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From: “Lyrics of Lovely Lincolnshire”
by Edith Spilman Dudley
kindly transcribed for the site by Harry and Pam Wells
WINTERINGHAM
Upon her placid time-worn face,
Old Winteringham displays the grace
Of ancient culture's varied ways,
And mystic lore of far-off days.
Long centuries gone, the men of stone
Made implements of flint and bone,
Which excavating hands have found
Hidden within the classic ground.
Now, heedless of the dust of years,
The traveller halts, and thinks he hears
The martial tread of Roman feet,
And echoing hooves on Ermine Street.
The Roman galleys sailed away
When Caesar's men had served their day;
Then, Saxon hordes, resistless, bold,
Swooped on these shores and scourged the wold.
Great pompous kings in all their pride
Have had to wait for Humber's tide,
And voyaging, have found it rough
Before they reached the shores at Brough.
Bold Marmions rest within the shade
Of Church which Norman builders made,
Where still, triumphant thro' the years,
Rings Kirk-White's hymn to banish fears.
Tho' men and cultures fade away
And Winteringham has had her day,
The dignity of ancient grace
Still lingers on her lovely face.
The young English poet, Henry Kirk White
was a student at the ivy-covered Old Rectory of Winteringham. He is said to have composed his famous hymn 'Oft in danger,oft inwoe,' after a tempestuous crossing from Hull to Winteringham, when his small boat almost capsized.
WINTERTON MIDSUMMER
(From an actual incident of June, 1908)
Wake oop, tha' young lig a-bed laggard!
The midsummer breeze is a'blow,
There's no time for dallyin' this mornin'
You an' me's off to Winterton Show ;
So rouse up, and polish thi leggin's
An' slip on thi new corderoy,
An' I'll lend tha my best buckskin weskit
'At I sported when I wur a boy.
An' I'm goin' to weer ma grey topper
(Tho' it's big since my 'air got sa thin)
Then we'll yoak up the mare (owd " Brown Bessie ")
To the gig—then we'll boath scram'le in ;
An' we'll drive thro' soft 'ighways of hemlock
All a'tangle wi' flowers sa sweet,
Where the wild-rose is queen o' the hedgerows
An' the poppies flame out 'mid the wheeat.
Then we'll ketch up wi' all the fine 'osses
An' carts, decked wi' ribbons an' paint,
'Till we drive thro' the streets to the Show-ground
Passin' cottages friendly and quaint.
Next, we'll see the parade o' fine cattle
While the judges debate i' the ring,
As we listen to wondrous grand music
By a band 'at as played for the King
“So, get up, tha lazy young laggard!
Look alive, and prepare for the fray!
We mun laugh an' be merry this mornin'
'Cos it's Winterton Midsummer Day.
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