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Rosedale Murder

from Trappy Lad by Tony Morris

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about

Based on a true incident in the mines in Rosedale, North Yorkshire.

lyrics

Eighteen hundred and sixty nine,
Rosedale East Mine,
A bright day but one of those days
When you feel the thunder in the air.
Below the ground, where the iron was found
The horses knew and fratched and chewed around.

The drivers drove their horses and
The wagons rolled along
But crash, and grind and sparks behind
One wagon was derailed.

From a boy, Abraham Allison had worked his way up.
Now, at twenty, a fine strapping man,
Horse drivers overlooker, he had a plan
To go all the way to the top.

He’d not many friends, his being a gaffer,
But William Turner was not awed by him,
And down in the Village, they’d have a sly gin
And a crack about lasses, which one might give in.

And here was the reason they later fell out
For William knew things
Abraham would not want put about.
Young Horse Driver, William had a grip,
So he thought, on Abraham’s whip hand,
When work was to do, as Abraham’s best friend.

This was not as Abraham saw it,
Village was Village and Mine was Mine’
At work there could be no favourites,
A point, on that day when the wagon derailed,
He wanted to underline when he ordered
Young William to get the wagon back on track.
When William said, “No,” Abraham,
Without a second thought, came back
With a mighty snouter and William,
Gaffered, grumbling, truculent,
Got the wagon on line and went off
Further down the mine.



Ten minutes he was back, driving his nag.
As he passed Abraham he upped with his oak spragg
And struck out. Abraham fell, cut and bleeding,
Where the horses always trod,
In their muck and in the dusty grit and grime.
They carried Abraham out.
William was arrested for his crime, assault.

Days later the news reached William,
In Pickering gaol that Abraham was dead
Of tetanus. Now they said the charge
Was ‘wilful murder’ .

In September, at York Assize,
They found William ‘Guilty’,
In those days no surprise for a working lad,
No defence, no appeal, no hope.
The black cap went on over the judges wig.
Sentenced to hang at the end of a rope.

But this was 1869 and he was lucky.
The year before he’d have danced his last jig,
Rasping his breath, staining his breeches
Before a gasping, leering crowd.
Far from Rosedale Village,
Abraham’s grave, the Moor, the Mine.
This year, the felon would die
Behind the Castle walls, unseen.
A shroud and an unmarked grave
For William Turner, seventeen.

credits

from Trappy Lad, released October 29, 2014

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all rights reserved

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Tony Morris Whitby, UK

TONY MORRIS is an Own Brand Performer and Entertainer who performs his own songs and music.".
Currently running Covideo Folk Club Facebook Group.
About 200 rough and ready warts and all videos on his Facebook Profile Site, Be amazed. ... more

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