Have been searching for months for poem that my father used to recite, when I was a child. some of the lines were Ghosties and ghoulies and things that go bump in the night. I am pretty sure it is Scottish because my dad was a Scot. I thought author was Robert Burns ,but when I did a search on his poems , I couldn't find it. So maybe it isn't him. Can anyone help?
I only know it as a short prayer.
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggetty beasties and things that go bump in the night, Good Lord deliver us.
I have no source for this, its just something everyone knows. As is:-
From Hell and Hull and Halifax, Good Lord deliver me.
Thanks , but either there is much more, or my dad made up a lot. I am a 68 year old grandmother who's Grandkids want to know more about their great grandad who died 2 years ago.I was trying to remember this poem for them., but my memory failed me.
I've just done the obvious and looked in the Oxford Dictionary of Quotes. It only has what I knew and cites it as anonymus Cornish, so your father must have known something else. I'm surprised as I also thought it was Scottish. Try The Scottish Poetry Library on www.spl.org.uk . They also have a lost quotes section.
From Hull and Halifax and Hell is also the refrain of the poem/song A Dalesman's Litany. Don't know whether the saying came before the song.
I found 2 websites That say it is from an old Scottish Prayer. Doesn't the fact that it says ( from) signify there should be more to it? check out hauntedjack.com
On the Internet this 'prayer' is variously attributed to old Scottish, Cornish, Welsh and 'Celtic' sources, all anonymous, and none giving any more than the well-known words. Such diversity suggests lack of authenticity. Personally, I doubt it is really old, or was ever a serious prayer. My guess is it's a relatively modern (e.g. 19th century) humorous parody to help children laugh away night fears.
you all have really got me to thinking . I guess I have to assume that my dad (who btw was a good one for making up stories but usually about himself) just made up other lines to go with this prayer/poem. if he did he was a poet as well as a story teller who could make people believe his stories were true. Gee I wish I could remember some more seems like there was something about someone or something creeping down a hall and at the end something got you if you were bad.
Could your Dad have been using the 'Ghosties and Ghoulies' quotation to introduce or close a recitation of:
‘Little Orphant Annie’
by James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916)
'Inscribed with all faith and affection
To all the little children: -- The happy ones; and sad ones;
The sober and the silent ones; the boisterous and glad ones;
The good ones -- Yes, the good ones, too; and all the lovely bad ones').
Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,
An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,
An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,
An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;
An' all us other childern, when the supper-things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun
A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,
An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you
Wunst they wuz a little boy wouldn't say his prayers, --
An' when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wuzn't there at all!
An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press,
An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'-wheres, I guess;
But all they ever found wuz thist his pants an' roundabout: --
An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin,
An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin;
An' wunst, when they was "company," an' ole folks wuz there,
She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!
An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,
They wuz two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,
An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about!
An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,
An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!
An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,
An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away, --
You better mind yer parunts, an' yer teachurs fond an' dear,
An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,
An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Post Edited (11-13-03 07:14)
YES!!!! I do believe that was it. but he recited it with a Scottish accent . Where in the world did I get the idea it was by Robert Burns? Did Burns also write a really scary poem that I may have also heard him recite and mixed up the two?
Burns's Tam o' shanter, perhaps: he is chased by witches.
if it's this one...because i knew the short poem as a kid, It's cornish from Lord Alfred Tennyson
Alfred Tennyson, 1st Baron (1809–92)
WHEER ’asta beän saw long and meä liggin’ ’ere aloän?
Noorse? thourt nowt o’ a noorse: whoy, Doctor’s abeän an’ agoän:
Says that I moänt ’a naw moor aäle: but I beänt a fool:
Git ma my aäle, fur I beänt a-gawin’ to breäk my rule.
Doctors, they knaws nowt, fur a says what’s nawways true: 5
Naw soort o’ koind o’ use to saäy the things that a do.
I ’ve ’ed my point o’ aäle ivry noight sin’ I beän ’ere.
An’ I ’ve ’ed my quart ivry market-noight for foorty year.
