Our thanks to Dick Bolt of Bowie, MD, USA (half way between Washington
, DC & Annapolis, MD), who works for
NASA, for the words of a song about the Goosey Fair. He believes it
was written in the early 1920s for a pantomime in
Plymouth:
Tis
just a month come Friday next, Bill Champerdown and me,
Us traipsed across old Darty Moor the Goosey Fair to see,
Us made ourselves quite fiddy, us greased and oiled our hair,
Then off us goes in our Sunday clothes behind old Bill's grey mare.
Us smelled thic sage and onion 'alf a mile from Whitchurch Down,
And didn't us 'ave a blow out when us come into the town,
And there us met Ned Hannoford, Jan Steer and Nicky Square,
And it seemed to we all Devon must be to Tavistock Goosey Fair,
Chorus:
And its oh, and where be a-going,
And what be a-doing of there,
Heave down your prong and stamp along,
To Tavistock Goosey Fair.
Us went to see the 'osses and the 'effers and the yaws,
Us went on all them roundabouts and into all the shows,
And then it started raining and blowing in our face,
So off us goes down to the Rose to 'ave a dish of tay.
And then us had a sing song and the folks kept dropping in,
And what with one an' t'other, well, us had a drop of gin,
And what with one an' t'other, us didn't seem to care,
Whether us was to Bellever Tor or Tavistock Goosey Fair.
'Twere raining streams and dark as pitch when us trotted 'ome that night,
An' when us got past Merrivale Bridge, our mare, 'er took a fright,
Says I to Bill, "Be careful, you'll 'ave us in them drains,"
Says 'e to me, "Cor bugger," says 'e, "why 'aven't you got the reins,"
Just then the mare ran slap against a whacking gurt big stone,
'Er kicked the trap to flibbits and 'er trotted off alone,
And when it come to reckoning, 'tweren't no use standing there,
Us 'ad to traipse 'ome thirteen mile from Tavistock Goosey Fair.
Dick Bolt [email protected]