originally to have been set on edge), and broken them to pieces to mend their highways. Those that are left enclose a piece of ground of an irregular figure at present, but which formerly might have been an oblong square, extending only north and south.
“On the east side of the southern extremity stand three squarish flat stones of about four or five feet over each way, set on edge, and supporting a fourth of much larger dimensions, lying flat upon them. These altogether form a cavern or sheltering-place, resembling pretty exactly those described by Wormius, Bartholine, and others, except in the dimensions of the stones; for whereas this may shelter only ten or a dozen sheep from a storm, Wormius mentions one in Denmark that would shelter a hundred.
“I know of no other monument of this sort in England; but in Wales and the Isle of Anglesey there are several not unlike it, called by the natives Cromlechs. The Isle of Anglesey having been the chief seat of the Druids, induced its learned antiquary to ascribe them to the ancient Britons; an assertion that I will not take upon me to contradict, but shall only at this time observe, that I find sufficient authorities to convince me that ours must be Danish.
“Whether this remarkable piece of antiquity ever bore the name of the person here buried is not now to be learned, the true meaning of it being long since lost in ignorance and fable. All the account which the country people are able to give of it is, ‘At this place lived formerly an invisible smith; and if a traveller’s horse had lost a shoe upon the road, he had no more to do than to bring the horse to this place, with a piece of money, and leaving both there for some little time, he might come again and find the money gone, but the horse new shod.’ The stones standing upon the Rudgeway, as it is called (which was the situation that they chose for burial monuments), I suppose gave occasion to the whole being called Wayland Smith, which is the name it was always known by to the country people.
“An English antiquary might find business enough who should attempt to unriddle all the fabulous traditions of the vulgar, which ascribe these works of unknown antiquity to demons and invisible powers.
“Leaving, therefore, the story of the invisible smith to be discussed by those who have more leisure, I only remark, that these stones are, according to the best Danish antiquaries, a burial altar; that their being raised in the midst of a plain field, near the great road, seems to indicate some person there slain and buried, and that this person was probably a chief or king; there being no monument of this sort near that place, perhaps not in England, beside.” (See pp. 35, 36, 37.)
I have given Wise’s statement of his own case, but the better opinion amongst antiquaries seems to be that he is wrong, and that the cromlech, called Wayland Smith’s Cave, is of much earlier date than 871 A.D.
I insert here the note from Kenilworth (note B, p. 218) in which Sir Walter Scott mentions Wayland Smith’s Cave: —
“The great defeat given by Alfred to the Danish invaders, is said by Mr. Gough to have taken place near Ashdown in Berkshire. The burial-place of Bœreg, the Danish chief who was slain in this fight, is distinguished by a parcel of stones, less than a mile from the hill, set on edge, enclosing a piece of ground somewhat raised. On the east side of the southern extremity, stand three squarish flat stones, of about four or five feet over either way, supporting a fourth, and now called by the vulgar Wayland Smith, from an idle tradition about an invisible smith replacing lost horseshoes there.” (Gough’s edition of Camden’s Britannica. Vol. I. p. 221.)
“The popular belief still retains memory of this wild legend, which, connected as it is with the site of a Danish sepulchre, may have arisen from some legend concerning the northern Duergar, who resided in the rocks, and were cunning workers in steel and iron. It was believed that Wayland Smith’s fee was sixpence, and that, unlike other workmen, he was offended if more was offered. Of late his offices have been again called to memory; but fiction has in this, as in other cases, taken the liberty to pillage the stores of oral tradition. This monument must be very ancient, for it has been kindly pointed out to me that it is referred to in an ancient Saxon charter as a landmark. The monument has been of late cleared out, and made considerably more conspicuous.”
It will be seen from this that Sir Walter assumes the view of Wise to be correct, but he never saw the place.
Note V
As an illustration of one of the methods by which traditions are kept up in the country, I insert some verses written by Job Cork, an Uffington man of two generations back, who was a shepherd on White Horse Hill for fifty years.
“It was early one summer’s morn,
The weather fine and very warm,
A stranger to White Horse Hill did go
To view the plains and fields below.
“As he along the hill did ride,
Taking a view on every side,
The which he did so much enjoy
Till a shepherd’s dog did him annoy.
“At length an aged man appeared,
A watching of his fleecy herd,
With threadbare coat and downcast eye,
To which the stranger did draw nigh.
“‘O noble shepherd, can you tell
How long you kept sheep on this hill?’
‘Zeven yeur in Zundays I have been
A shepherd on this hill so green.’
“‘That is a long time, I must own,
You have kept sheep upon this down;
I think that you must have been told
Of things that have been done of old.’
“‘Ah, Zur, I can remember well
The stories the old voke do tell —
Upon this hill which here is seen
Many a battle there have been.
“‘If it is true as I heard zay,
King Gaarge did here the dragon slay,
And down below on yonder hill
They buried him as I heard tell.
“‘If you along the Rudgeway go,
About a mile for aught I know,
There Wayland’s Cave then you may see
Surrounded by a group of trees.
“‘They say that in this cave did dwell
A smith that was invisible;
At last he was found out, they say,
He blew up the place and vlod away.
“‘To Devonshire then he did go,
Full of sorrow, grief, and woe,
Never to return again,
So here I’ll add the shepherd’s name —
“Job Cork.’”
There is no merit in the lines beyond quaintness; but they are written in the sort of jingle which the poor remember; they have lived for fifty years and more, and will probably, in quiet corners of the Vale, outlive the productions of much more celebrated versemakers than Job Cork, though probably they were never reduced into writing until written out at my request.
Job Cork was a village humorist, and stories are still told of his sayings, some of which have a good deal of fun in them; I give one example in the exact words in which it was told to me: —
“One night as Job Cork came off the downs, drough-wet to his very skin, it happened his wife had been a baking. So, when he went to bed, his wife took his leather breeches, and put ’em in the oven to dry ’em. When he woke in the morning he began to feel about for his thengs, and he called out, and zed, ‘Betty, where be mee thengs?’ ‘In the oven,’ zed his wife. Zo he looked in the oven and found his leather breeches all cockled up together like a piece of parchment, and he bawled out, ‘O Lard! O Lard! what be I to do? Was ever man plagued as I be?’ ‘Patience, Job, patience, Job,’ zed his wife; ‘remember thy old namesake, how he was plagued.’ ‘Ah!’ zed the old man, ‘’a was plagued surely; but his wife never baked his breeches.’”
Other shepherds of the Hill have been poets in a rough sort of way. I add one of their home-made songs, as I am anxious to uphold the credit of my countrymen as a tuneful race.
“Come, all you shepherds as minds for to be,
You must have a gallant heart,
You must not be down-hearted,
You must a-bear the smart;
You must a-bear the smart, my boys,
Let it hail or rain or snow,
For there is no ale to be had on the Hill
Where the wintry wind doth blow.
“When I kept sheep on White Horse Hill
My heart began to ache,
My old ewes all hung down their heads,
And my lambs began to bleat.
Then I cheered up with courage bold,
And over the Hill did go,
For there is no ale to be had on the Hill
When the wintry wind doth blow.
“I drive my sheep into the fold,
To keep them safe all night,
For drinking of good ale, my boys,
It is my heart’s delight.
I drove my sheep into the fold,
And homeward I did go,
For there is no ale to be had on the Hill
When the wintry wind doth blow.
“We shepherds are the liveliest lads
As ever trod English ground,
If we drops into an ale-house
We values not a crownd.
We values not a crownd, my boys,
We’ll pay before we go,
For there is no ale to be had on the Hill
When the wintry wind doth blow.”