A diminutive hunchback, being out of collar, applied for a situation. "What can you do, my man?" asked the employer.
"Well," was the reply, "aw can dreyve a horse and cart."
"Drive a horse and cart! Why, man, the horse would tread on you."
"Would he, though?" was the ready response, "He'd ha' to get into th' cart first!"
The inhabitants of the Dean Valley in Rossendale have long been celebrated for their excellence as musicians, both vocal and instrumental; and it is from this fact that their appellation of "Deyghn Layrocks" has arisen. From records more than a century and a half old, we learn that they were in the habit of meeting in each others' houses by turns, and practising together the compositions, sacred and secular, which our country can boast in such rich abundance. Many pieces of their own composing bear the impress of ability far beyond mediocrity, and deserve to be more generally known. Some of these have, indeed, already gone abroad into the world, and are sung in places widely apart; being admired by those who are unable to recognise either their origin or authorship.
I have in my possession a collection in manuscript of no fewer than fifty sacred pieces, consisting of Psalm tunes and chants, composed by residents in the Dean Valley, and in other parts of Rossendale. Large as is this number, I have reason to believe that it is but a fractional part of what might be collected in the locality. Some of the names given to the pieces are characteristic of the dry humour of the authors—a quality which is largely possessed by many of the old inhabitants of the Forest. Among the list we find "Happy Simeon," "Little Amen," "Bocking Warp," "Strong Samson," "Old Methuselah," and "Spanking Rodger."
In handloom days, when every man's house was his workshop, it was usual for the Deyghners to repair to each other's houses alternately after the Sunday's service at the Chapel, and continue their practice of music far into the small hours of the Monday morning; and, on rising after a brief repose, the Monday was spent in a similar manner. Very often the Tuesday also was devoted to the like purpose. But sound, however sweet, is but sorry food for hungry stomachs, and, consequently, during the remaining days of the week, the loom had to be plied with unremitting vigour to supply the ever-recurring wants of the household.
It is related of two of the "Layrocks"—father and son—that they had been busy trying to master a difficult piece of music, one with the violin, the other with the violoncello, but were still unable to execute certain of the more intricate movements to their satisfaction. They had put their instruments aside for the night, and had retired to rest. After his "first sleep," the younger enthusiast, in ruminating over the performance of the evening, thought that if he might only rise and attempt the piece then, he should be able to manage it. Creeping from under the bed-clothes, he awoke his father, who also arose; and soon the two in their shirts might have been seen, through the unscreened window, flourishing their bows at an hour when ordinary mortals are laid unconscious in the arms of Somnus. The lonely traveller, had there been one at that untimely hour, would surely, like Tam o' Shanter as he passed by "Alloway's auld haunted Kirk," have felt his hair rising on end at the sight of two ghostly individuals scraping music at the dead of night, and in such unwonted attire.