Ti traal ma aboot;
Sae it’s hip hip hurrah, lads,
Set up a gert shoot,
An’ blaw all yer whistles,
Screeam, rattle, an’ bang
All ’at ivver ya’ve gitten,
Foor Ah ride the stang.
Then, for a few moments, there arose a tumult of sound, to which the wildest ravings of bedlam would seem insignificant.
This performance lasts three nights, and on the third the effigy is burnt in front of the culprit’s house.
Another very old custom, which is now rarely seen, is that of bottle breaking. When a house was ready for the thatch, in later days the tiles, a bottle was suspended by a ribbon from the ridge beam. Stones were then shied at it, and the one who was lucky enough to smash the bottle claimed the ribbon. If in days past this custom had anything of an occult nature attached to it, it has long ago been forgotten. In its last days it degenerated into what was considered to be a valid excuse for spending the rest of the day in the village pub. O tempora, O mores!