Happy New Year!
I thought you might like something old for a new year. It’s a short folk play from 1841 from Peebles, in Scotland, called “Galatian, a New-Year Play”, collected by Robert Chambers. It originally came from the Select Writings of Robert Chambers, Vol. VII, Edinburgh, Chambers, 1841, Vol.VII, pp.299-384. My source, however, is one of the best places for folk plays on the internet: https://folkplay.info/ I love this site. It’s been around for a long time, and is full of amazing resources. It’s tremendously useful for fantasy writers and for people who build worlds for games.
Why this? I have had a long interest in folk plays, mumming, regional traditions and a whole heap of related stuff. I was going to introduce you to one of my novels today (here’s a link, just in case someone feels disconsolate at missing the introduction https://bookshop.org/a/1838/9781034584728) and instead I thought you might enjoy one of the many thousands of reasons there are morris dancers in that novel. I’ll tell you about the novel another day. This is the new year, and you deserve something special.
{Galatian, a New-Year Play}
{Talking Man enters}
Talking Man
Haud away rocks, and haud away reels,
Haud away stocks and spinning wheels,
Redd room for Gorland, and gi’e us room to sing,
And I will show you the prettiest thing
That ever was seen in Christmas time.
Muckle head and little wit, stand ahint the door;
But sic a set as we are, ne’er were here before.
Show yourself, Black Knight!
{Black Knight enters}
Black Knight
Here comes in Black Knight, the great King of Macedon,
Who has conquered all the world save Scotland alone.
When I came to Scotland my heart it grew cold,
To see a little nation so stout and so bold –
So stout and so bold, so frank and so free:
Call upon Galatian to fight wi’ me.
{Galatian enters}
Galatian
Here comes I, Galatian., Galatian is my name;
Sword and buckler by my side, I hope to win the game.
Black Knight
The game, sir, the game, sir, it is not in your power;
I’ll hash you and slash you in less than half an hour.
My head is made of iron, my heart is made of steel,
And my sword is a Ferrara, that can do its duty weel.
{They fight, and Galatian is worsted, and falls.}
Down Jack, down to the ground you must go.
Oh! Oh! what is this I’ve done?
I’ve killed my brother Jack, my father’s only son.
Talking Man
Here’s two bloody champions that never fought before;
And we are come to rescue him, and what can we do more?
Now, Galatian he is dead, and on the floor is laid,
And ye shall suffer for it, I’m very sore afraid.
Black Knight
I’m sure it was not I, sir, I’m innocent of the crime.
‘Twas this young man behind me, who drew the sword sae fine.
Young Man
Oh, you awful villain! to lay the blame on me;
When my two eyes were shut, sir, when this young man did die.
Black Knight
How could your two eyes be shut, when you were looking on?
How could your two eyes be shut, when their swords were drawn?
Is there ever a doctor to be found?
Talking Man
Call in Dr Brown,
The best in all the town.
{Doctor enters}
Doctor
Here comes in as good a doctor as ever Scotland bred,
And I have been through nations, a-learning of my trade-,
And now I’ve come to Scotland all for to cure the dead.
Black Knight
What can you cure?
Doctor
I can cure the rurvy scurvy,
And the rumble-gumption of a man that has been seven years in his grave or more;
I can make an old woman of sixty look like a girl of sixteen.
Black Knight
What will you take to cure this dead man?
Doctor
Ten pounds.
Black Knight
Will not one do?
Doctor
No.
Black Knight
Will not three do?
Doctor
No.
Black Knight
Will not five do?
Doctor
No.
Black Knight
Will not seven do?
Doctor
No.
Black Knight
Will not nine do?
Doctor
Yes, perhaps nine may do, and a bottle of wine.
I have a little bottle of inker-pinker [small beer] in my pocket.
{Aside to Galatian} Take a little drop of it.
By the hocus-pocus, and the magical touch of my little finger,
Start up, John.
{Galatian rises and exclaims:}
Galatian
Oh, my back!
Doctor
What ails your back?
Galatian
There’s a hole in it you may turn your nieve ten times round in it.
Doctor
How did you get it?
Galatian
Fighting for our land.
Doctor
How many did you kill?
Galatian
I killed a’ the loons but ane, that ran, and wadna stand.
{The whole party dance, and Galatian sings.}
Oh, once I was dead, sir, but now I am alive,
And blessed be the doctor that made me revive.
We’ll all join hands, and never fight more,
We’ll a’ be good brothers, and we have been before.
{Judas enters with bag}
Judas
Here comes in Judas, Judas is my name;
If ye put not silver in my bag, for guidsake mind our wame!
When I gaed to the castle yett, and tirled at the pin,
They keepit the keys o’ the castle, and wadna let me in.
I’ve been i’ the east carse,
I’ve been i’ the west carse,
I’ve been i’ the carse of Gowrie,
Where the clouds rain a’ day pease and beans
And the farmers theek houses wi’ needles and prins.
I’ve seen geese gawn on pattens,
And swine fleeing i’ the air like peelings o’ ingons!
Our hearts are made o’ steel, but our bodies sma’ as ware –
If you’ve onything to gi’e us, stap it in there.
{All sing}
[All]
Blessed be the master o’ this house, and the mistress also,
And all the little babies that round the table grow-,
Their pockets full of money, the bottles full of beer –
A merry Christmas, guizards, and a happy New Year.
Somewhere fairly recently I was in a conversation with someone (can you tell I cannot for the life of me remember when, or with whom, the conversation occurred?) about the why of writing. The person I was talking with spoke pretty definitively about why writers write, and while her points (I can remember it was a woman I was speaking with, maybe by the time I finish this post I’ll remember her name) were valid, I thought they were also limited. As if she could not imagine reasons to write that were not hers. Which is the crux of why I write. I’m trying to figure out why people do what they do. It’s why I read, too: to understand.