Two Songs from Essex

Jack London left school at the age of 12 to work as farmboy for 5s a week. This was in 1911. Three years later he joined the Essex Regiment in answer to ’Kitchener’s Call’ and remained with it for five years. He fled the post-war depression here only to meet it again in Australia whence he returned in 1925. For the last thirty years he has been driving buses for London Transport in Romford, Essex.

THE STROW UP-STRET

Loightly! loightly! treed wi’ fe’t,
Wen treedin’ on strow
Up-stret;
Cuz on ’is death-bed do lay,
“Ben th’ rayg an’ bon’ mun” soo ’ey say.
D’yow see thet waygon gooin’ by?
Well, thet be ’is huss! shud ’e doye?
Drorn ber Tinker, whose black fe’t,
Now treed on th’ strow Up-stret.

Sarms be sung roun’ owd Ben’s bed,
’Ands be laid on.
Th’ Book, be read,
Prayers be said, an’ wi’ oyels ’e be tret;
As loightly yow treed, th’ strow Up-stret.

But sing— Hellelujah! rejoice this day,
Fr “owd Ben ’as be’n spared”, ’ey say;
An’ soon be back on ’is owd fe’t,
Ter treed ware strow once laid Up-stret.

But now in churchyard, “owd Ben” lies,
And with him too, a custom dies;
For straw no more be trod by feet,
When near “Deaths’ door” up village street.

AN ESSEX CROW-SCARING SONG

W’en oi wor a booy, f’r a tanner a daay,
Oide scare th’ crows frum th’ corn, f’r Farmer Gray;
Ber rattlin’ moy clappuds, an’ hollerin’ away:
Hulloo! yow Black Devils, caa-ay!
Hull-oo-oo! caa-oo, caa-ay!.

CHORUS

Hulloo! yow Black Devils, hull-oo-oo hull-oo!
Hulloo! yow Black Devils, caa-oo-oo caa-oo!
Oil com’ wi’ moy clappuds, Ter knock yow down backuds!
Hull-oo-oo caa-oo-oo caa-ay! Hull-oo-oo caa-oo-oo caa-ay!

Hull-oo-oo hull-oo-oo, hull-oo-oo hull-oo!
Hull-oo-oo hull-oo-oo, hull-oo-oo hull-oo!

Oil com’ wi’ moy clappuds,
Ter knock yow down backuds!
Hulloo! yow Black Devils, caa-ay!
Hull-oo-oo caa-oo-oo caa-ay!

’En one day, in nex fi’ld; ’nother farmer did say:
“Jes foire moy gun booy, an’ frit! moy crows away”;
Soo oi foired, an’ flew backuds! Th’ crows flew away,
Ter th’ cornfi’ld o’ owd Farmer Gray,
Croyen:— caa-oo! caa-oo-oo, caa-ay!.

Now yow shud hev sen’n ’ow woild! wor owd Farme’ Gray,
As ’ey gobbled ’is corn croyen— caa-oo caa-ay!
’E swore! thet oi worn’t wuth a penny a day,
As th’ crows kep’ on croyen— caa-ay!
Caa-oo-oo caa-oo-oo caa-ay!.

Now om owd, an’ in moy ’second choild’ood’ ter day;
Soo om back loike a booy, scarin’ th’ crows away;
’Ough oi ken onny crooke loike a crow, soo ’ey say;
Yit wi’ clappuds, oi frit ’em! Away,
Crooken:— hulloo! Black Devils, caa-ey!...