Parson ’s a beän loikewoise, an’ a sittin’ ’ere o’ my bed.
“The amoighty ’s a taäkin o’ you 1 to ’issén, my friend,” a said, 10
An’ a towd ma my sins, an ’s toithe were due, an’ I gied it in hond:
I done my duty boy ’um, as I ’a done boy the lond.
Larn’d a ma’ beä. I reckons I ’annot sa mooch to larn.
But a cast oop, thot a did, ’bout Bessy Marris’s barne.
Thaw a knaws I hallus voäted wi’ Squoire an’ choorch an’ staäte, 15
An’ i’ the woost o’ toimes I wur niver agin the raäte.
An’ I hallus coom’d to ’s chooch afoor moy Sally wur deäd,
An’ ’eärd ’um a bummin’ awaäy loike a buzzard-clock 2 ower my ’eäd,
An’ I niver knaw’d whot a meän’d but I thowt a ’ad summut to saäy,
An’ I thowt a said whot a owt to ’a said an’ I coom’d away. 20
Bessy Marris’s barne! tha knaws she laäid it to meä.
Mowt a beän, mayhap, for she wur a bad un, sheä.
’Siver, I kep ’um, I kep ’um, my lass, tha mun understond;
I done moy duty boy ’um as I ’a done boy the lond.
But Parson a cooms an’ a goäs, an’ a says it eäsy an’ freeä, 25
“The almoighty’s a taäkin o’ you to ’issén, my friend,” says ’eä.
I weänt saäy men be loiars, thaw summun said it in ’aäste:
But ’e reäds wonn sarmin a weeäk, an’ I ’a stubb’d Thurnaby waäste.
D’ ya moind the waäste, my lass? naw, naw, tha was not born then;
Theer wur a boggle in it, I often ’eärd ’um mysen; 30
Moäst loike a butter-bump, 3 fur I ’eärd ’um about an’ about,
But I stubb’d ’um oop wi’ the lot, an’ raäv’d an’ rembled ’um out.
Keäper’s it wur; fo’ they fun ’um theer a-laäid of ’is faäce
Down i’ the woild enemies 4 afoor I coom’d to the plaäce.
Noäks or Thimbleby—toäner 5 ’ed shot ’um as deäd as a naäil. 35
Noäks wur ’ang’d for it oop at ’soize—but git ma my aäle.
Dubbut looök at the waäste: theer warn’t not feeäd for a cow;
Nowt at all but bracken an’ fuzz, an’ looök at it now—
Warnt worth nowt a haäcre, an’ now theer’s lots o’ feeäd,
Fourscoor 6 yows upon it an’ some on it down i’ seeäd. 7 40
Nobbut a bit on it ’s left, an’ I meän’d to ’a stubb’d it at fall,
Done it ta-year I meän’d, an’ runn’d plow thruff it an’ all,
If godamoighty an’ parson ’ud nobbut let ma aloän,
Meä, wi’ haäte hoonderd haäcre o’ Squoire’s, an’ lond o’ my oän.
Do godamoighty knaw what a ’s doin’ a-taäkin’ o’ meä? 45
I beänt wonn as saws ’ere a beän an’ yonder a peä;
An’ Squoire ’ull be sa mad an’ all—a’ dear a’ dear!
And I ’a managed for Squoire coom Michael-mas thutty year.
A mowt ’a taäen owd Joänes, as ’ant not a ’aäpoth o’ sense,
Or a mowt ’a taäen young Robins—a niver mended a fence: 50
But godamoighty a moost taäke meä an’ taäpoth ma now
Wi’ aäf the cows to cauve an’ Thurnaby hoälms to plow!
Looök ’ow quoloty smoiles when they seeäs ma a passin’ boy,
Says to thessén, naw doubt, “what a man a beä sewer-loy!”
Fur they knaws what I beän to Squoire sin fust a coom’d to the ’All; 55
I done moy duty by Squoire an’ I done moy duty boy hall.
