Thorneymoor Woods

The warmest September day since 2006 has been an open invitation to get outside and enjoy the rays of the sun while we still can. Out in the woods and the hedgerows, autumn's setting in quickly.

I'll leave you with a traditional East Midland folk song, performed by Anne Briggs.


In Thorneymoor Woods in Nottinghamshire,
Thorneymoor Woods in Nottinghamshire,
Three game-keepers' houses stood three-square,
About a mile from each other they were
Orders they were to look out for the deer
Fol de rol, tora lie day

Now me and me dogs went out one night
The moon and the stars were shining bright
O'er hedges and ditches, fields and stiles
With my three dogs trotting close by me heels
To catch a fat buck down in Thorneymoor fields
Fol de rol, tora lie day

That very first night we had bad luck
One of me very best dogs got shot
He come to me all bloody and lame
Right sorry I was for to see the same
And not being able to follow the game
Fol de rol, tora lie day

I searched his wounds and found them slight
'Twas done by a game-keeper out of spite
Well I'll take a stick right tight in me hand
I'll search the woods till I find that man
I'll thrash his old hide right well if I can
Fol de rol, tora lie day

Now I come home and I went to bed
Limping Jack went out in me stead
O'er hedges and ditches, fields and stiles
He found a buck lying on the ground
My little dog has gave him the death-wound
Fol de rol, tora lie day

And Limping Jack he cut the buck's throat
Tied his legs with good stout rope
And I had a laugh to see Limping Jack
Hopping along with that buck on his back
Carried it just like a pedlar's pack
Fol de rol, tora lie day

Now we got us a butcher to skin the game
Likewise another to sell the same
And the very first joint as we offered for sale
Was to an old girl she sold bad ale
She had us young lads up in Nottingham gaol
Fol de rol, tora lie day

Nottingham assizes are due and aye,
Us three young lads we go to be tried
But the magistrate laughed her all to scorn
He says the old bugger should be forsworn
Into little pieces torn
Fol de rol, tora lie day

Nottingham assizes are gone and past
Us three young lads go free at last
As the bucks and the does will never roam free
A poacher's life is the life for me
A poacher I will always be
Fol de rol, tora lie day