Obviously, all places mentioned in the poems are real, either in Penzance or the adjacent Newlyn. Penwith is the area of West Cornwall. "Emmets" is the local name for incomers and holiday-makers. A "Bucca" is a proud, born and bred Newlyn resident.
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An October Gale
A gale swept in, and greyed the day:
It greyed the day through thickened rain;
That thickened rain was flung as spray,
Was flung as spray by wind’s distrain;
The wind’s distrain upturned the bay:
A gale swept in, and greyed the day.
The water’s ankle-deep in Daniel Place!
The ramping waves engulf the prom then drain!
In New Street soaking wind distorts your face!
And Rosevean Road’s a howling gulf in pain!
At noon all’s twilight – streets gone brown like mace!
Ouf! Wave shocks rock the town’s length, brace and brace!
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Turnstones
Turnstones turning stones for hours in hope their food to find,
Shore and pool and waves’ frothed edge have haunt time out of mind;
Compact, chestnut-brown, black-bibbed, yet stark with whited underparts,
Twitting liquidly they dash, pale-legged, about their arts.
Wolfing hoppers, morsels, mites, like monks they duck and bow,
Hour by hour they feed or die, for life’s a constant now;
Spooked, they launch and fleet along the wave line, wings’ black bars on show;
Settled, feeding and their breeding urge are all they know.
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A Blithe and Bonny City Lass
A blithe and bonny city lass,
Hey ho the city lass,
Sat on her fore-step, out of place,
Mourning her luck, which way she turned.
Came one who had a gentle way,
Hey ho a gentle way,
Fair hair, good wits which earned his pay,
Who caught her eye, and so she yearned.
Her pert light beauty, seamed by life,
Hey ho seamed by life,
Quite seized his love thoughts, made them thrive.
“I have a child: take me, take her,”
She warned. He swore, “She’ll be my own,”
Hey ho “she’ll be my own.”
Love’s heat drew both, they made their moan,
And so, content, one-fleshed they were.
He took that woman and her child,
Hey ho and her child,
Far west to where the waves are wild.
In Penzance town they wove their nest
Among granite streets, wind-wet and cold,
Hey ho wind-wet and cold,
But love’s first joys made all to gold
(Always his hand was at her breast).
Well, all must cool: life duns for rent,
Hey ho life duns for rent;
Their food is budget, work is scant,
The girl begs frills that aren’t to have:
The woman’s baulked, tongue-sharp and grey,
Hey ho tongue-sharp and grey,
For he’s in drink, with eyes that stray,
His hair unwashed, and boozed of breath:
And fate should warn each pretty peat,
Hey ho each pretty peat,
That smicker men are rancid meat,
And love’s a trudge through life to death.
(Note: "peat" means pet, merry girl, or simply girl. "Smicker" means beautiful, handsome.)
-----------------
An October Gale
A gale swept in, and greyed the day:
It greyed the day through thickened rain;
That thickened rain was flung as spray,
Was flung as spray by wind’s distrain;
The wind’s distrain upturned the bay:
A gale swept in, and greyed the day.
The water’s ankle-deep in Daniel Place!
The ramping waves engulf the prom then drain!
In New Street soaking wind distorts your face!
And Rosevean Road’s a howling gulf in pain!
At noon all’s twilight – streets gone brown like mace!
Ouf! Wave shocks rock the town’s length, brace and brace!
----------
Turnstones
Turnstones turning stones for hours in hope their food to find,
Shore and pool and waves’ frothed edge have haunt time out of mind;
Compact, chestnut-brown, black-bibbed, yet stark with whited underparts,
Twitting liquidly they dash, pale-legged, about their arts.
Wolfing hoppers, morsels, mites, like monks they duck and bow,
Hour by hour they feed or die, for life’s a constant now;
Spooked, they launch and fleet along the wave line, wings’ black bars on show;
Settled, feeding and their breeding urge are all they know.
----------
A Blithe and Bonny City Lass
A blithe and bonny city lass,
Hey ho the city lass,
Sat on her fore-step, out of place,
Mourning her luck, which way she turned.
Came one who had a gentle way,
Hey ho a gentle way,
Fair hair, good wits which earned his pay,
Who caught her eye, and so she yearned.
Her pert light beauty, seamed by life,
Hey ho seamed by life,
Quite seized his love thoughts, made them thrive.
“I have a child: take me, take her,”
She warned. He swore, “She’ll be my own,”
Hey ho “she’ll be my own.”
Love’s heat drew both, they made their moan,
And so, content, one-fleshed they were.
He took that woman and her child,
Hey ho and her child,
Far west to where the waves are wild.
In Penzance town they wove their nest
Among granite streets, wind-wet and cold,
Hey ho wind-wet and cold,
But love’s first joys made all to gold
(Always his hand was at her breast).
Well, all must cool: life duns for rent,
Hey ho life duns for rent;
Their food is budget, work is scant,
The girl begs frills that aren’t to have:
The woman’s baulked, tongue-sharp and grey,
Hey ho tongue-sharp and grey,
For he’s in drink, with eyes that stray,
His hair unwashed, and boozed of breath:
And fate should warn each pretty peat,
Hey ho each pretty peat,
That smicker men are rancid meat,
And love’s a trudge through life to death.
