Some years ago a great fraud was committed in the neighbourhood. It was rumoured that gold was to be found in the gozen—the refuse from the mines. All who had old mines on their land sent up specimens to London, and received reports that there was a specified amount of gold in what was forwarded. Some, to be sure that there was no deception, went up with their specimens and saw them ground, washed, and analysed, and the gold extracted. So large orders were sent up for gozen-crushing machines. These came down, were set to work, and no gold was then found. The makers of the machines had introduced gold-dust into the water that was used in the washing of the crushed stone. I made use of this incident in my novel John Herring.
But to return to the singers. Here is a song of local origin, which, however, I did not obtain from these South Zeal singers. I must premise that the local pronunciation of Okehampton is Ockington.
At Ockington, in Devonshire,
Old vayther lived vor many a year.
And I along wi' he did dwell
Nigh Dartimoor 'tes knawed vull well.
Diddle-diddle-dee.
It happ'nd on a zartain day,
Vour score o' sheep—they rinned astray.
Zeth vayther, Jack go arter'n, yū.
Zez I—Be darned if ee'r I dū.
Diddle-diddle-dee.
Purvokèd at my sāacy tongue,
A dish o' brāath at me he flung.
Then fu' o' wrath, as poppy red
I knacked old vayther on the head.
Diddle-diddle-dee.
Then drayed wor I to Ex't'r jail,
There to be tried—allowed no bail,
And at next Easter 'zizes I
Condemnèd was therefor to die.
Diddle-diddle-dee.