Squoire ’si’ Lunnon, an’ summun I reckons ’ull ’a to wroite,
For whoä’s to howd the lond ater meä thot muddles ma quoit;
Sartin-sewer I beä, thot a weänt niver give it to Joänes,
Naw, nor a moänt to Robins—a niver rembles the stoäns. 60
But summun ’ull come ater meä mayhap wi’ ’is kittle o’ steäm
Huzzin’ an’ maäzin’ the blessed feälds wi’ the Divil’s oän teäm.
Sin’ I mun doy I mun doy, thaw loife they says is sweet,
But sin’ I mun doy I mun doy, for I couldn abeär to see it.
What atta stannin’ theer fur, an’ doesn bring ma the aäle? 65
Doctor’s a’ toättler, lass, an a ’s hallus i’ the owd taäle;
I weaänt breäk rules fur Doctor, a knaws naw moor nor a floy;
Git ma my aäle I tell tha, an’ if I mun doy I mun doy.
That's amazing, if genuine. I never knew Tennyson wrote anything in Cornish dialect. But why would he call it 'Northern Farmer'? Cornwall is as far south as you can go in England.
I agree. It IS amazing and it IS genuine. There's a book:
The Works of Alfred Lord Tennyson: With an Introduction and Bibliography
By Alfred Tennyson
Edition: reissue, illustrated
Published by Wordsworth Editions, 1994
ISBN 1853264148, 9781853264146
It's a beautiful book and it's part of "Enoch Arden and other Poems" There's an English (American) translation too, but he IS credited for writing the Cornish as version as well. I've tried to find out exactly when it was written, etc. BUT, everything is kinda crazy, as was Tennyson, He seemed to have written some things to the Queen, etc. and maybe someone had Cornish roots? I'm not sure, regardless, it is beautiful.
Trying to hear the accent as I read that poem, it's coming through to me more as Yorkshire than Cornish. I'll have to see what my Yorkshire in laws think about it.
This is the Project Gutenberg version of the poem from "Enoch Arden etc" I find it easier to read without the diacritics.
Wheer 'asta bean saw long and mea liggin' 'ere aloan?
Noorse? thoort nowt o' a noorse: whoy, doctor's abean an' agoan:
Says that I moant 'a naw moor yaale: but I beant a fool:
Git ma my yaale, fur I beant a-gooin' to break my rule.
Doctors, they knaws nowt, for a says what's nawways true:
Naw soort o' koind o' use to saay the things that a do.
I've 'ed my point o' yaale ivry noight sin' I bean 'ere,
An' I've 'ed my quart ivry market-noight for foorty year.
Parson's a bean loikewoise, an' a sittin' ere o' my bed.
The amoighty's a taakin o' you to 'issen, my friend,' 'a said,<br />
An' a towd ma my sins, an's toithe were due, an' I gied it in hond;<br />
I done my duty by un, as I 'a done by the lond.<br />
Larn'd a ma' bea. I reckons I 'annot sa mooch to larn.<br />
But a cost oop, thot a did, 'boot Bessy Marris's barn.<br />
Thof a knaws I hallus voated wi' Squoire an' choorch an staate,<br />
An' i' the woost o' toimes I wur niver agin the raate.<br />
An' I hallus comed to 's choorch afoor moy Sally wur dead,<br />
An' 'eerd un a bummin' awaay loike a buzzard-clock* ower my yead,<br />
An' I niver knaw'd whot a mean'd but I thowt a 'ad summut to saay,<br />
An I thowt a said whot a owt to 'a said an' I comed awaay.<br />
Bessy Marris's barn! tha knaws she laaid it to mea.<br />
Mowt 'a bean, mayhap, for she wur a bad un, shea.<br />
'Siver, I kep un, I kep un, my lass, tha mun under- stond;<br />
I done my duty by un as I 'a done by the lond.<br />
But Parson a comes an' a goos, an' a says it easy an' freea<br />
The amoighty's a taakin o' you to 'issen, my friend,' says 'ea.
I weant saay men be loiars, thof summun said it in 'aaste:
But a reads wonn sarmin a weeak, an' I 'a stubb'd Thornaby waaste.
