Ramblings
Saunterings
Ramblings: about North-West England
Ramblings is a set of articles about North-West England, of unknown authorship and
indeterminate date, believed to have been written for amusement on rainy days,
which are not unknown in North-West England.
43. The Twelve Days of Christmas
It is not widely known that the traditional song “The Twelve Days
of Christmas” began as a lament sung by the wives of Pennine
gamesmen. In the 19th century, as indeed today, men of means
deserted their homes at Christmas in order to massacre wildlife
upon the moors. The no-longer-wildlife was brought home
in order to mollify the wives. “The Twelve Days of Christmas”
records the increasing disillusionment of one wife, Lady Mossdale,
at this carnage and, as such, it is believed to be the first anthem
of the conservation movement. The song itemises the day-by-day
offerings of the Lady’s ‘true love’, Lord Mossdale:
On the first day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
a partridge in a pear tree.
This refers, of course, to the grey partridge, not to the French,
or red-legged, variety. Thanks partly to the efforts of the likes of
our Lord, the grey partridge is now greatly reduced in numbers.
Indeed, there cannot have been many about in our Lord’s time if he
could only bring one home. Since then, many red-legged partridges
have been reared and released to be shot, which someone as expert
as our Lord would have found easy to do, as the silly birds are
reluctant to fly. Neither partridge is known to be fond of roosting
in pear trees. Originally, the line was “a partridge and a pear tree”,
indicating that our Lord brought the pear tree to supplement his
meagre offering of a single partridge.
On the second day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
two turtle doves
and a partridge in a pear tree.
Experienced gamesman that he was, our Lord would not
normally have shot sitting ducks like turtle doves. However, the
dove is regarded as a symbol of love, which our Lord was anxious
to demonstrate after his faltering first day. Thus, he brought two
birds to his Lady. She, however, was no fool. She knew that turtle doves disappear from
our hills in the autumn but she saw no harm
in humouring her dear, if gormless, husband. They were really
pigeons.
On the third day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
three French hens,
two turtle doves
and a partridge in a pear tree.
The Faverolles, or French hen, is, like all things French, much
better than the English version, at least gustatorially. At that time,
the French hen had only recently been introduced to the UK. It is
a gentle, plump bird that does not present much of a challenge to
a gamesman but no doubt our Lord shot the birds through habit
rather than necessity. But he may have bought them at Penrith
market. Either way, the exotic French hens indicate a commendable
determination to satisfy his Lady.
On the fourth day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
four calling birds,
three French hens,
two turtle doves
and a partridge in a pear tree.
This is a corruption of the
original ‘colly birds’, ‘colly’
being an old English word for
black. This, then, is a reference
to black grouse, which at that
time were common upon the
Pennine hills. If our Lord
brought back four black grouse, and presumably all the
other gentry in his shooting
party did likewise, then that’s rather a lot of black grouse. Not
surprisingly, black grouse are no longer to be found in any numbers on the Pennines.
This is a trifle sad for us but the black grouse provided more than a
trifle for Lady Mossdale.
On the fifth day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
five golden rings,
four calling birds,
three French hens,
two turtle doves
and a partridge in a pear tree.
Disappointingly for our Lady, these were not really gold rings.
They were gold ring-necked pheasants. Our Lady and friends still
had plenty of French hen and black grouse to consume - this was,
of course, before the invention of freezers. The ring-necked, or,
as we call it, common, pheasant was introduced from Asia many
centuries ago and became, well, common. It is still common, despite
the endeavours of our gamesmen, because estates breed them in
great numbers to be shot.
On the sixth day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
six geese a-laying,
five golden rings,
four calling birds,
three French hens,
two turtle doves
and a partridge in a pear tree.
This is an indication that our Lord was beginning to find game
thin on the ground, and in the air, on the hills. He seems to have
joined the wild fowlers on Morecambe Bay. Perhaps he shot
predecessors of the pink-footed geese that winter there now.
The ‘a-laying’ could mean laying, dead, on a slab.
Or perhaps the ‘a’ is a prefix, as in asymmetric, atonal, and so on,
meaning ‘not’. By this stage, our Lady’s family was somewhat sated
with its ornithic repasts and could not stomach six geese.
On the seventh day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
seven swans a-swimming,
six geese a-laying,
five golden rings,
four calling birds,
three French hens,
two turtle doves
and a partridge in a pear tree.
