A man named Cole, working at the granite quarries at Merrivale Bridge, a few years ago sang me a song concerning a doe that escaped from Elford Park, which was probably situated where is now Yelverton.
THE SILLY DOE
Give ear unto my mournful song
Gay huntsmen every one,
And unto you I will relate
My sad and doleful moan.
O here I be a silly Doe,
From Elford Park I strayed,
In leaving of my company
Myself to death betrayed.
The master said I must be slain
For 'scaping from his bounds:
"O keeper, wind the hunting horn,
And chase him with your hounds."
A Duke of royal blood was there,
And hounds of noble race;
They gathered in a rout next day,
And after me gave chase.
They roused me up one winter morn,
The frost it cut my feet,
My red, red blood came trickling down,
And made the scent lie sweet.
For many a mile they did me run,
Before the sun went down,
Then I was brought to give a teen,
And fall upon the groun'.
The first rode up, it was the Duke:
Said he, "I'll have my will!"
A blade from out his belt he drew
My sweet red blood to spill.
So with good cheer they murdered me,
As I lay on the ground;
My harmless life it bled away,
Brave huntsmen cheering round.
I am a little puzzled as to whether the dry sarcasm in this song is intentional.[21] The melody is peculiarly sweet and plaintive. When a royal duke hunted last on Dartmoor I have been unable to ascertain.
The red deer were anciently common on Dartmoor. It was not till King John's reign that Devon was disafforested, with the exception of Dartmoor and Exmoor. But the deer were mischievous to the crops of the farmer, and to the young plantations, and farmers, yeomen, and squires combined to get rid of them from Dartmoor. Still, however, occasionally one runs from Exmoor and takes refuge in the woods about the Dart, the Plym, and the Tavy.