D'ya moind the waaste, my lass? naw, naw, tha was not born then;
Theer wur a boggle in it, I often 'eerd un mysen;
Moast loike a butter-bump,* for I 'eerd un aboot an aboot,
But I stubb'd un oop wi' the lot, an' raaved an rembled un oot.
Keaper's it wur; fo' they fun un theer a laaid on 'is faace
Doon i' the woild 'enemies afoor I comed to the plaace.
Noaks or Thimbleby--toner 'ed shot un as dead as a naail.
Noaks wur 'ang'd for it oop at 'soize--but git ma my yaale.
Dubbut looak at the waaste: theer warn't not fead for a cow:
Nowt at all but bracken an' fuzz, an' looak at it now--
Warn't worth nowt a haacre, an' now theer's lots o' fead,
Fourscore yows upon it an' some on it doon in sead.
Nobbut a bit on it's left, an' I mean'd to 'a stubb'd it at fall,
Done it ta-year I mean'd, an' runn'd plow thruff it an' all,
If godamoighty an' parson 'ud nobbut let ma aloan,
Mea, wi' haate oonderd haacre o' Squoire's an' lond o' my oan.
Do godamoighty knaw what a's doing a-taakin' o' mea?
I beant wonn as saws 'ere a bean an' yonder a pea;
An' Squoire 'ull be sa mad an' all--a' dear a' dear!
And I 'a monaged for Squoire come Michaelmas thirty year.
A mowt 'a taaken Joanes, as 'ant a 'aapoth o' sense,
Or a mowt a' taaken Robins--a niver mended a fence:
But godamoighty a moost taake mea an' taake ma now
Wi 'auf the cows to cauve an' Thornaby holms to plow!
Looak 'ow quoloty smoiles when they sees ma a passin' by,
Says to thessen naw doot `what a mon a be sewer-ly!'
For they knaws what I bean to Squoire sin fust a comed to the 'All;
I done my duty by Squoire an' I done my duty by all.
Squoire's in Lunnon, an' summun I reckons 'ull 'a to wroite,
For who's to howd the lond ater mea thot muddles ma quoit;
Sartin-sewer I bea, thot a weant niver give it to Joanes,
Noither a moant to Robins--a niver rembles the stoans.
But summun 'ull come ater mea mayhap wi' 'is kittle o' steam
Huzzin' an' maazin' the blessed fealds wi' the Divil's oan team.
Gin I mun doy I mun doy, an' loife they says is sweet,
But gin I mun doy I mun doy, for I couldn abear to see it.
What atta stannin' theer for, an' doesn bring ma the yaale?
Doctor's a 'tottler, lass, an a's hallus i' the owd taale;
I weant break rules for Doctor, a knaws naw moor nor a floy;
Git ma my yaale, I tell tha, an' gin I mun doy I mun doy.
From the Internet, I've learned that 'Northern Farmer' was written by Tennyson in February 1861, while staying at Faringford [wherever exactly that is]. He had just been visiting Cornwall, but Northern Farmer is described as a Lincolnshire reminiscence. So I suspect the dialect belongs to Lincolnshire, which was Tennyson's home county, not Cornwall.
Farringford is on the Isle of Wight, it was Tennyson's home for 40 years. [www.bbc.co.uk] />
And Thornaby, mentioned in the poem, is even further north than Yorkshire. It's up on Teeside. [www.thornabyontees.com]
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 02/13/2009 10:26AM by LindaD.
Thanks for those facts, Linda. Your initial reaction that the accent was coming through as Yorkshire was no doubt right. Though perhaps AT was composing a sort of generic northern dialect, like a non-Irish actor adopting fictitious, generic stage Irish when playing a character from the Emerald Isle.
So Thurnaby = Thornaby. My AAA Road Atlas of Britain says that's in North Yorkshire. Not as far north as any of the first three of "Noorrthoomberlen, Coomberlen, Doorumm an Yowrrrk".
AAA doesn't list Farringford. From the link you give, I gather it's the name of the AT house, not a village.