Despite our Lady’s pleadings, our Lord was back on the fields
by Morecambe Bay the next day. I expect that he had seen many
swans there and could not restrain himself from going
back and shooting some of them. At this
stage, I should say that I don’t agree with the usual interpretation
that, for example, on the seventh day our Lord shot not only seven
swans but also six geese, five pheasants, four black grouse, three
French hens, two pigeons, and a partridge. I believe those items are
mentioned again just as a reminder. It would have been physically
impossible for our Lord to get up on the hills and along by the bay
in one day, without a car.
On the eighth day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
eight maids a-milking,
seven swans a-swimming,
six geese a-laying,
five golden rings,
four calling birds,
three French hens,
two turtle doves
and a partridge in a pear tree.
Of course, our Lord did not shoot eight maids. That would
be a preposterous accusation. He was only interested in shooting
anything that flew. The original version was ‘eight mallards
a-quacking’. Over the years the mallards became ‘ma’ards’ and
hence ‘maids’. The ‘a-quacking’ then became ‘a-milking’ to make
it a little less nonsensical. Our Lady’s pantry was now overflowing
with all the pheasants, grouse, geese, swans and ducks.
On the ninth day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
nine ladies dancing,
eight maids a-milking,
seven swans a-swimming,
six geese a-laying,
five golden rings,
four calling birds,
three French hens,
two turtle doves
and a partridge in a pear tree.
On the ninth day our Lord shot nine Lady Amherst pheasants.
Lady Amherst was none too pleased. She had brought them back
from China to adorn her
garden, not to be shot. But
our Lord did not differentiate
- to him, a pheasant was a
pheasant and therefore existed
only to be shot. Lady Amherst
sympathised with our Lady Mossdale,
who was by now approaching
the end of her tether: “My Lord
Amherst is the same. Out all
hours, shooting anything that
flies. It is an addiction. They
need our help and support,
poor dears.”
On the tenth day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
ten lords a-leaping,
nine ladies dancing,
eight maids a-milking,
seven swans a-swimming,
six geese a-laying,
five golden rings,
four calling birds,
three French hens,
two turtle doves
and a partridge in a pear tree.
Here the ‘lords’ are lapwings, whose leaping, tumbling flight
was thought to resemble our Lord’s antics after a few drinks,
invariably taken after a successful shoot and before an unsuccessful
one. Lapwing are no longer shot, partly because there are fewer of
them and partly because modern gamesmen do not have our Lord’s
supreme skill. By now, our Lady had had enough: “This cannot go
on. It is not sustainable. You have shot everything that is worth
shooting. Our cooks need four-and-twenty blackbirds to make a
decent pie. What do you expect them to do with ten lapwings?”
On the eleventh day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
eleven pipers piping,
ten lords a-leaping,
nine ladies dancing,
eight maids a-milking,
seven swans a-swimming,
six geese a-laying,
five golden rings,
four calling birds,
three French hens,
two turtle doves
and a partridge in a pear tree.
Our Lord did not listen. He was out again the next day, returning
with eleven pipits, which provided an even less substantial feast
than ten lapwings. The pipits do, however, demonstrate what a
hotshot our Lord was. It takes considerably more skill to shoot a
tiny pipit than it does to down a grouse. The ‘piping’, incidentally,
is short for ‘piping cold’. Nowadays, we have the expression ‘piping
hot’ but in the 19th century all pipes were cold. Our Lady begged
him one last time not to shoot any more birds.
On the twelfth day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
twelve drummers drumming,
eleven pipers piping,
ten lords a-leaping,
nine ladies dancing,
eight maids a-milking,
seven swans a-swimming,
six geese a-laying,
five golden rings,
four calling birds,
three French hens,
two turtle doves
and a partridge in a pear tree.
On the twelfth day our Lord came back with twelve woodpeckers,
probably great-spotted, although they are lesser, or fewer, now.
Our Lady was nonplussed but our Lord explained that there were
no more birds on the fells to shoot because the ominous drumming
of the woodpeckers had, he said, scared all the birds away. So he
had shot the woodpeckers. Our Lady realised that it did not occur
to him to attribute the absence of birds to the fact that he and his
friends had shot them all. Our Lord was beyond help. No bird in
the land was safe.
On the thirteenth day of Christmas
his true love gave to him thirteen bullets killing.
Photos:
Lord Mossdale (Lady Mossdale (seated) refused to accompany the Lord
on his shoots after this occasion when she was expected to sit in the mud for four
hours with loud bangs in her ear every minute. The other two seated look none to happy as well,
although the two shooters are having a spiffing time).
Black grouse.
Lady Amherst pheasant.
Ramblings
Saunterings
© John Self, Drakkar Press, 2024-
Top photo: Rainbow over Kisdon in Swaledale;
Bottom photo: Ullswater