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shazza
New Member
2 Posts
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 Posted -
22/11/2005
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14:09
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Does anyone out there know anything about Henry Nutter, who wrote the poem 'The maid in a calico dress' which was set to music by Gerry Kearns of the Olham Tinkers?
I am trying to find out when it was written. I believe that Henry Nutter was from Burnley, but can not find out anything else about him.
Any info gratefully appreciated.
Shazza.
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melteaser
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Posted - 16/03/2006 : 18:06
The New Borough of Nelson
Tune: "St Patrick was a Gintleman."
Come, listen to my simple song with patience and attention;
Keep silent every restless tongue while here with joy I mention
That Nelson is my glorius theme-her charter, brief, and story-
Her municipal borough scheme, in all its coming glory.
Chorus
Success to Nelson's Council Board, her Aldermen, and Mayor;
That they may live in sweet accord, is our united prayer.
This day with cheerful hearts we toast the Nelson Corporation
(And England of that name will boast long as the earths duration);
Though honours high are on her piled, in meritorious stages,
She is but yet a budding child to bloom in future ages.
Success to Nelson's, &c.
Young Nelson boasts an upright trade in all her various classes;
Her matchless fancy goods are made by Nelson's bonny lasses,
Her brilliant spots and gay sateens adorn each local heiress,
Her fine jeanettes and lovely jeans would grace a Nelson Mayoress.
Success to Nelson's, &c.
Your sixteen squares are full or more, without the least disguising,
Where every inch counts sixty-four, or sterling counts comprising;
Thus merchants get their proper dues, goods are what you define them,
And Oldham's honest thirty-twos are just as they consign them.
Success to Nelson's, &c.
From right your tradesmen never flinch, sound principles impel them,
Their warp and weft in every inch are truly as they sell them.
These truths are clear, which I record, with your entire permission,
No agent ever doubts their word, or charges imposition.
Success to Nelson's, &c.
The Queen that wears the British crown has granted you a charter,
The reason is that Nelson town is sound in every quarter;
Then cast away all care and gloom, throughout the coming winter,
And may you clear in every loom, a shilling on each printer.
Success to Nelson's, &c.
Expand your wings, ye sage-like Board, in neighbourly alliance,
But take care not dear old Barrowford without her full compliance.
The lovely vale might joy reflect with her green banks and bowers,
Her generous heart and intellect would raise your mental powers.
Success to Nelson's, &c.
Her stately piles of ancient halls would throw a lustre o'er you,
Her healing springs and waterfalls would dance with joy before you!
The banks of Hutherstone would ring with stock-doves sweetly cooing,
Above the groves where maidens sing when lovers fond are wooing.
Success to Nelson's, &c.
Include fair rosy Brierfield, and lovely Reedley Hallows,
Then charming Wheatley Lane would yield, which Pendle Forest follows;
Spen Brook and Thornyhome you'll take without the slightest parley,
And for your future honour's sake include Newchurch and Barley.
Success to Nelson's, &c.
Take calm Roughlee, the boggart's lair, where witches walked abroad in,
And Blacko bright, and Foulridge fair, and Laneshawbridge and Trawden,
And bonny Colne, which monarchs prized and poured their blessings on her;
Although you think she's fossilized, she still maintains her honour.
Success to Nelson's, &c.
On ancient charters do not trench, for these she takes her pride in;
On her impartial County Bench stern justice sits deciding;
For these prerogatives she'll fight, Nelsonians may rest on;
She must maintain her sacred right, of sending roughs to Preston.
Success to Nelson's, &c.
Her dear old church and charming bells, with their associations,
The organ's diapason swells, with pious intonations,
Are sweet and sacred to the town by filial true affection;
To take in Colne with her renown would be a sad reflection.
Success to Nelson's, &c.
Let Nelson still discreetly reign, and hold what she possesses;
In honour's path she'll yet obtain far more sublime successes.
Her borders still may she extend, may all her works be thorough,
And at the next Reform Bill send a member from th borough.
Success to Nelson's, &c.
Old Burnley sends her love by me, and tenders you her greeting;
From jealous feelings we are free at this your charter meeting;
Wide may your borough still expand by well directed labour,
Till Burnley grasps you by the hand a close and friendly neighbour.
Success to Nelson's, &c.
for Nelson's Council thus we'll pray, in love and faith fraternal;
May heaven bless their lives each day, their sins forgive nocturnal!
Long may your lads be strong and true, in honour's path abiding
And Nelson's bonny lasses you, be cautious in deciding!
Success to Nelson's, &c.
