Rise up the master of this house, put on your chain of gold,
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay;
We hope you're not offended, (with) your house we make so bold,
Drawing near unto the merry month of May.
Rise up the mistress of this house, with gold along (upon) your breast,
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay;
And if your body be asleep, I hope your soul's at rest,
Drawing near unto the merry month of May.
Rise up the children of this house, all in your rich attire
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay;
For every hair upon your head shines like the silver wire,
Drawing near unto the merry month of May.
God bless this house and harbour, your riches and your store,
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay;
We hope the Lord will prosper you, both now and evermore,
Drawing near unto the merry month of May.
So now we're going to leave you in peace and plenty here,
For the summer springs so fresh, green, and gay;
We shall not sing you May again until another year,—
For to draw you the cold winter away.
About a mile on the road, I came to a green dingle, called "Gamershaw." A large brick dwelling-house now occupies the spot; which was formerly shaded by spreading trees,—a flaysome nook, of which the country folk were afraid at night-time, as the haunt of a goblin, called "Gamershaw Boggart." Every rustle of the trees at Gamershaw was big with terror to them half a century ago. Even now, when "Gamershaw Boggart" has hardly a leaf to shelter its old haunt, the place is fearful after dark, to the superstitious people of Flixton parish. And yet there seems to be some change working in this respect, for when I asked a villager whether "Gamershaw Boggart" was ever seen now, he said, "Naw; we never see'n no boggarts neaw; nobbut when th' brade-fleigh's (bread-rack) empty!"
CHAPTER III.
I there wi' something did forgather,