(Note: "peat" means pet, merry girl, or simply girl. "Smicker" means beautiful, handsome.)
----------
The Settled Life
Stranger behold! Emmets come west desiring
A simple life that’s ethically fulfilling;
They weave their clothes, ride bikes, and stare suspiring
On Penwith’s beauties (when the fogs aren’t spilling).
Renting the moorland cottages gone mouldy,
Off-grid they shiver through the winters’ rattlings,
But when the women, summer-come, get broody,
Shame-faced they seek what’s modern for their fatlings!
Lock-shorn and shaved, their men found steady working,
Whilst they mend school-wear, irked by children’s idlings;
Weekends are shopping, with barely time for talking,
The nights tensed by the baby’s colic bridlings:
Years gone, benignly dumpy, disapproving,
They tut their eldest’s plans to go a’roving!
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A Newlyn Roundelay
Jethro: It fell upon a Christmas Eve,
Billy: Hey ho holiday,
Jethro: When church bells ring and taverns heave,
Billy: Now begins this roundelay.
Jethro: ’Twas in The Swordfish downing shorts,
Billy: Hey ho the crisps and drinks,
Jethro: Shouting jokes and dirty thoughts,
Billy: My God, the noise and sweaty stinks!
Jethro: I saw a girl who’d caught my eye,
Billy: Hey ho she’d caught your eye before?
Jethro: On Chywoone Hill I’d stopped to sigh,
Billy: When she strode past to reach the store?
Jethro: Her hair shone like the sun at sea,
Billy: Hey ho and that’s a pretty sight,
Jethro: Or my fisher’s boots upon the quay,
Billy: Um, isn’t that to do her slight?!
Jethro: Her face was like the whitest plaice,
Billy: Hey ho here’s a fishy tale,
Jethro: Filleted, plump, and all of grace,
Billy: Freshly presented in a crail!
Jethro: Oh, like a rain-wraith on the sea,
Billy: Hey ho a wraith you say?
Jethro: Her vision danced and captured me,
Billy: All on a gale-swept Newlyn day!
Jethro: And now our eyes across the bar,
Billy: Hey ho your eyes, your eyes,
Jethro: Melded with an instant jar,
Billy: Or, some might say, a wild surmise!
Jethro: Outside, the gulls in Foundry Lane,
Billy: Hey ho the herring gulls,
Jethro: Screamed a song in the wind and rain,
Billy: Yes, in the gusts and lulls.
Jethro: I shoved my way through the beer-soaked Tars,
Billy: Hey ho the noisy Tars,
Jethro: And all I saw were dazzling stars:
Billy: Love’s grammar, who can parse?
Jethro: But still the gulls in Fradgan Place,
Billy: Hey ho they know our ways!
Jethro: Long-called like Furies on the chase:
Billy: We’ll larp them for their mocking brays!
Jethro: I grabbed her hand and said my piece,
Billy: Hey ho direct is best,
Jethro: A fisher grained with salt and grease,
Billy: Offers his heart, and that’s no jest.
Jethro: With you, I swore, in Bowjey Hill,
Billy: Hey ho, he’s rapt, he’s rapt,
Jethro: I’ll settle down until, until...
Billy: The fishing quotas all are scrapped!
Jethro: Or, if you like, in Gwavas Road,
Billy: Hey ho his nets are cast,
Jethro: We’ll rig our net loft, our damp abode,
Billy: The Jolly Roger at their mast!
Jethro: Her look was like a smooth Force Three,
Billy: Hey ho off Tater Du,
Jethro: “My Bucca, you’re the Tar for me,”
Billy: She said, and furled him by the clew.
Jethro: Outside the Swordy I took her waist,
Billy: Hey ho those wooing rites,
Jethro: But then I thought, “Am I in haste?”
Billy: The Christmas lights were winks and frights.
Jethro: She said, “We’ll wed and have our brood,”
Billy: Hey ho she gives the law!
Jethro: “You’ll sweat at sea to lift our food.”
Billy: She’s awfu’ firm, it chokes my craw!
Jethro: “And not so fast,” I took my stand,
Billy: Hey ho it’s lovers’ bliss!
Jethro: She thumped me with her open hand!
Billy: And what a harpy’s throaty hiss!
Jethro: So learned I love on Christmas Eve,
Billy: Hey ho holiday,
Jethro: We married were, I can’t believe!
Billy: Now ends our roundelay.
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November Damp
Are you damp yet dream of August days?
O warm and dry!
Are you chilled and long for summer nights?
O shivered sigh!
Penwith nectar with its wetted blights
Conjures a bloom on things of salts and greys.
O warm and dry! O shivered sigh!
No! love the sticky sheen that autumn spreads,
The snaily trails across its browns and reds:
With hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny!
Are you achy with rheumatic bones?
O warm and dry!
Do your teeth hurt in the soggy colds?
O shivered sigh!
Penwith sherbet with its oozing moulds
A glistened grease besmears on walls and stones.
O warm and dry! O shivered sigh!
No! cheer the moisty stain that autumn spreads,
Its dankly sluggish growth on slates and leads:
With hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny!
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© October – November 2023