Accept a simple poet's prayer, each Nelson saint and sinner,
May every local magnate there, enjoy the chairman's dinner:
My pen I now lay on the shelf, and feel a little slighted;
I should have dinnered there myself, but never Gott invited!
Mel
http://www.briercliffesociety.co.uk  |
moh
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Posted - 16/03/2006 : 20:13
WOW!!!
Say only a little but say it well |
Debs
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Posted - 16/03/2006 : 22:12
Aha! I think the American can help with this one!
There is some good info about Henry Nutter in Jesse Blakey's "Annals and Stories of Barrowford" (which lept off the shelf of the used bookseller's shop at Bolton Abbey and into my arms just 2 weeks ago!)
Here is one bit (pages 299 & 300):
"When I was running the Barrowford Almanack over 30 years ago, I could always count on a poetical contribution from the pen of Henry Nutter. The Nutters during the last centruy were a very important family in Barrowford. They traced their descent from the Madam Nutter, of Roughlee Hall, who was executed at Lancaster on a charge of witchcraft. (NOTE: if this is true, then I am also descended from Alice!) Henry Nutter married Maria Ann Berry, a sister of the late Henry Berry, manufacturer. In the early 1860's Henry Nutter (brother to Daniel, my 3x Great Grandfather) went to reside at Burnley, and carried on the business of cotton manufacturer with varying success for many years. He took a prominent part in the public life of Burnley. He was a strong politician, a leader of the Radical Party, and he took an active part in all elections, and was a Vice-President of the Liberal Association. He was a member of the Burnley Town Council for several years, and, in consequence of the humor which he introduced into the proceedings, was a great favourite with the members. He was also a director and trustee of the Mechanics' Institution. He was a great champion of the views of Darwin, with regard to evolution, and was a very interesting lecturer on astronomy. Mr. Nutter himself was a poet, dealing chiefly with matters of the district. He had a very extensive knowledge of Lancashire writers, and was the last outsider to see Ben Brierley before that well-known author died. Burns was his favourite poet, and it might be said of him, with truth, that he had his poems off by heart. He was possessed of a wonderful memory and in lecturing on astronomy, could give the distances of scores of different planets without reference to any manuscript. He was knocked down accidentally by a cyclist in Manchester, and received injuries which ultimately resulted in his death."
Let me scout out more, as there are bits throughout the book. What are you looking for in particular? Is someone a relation to Henry (and therefore ME?)
Deb.
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Stanley
Local Historian & Old Fart
36804 Posts
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Posted - 17/03/2006 : 05:46
This is foreign territory to me but in case it helps Healy Dell is a valley on the north side of Rochdale that used to be stuffed with water mills......
Stanley Challenger Graham
Barlick View
stanley at barnoldswick.freeserve.co.uk |
belle
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Posted - 17/03/2006 : 09:08
I am enjoying this. Ringo, do you think there is a recording of the song on the John Peel archive which can be found on the BBC radio web site? It should be easier to find thanks to your dating. Mel, thanks these poems are great. Can't wait to hear them sung.!
Life is what you make it |
melteaser
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Posted - 17/03/2006 : 09:12
There are many more, it's just time consuming to transcribe them. I'm not doing them in any particular order, just opening the book at a page and typing. More to follow soon.
Mel
http://www.briercliffesociety.co.uk |
belle
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Posted - 17/03/2006 : 09:21
Well it's much appreciated. I have been compelled to write poetry all my life, and began to think this could be genetic when I found a poet on the fraternal side of my fathers family, but as the maternal side were Nutters perhaps it has come down from both sides. Funny things genes!
Life is what you make it |
melteaser
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Posted - 17/03/2006 : 13:42
On The Marriage of Mr Charles Whittle and Miss Mary Bond, Burnley
Dear Mary, you tender your freedom this day,
You sacrifice your body and purse;
Then be not rebellious, but love and obey,
And take him for better and worse.
A nervous sensation creeps over my skin,
That some of your friends must have shared,
When thinking that you will this morning begin
To be with a Whittle close pared.
This day you engage in a treaty, dear girl,
No trifling, gossip or parley;
Yet if the man's noble he'll find you a pearl,
A wife and blessing to Charlie.
How sweet were your lips, Mary, when you were little,
Your nature was gentle and fond:
Thus may they remain when you turn to a Whittle
And give up your heart with a Bond.
May Charlie in Bond-age be joyful and free
And his board supplied with good vicyuals;
Long may his dear partner live happy and be
The mother of twenty sharp Whittles.
And now from my heart may you flourish in peace,
May Charles never sullenly mutter:
As seasons advance may your pleasures increase,
Is the prayer of yours, Harry Nutter.
Mel
http://www.briercliffesociety.co.uk |
melteaser
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Posted - 17/03/2006 : 14:17
On the Death of a Nephew in his 21st Year, Nov. 1, 1888
In silence I entered the home of my youth:
There death had again cast a gloom,
The lad that I valued for honour and truth,
Was cut like a flower in its bloom.
A brother sat pensive and gazed in the fire,
Depressed by affection profound;
His darling old mother, his sisters and sire,
In sorrow sat weeping around.
The charming old fiddle lay mute in the case,
The bow by its side was unstrung;
The fiddler lay sleeping in death's cold embrace,
Once noble, still life-like and young.
There close wept an angel attendant and ward,
A loving companion and friend,
Who cherished and nursed with a tender regard,
The poor suffering youth to the end.
In solo, or trio, or in the full score,
He cheerfully tendered his part;
Those hands will, alas! be responsive no more,
To gladden his dear honest heart.
Attentive, acute, and refined were his ears,
To music, to morals, and worth:
Those eyes that oft bathed in affectionate tears,
Are closed to all things upon earth.
Those fingers which tunefully tempered the screw,
And swept each melodius string
With timely precision, so graceful and true,
Will nevermore harmony bring.
Alas! that musicians should sicken and die,
That draw out the heart-stirring tone;
Alas! that such merit and attributes high,
Should perish in life's blushing dawn.
Mel
http://www.briercliffesociety.co.uk |
belle
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Posted - 18/03/2006 : 09:29
Keep them coming, Mel, they are great! Spanning every aspect of life it would seem!
Life is what you make it |
melteaser
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Posted - 18/03/2006 : 10:12
A Story of a Poodle
My Dear Mister Editor Houlding,
With poets I was never classed;
I neither want praising nor scolding,
For either the present or the past.
But I ask to relate you a story,
In plain honest doggerel verse;
Though clear as the waters of Shorey,
The spring is undoubtedly worse.
A man of a generous nature,
Though not over fooish or wise,
Will love a kind inncoent creature,
And not o'er a brute tyrannise.
Their use and devotion compel us
To love them and even caress;
Yet cruel cantankerous fellows
Will torture the things they possess.
I once had a bonny French poodle,
A cunning affectionate thing,
At my feet she would fondle and cuddle,
But she strayed one morning in spring.
She deserted the home she was born in,
The cottage wherein she was reared;
In your paper on Saturday morning,
This curious notice appeared:
"Lost, stolen, or strayed, I cannot tell which,
A beautiful dark faced poodle bitch,
With dark brown eyes, and an excellent smell,
Her ears are uncut, and she answers to Nell.
Her action is good, though her tail is unfurled,
She's a regular swell as she trots through the world,
A handsome reward any person will get,
Who brings to my office that brute of a pet."
On the morrow she came with a caper,
I know not how she was constrained;
But she followed the boy with your paper,
As if she knew what it contained.
I had scarcely unfastened the shutter,
The boy had just opened the door;
'Tis as true as my name's Harry Nutter,
That Nellie jumped onto the floor.
Mel
http://www.briercliffesociety.co.uk |
melteaser
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Posted - 18/03/2006 : 12:08
To Mr. H. Houlding, Burnley
Hail! sweetest poet of the Brun,
To you these heartfelt lines are spun;
Long may your kind autumnal sun
Keep bright and clear,
And safely through its orbit run
For many a year.
My dear old minstrel, tell me why
Your Muse of late has been so shy?
While in peculiar metre I
Dare touch the strings:
Or with spasmodic efforts fly
On broken wings.
This minor bard has long revered
The poet who has nobly steered
A faithful pen; while cowards feared
A soul so brave:
Long may his patriarchal beard
In honour wave!
Your Muse, my friend, is sweet and true;
I've read the volume sent by you,
With growing interest through and through,
My reverend sire;
And find each time more credit due
To your sweet lyre.
Your notes are touched with graceful ease
Their modulated numbers please
Like zephyrs playing through the trees
"In Summer Days;"
With tuneful pure Parnassian breeze
You pour your lays.
Then come, dear Houlding, strike yout lyre,
And like the soaring lark aspire;
Or to your favourite shades retire
Among the woods,
And join the cheerful feathered choir
By Calder's floods.
Sing gently your sweet "Songs of Rest,"
Or read to me of "Pendle's" crest,
Or "Walks in Snow" where children pressed
Their "tiny feet:"
Or "By the River" which you blessed
With musings sweet.
In "Summer Skies" and "Moonrise" eves,
When "In the Woods" your fancy weaves,
"Forget-me-nots," and "Autumn Leaves"
"In Peace"; and "Rest,"
"Friendship" to "The Soul's Answer" cleaves
In "Wild Flowers" dressed.
Come then your humble friend to greet;
Leave every proof and leader sheet,
And that hard Editorial seat,
And darksome ink:
In bowers ambrosial let us meet,
And nectar drink.
I, like the simple robin sing,
The last in autumn, first in spring;
At dusk or dawn, with shivering wing
I chant along:
To you dedicate and bring
This simple song.
The critic may such lines despise,
And carping look profoundly wise:
His scowling deep tempestuous eyes
May roll away:
He harms me not, he may chastise,
But cannot slay.
With pen from fear or favour loose,
The honest critic must conduce
To raise the poet's aim and use
Whom he assails:
If free from bias, or abuse,
He holds the scales.
But if his tooth be piercing sharp,
And badger bound in woof and warp,
He then in vain may carve and carp,
And cast his sting:
He cannot silence one sweet harp,
Or break a string.
My Muse is now on danger's brink;
For suddenly I pause: and think,
That you have scribbled critic's ink,
And acid too,
And made artistic authors shrink,
And tremble through.
When to your strictures I allude,
I feel I'm from my latitude:
No further now will I intrude
Upon your time,
But right or wrong I thus conclude
This simple rhyme.
Mel
http://www.briercliffesociety.co.uk |
Debs
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Posted - 18/03/2006 : 14:21
Regarding the poem Mel posted, "On the Death of a Nephew in his 21st Year, Nov. 1, 1888"
Since Henry was the brother Daniel (my 3x GGFather), I was looking through my Nutter files to see if I could identify who the nephew was. Sadly, he doesn't match with any of my records so he wouldn't have been Daniel's son. (Another side note...we have wondered where the music came from..I think it's the Nutters, Daniel was butcher & choir master, the lad in the poem a violinist, several of Daniel's sisters were in the choir, my grandmother was musical down through my children. If you are ever in the White Bull in Gisburn, Ralph has a copy of my daughter's CD!!!)
But I did find this interesting little bit in Blakey's book. Can anyone tell me where this happened?
William Nutter was a brother of the late Daniel Nutter, also of Henry Nutter, and also uncle of Mrs. Councillor Atkingson, of Thornhill, Mrs. Wiseman, of Bankhouse, and others. He was grandfather of Nurse Roberts, now a Primitive Methodist medical missionary in Africa. He was a butcher by trade and his shop was at the corner in Gisburn Road, opposite the Co-operative Stores. On one occaision he was going up Westhill or Longfields, and had his butcher knives in his pocket, but in getting over a gate, or railing, about where the Vicarage now stands, he slipped, or fell, and a knife pierced his neck. He turned, and ran back for a short distance, but bled so rapidly that he soon fell exhausted and died very shortly after. The even tcaused a tremendous sensation in the village, for he was well-known and highly respected. He left a widow and several children for whom the deepest sympathy was felt by all who knew them.
Deb...
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Callunna
Revolving Grey Blob
3044 Posts
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Posted - 29/03/2006 : 20:50
Just for the record, we resurrected "Maid in the Calico Dress" while having a practice last week, with a view to singing it this Saturday (1 April) at the folk night (Foster's Arms).
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BarrowfordJohn
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Posted - 30/03/2006 : 18:50
The site of the William Nutter death was at the Bank Style. This was the style on the footpath from Barrowford to Roughlee and gave its name to the Church Street area around Bank Hall (the Lamb Club). This ancient footpath was preserved when the area was developed, it is officially called Barrow Passage and runs between the Old Primitive Methodist Chapel and Groom's Cottage, along the side of the Old Vicarage at Top 'O the Hill, Church Street. The path now terminates in a 1960s estate but once ran through the Long Fields, past the Fulshaw farms and to the top of Pasture Lane.
The present style would be built when the Vicarage was built, shortly following the tragedy.The spot was in a boundary fence enclosing 3 plots of land known as The garden, part of Bank Style House Farm (this stood roughly on the site of Nolic Another's house on Hill Top) and was owned by the Veevers - it was part of the Oaklands Estate properties.
Edited by - BarrowfordJohn on 31 March 2006 10:13:13
Never trust an electrician with no eyebrows!
www.barrowfordpress.co.uk |
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Henry Nutter Burnley poet
