Fair Betsy of Deptford

Fellow local blogger Transpontine has, over the years, been collecting and posting South London Songs. Fair Betsy of Deptford, alternatively Pretty Betsy of Deptford, appears in his lists as in several others. The text of the song is difficult to find, but back in 2004 I downloaded an image file of the song. I cannot remember from where I downloaded it, so many apologies to the owner of the image file.

Come all you pretty fair maids of every degree,
I pray give attention awhile unto me
The story of a fair maid to you I will unfold
Pretty Betsy of Deptford and her young sailor bold

Pretty Betsy was handsome and fair to be seen,
Her cheeks were like roses her age scarce sixteen,
Beloved and respected by all we are told,
And admired by William a young sailor bold

She was courted by William her faithful true-love,
And their vows to each other they offered above,
Their secrets of love they did often unfold
Fair Betsy of Deptford and her young sailor bold

It was early one morning before it was day,
Young Betsy, cried William, I must now away,
To cross the salt ocean for honor and gold
Then be constant & true to your young sailor bold

The anchor is weigh'd they are spreading the sails
The wind it blows fresh I must weather the gales
Take this ring dearest Betsy of emerald gold
As a token of love from your young sailor bold

They kiss'd & they parted tears fell from their eyes
Oh, William don't leave me fair Betsy she cries,
Don't venture your life on the ocean for gold
Stay at home with your Betsy my young sailor bold

Then to sea went young William thro storms & rain
And left pretty Betsy a weeping in vain
Eight years in a valley she wandered we are told
While round the world sail'd the young sailor bold

She wept and she mourn'd & her bosom did burn
And she cried my dear William when will you return
You have left me bewailing your affections are sold
Then the ocean she watched for her young sailor bold

Eight years in the valley fair Betsy did roam
At length her young sailor to England came home.
And when that young William did Betsy behold
She cried I lament for my young sailor bold

Dearest Betsy cried William love don't you know me
Eight years from Betsy I have ploughed the salt sea
I have brought you fine presents some rubies & gold
Pray don't you know William your young sailor bold

She shrieked and wept in transports she cried
When she saw her dear William to stand by her side
Crying I value no presents no rubies or gold
I rejoice at the sight of my young sailor bold

To the church they repaired & and in wedlock was tied
Young William to Betsy his beautiful bride
In a neat little cottage resides we are told
Pretty Betsy of Deptford & her young sailor bold

CONVOYS WHARF

Saturday 5th December 2009 presented a rare opportunity to visit the Convoys Wharf site in Deptford and a small group of us took a stroll around this huge site. Site owners Hutchison Whampoa are intending to amend the current planning application in January 2010 and Saturday was a chance to see the new proposals. Contrary to what some people believe the previous proposals were never formally approved and no Planning Permission was ever granted.

Henry VII originally purchased the site in the late 15th century and his son Henry VIII opened his Royal Dockyard there in 1513. Construction of vessels for the Royal Navy continued until 1869 and then from 1871 until the First World War it was the location for the City Corporation's Foreign Cattle Market. Over 4 million live sheep and cattle were landed and slaughtered on site.

After the war the site lay unused until a director of the News of the World leased part of the site for importing newsprint in 1923. The entire site eventually came into the ownership of News International who continued to import paper until early 2000. News sold the site last year to Hutchison Whampoa for approximately half the price that had been agreed in 2005.

The exhibition and tours take place again on Tuesday 8th December between 2.00 - 8.00pm. Go to the north end of New King Street. Before or after the tour you can stop for a pint or two at the Dog and Bell in Prince Street near the corner with Watergate Street.

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The Allure of the East

Some fascinating London geography in Sunday's Brisbane Times.

Not only is Deptford just "around the corner" from Spitalfields and Whitechapel but violent crime is 20 times worse here than the oh so peaceful east end.

A note at the end of the article informs us that The writer was a guest of VisitBritain and British Airways.

The Return of Beau Geste

At 3.00pm on Sunday 4th October 2009 BBC Radio 4 will broadcast the first of two hour long episodes of Graeme Fife's new audio adaption of Beau Geste. The broadcast will be available live online and on BBC iPlayer for seven days. As previously mentioned, here and elsewhere author Percival Christopher Wren was born in Deptford in 1875 as plain Percy Wren.

The new radio production was commissioned by the BBC from Art and Adventure. It was recorded on location in Tunisia and was directed by Deptford's very own Willi Richards.

Percy Wren was born in Warwick Street, Deptford and the family subsequently moved to Malpas Road. Wren married Alice Lucie Shovelier in 1899 and in 1901 their daughter Estelle Lenore was born while they were living at the house shown above in Ommaney Road.

Jazz at the Herb Garden

Chill-out on Bank Holiday Monday afternoon with Lol Coxhill (above) and Friends including Steve Noble at the McMillan Herb Garden in Deptford. Gate opens 4.00pm and the music is about 4.30 - 6.00pm. A family afternoon of accessible jazz, bring your own refreshments but remember you can retire afterwards to the Dog and Bell or Bird's Nest. Free, but the hat will be passed round.

The McMillan Educational Herb Garden is on McMillan Street SE8 see map below:

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Homeward Bound - Dog and Bell 2

The sea shanty below appears in various magazines and books from the 1870s to the present day. Many of those who have published the song seem to have assumed that the references to the Dog and Bell and 'old Archer' are to some sort of every-pub and every-pub landlord respectively. A long discussion of various versions of the song appear here. Notably the song appeared, complete with references to the Dog and Archer in American Sea Songs and Chanteys (Chay, Frank published Norton 1948). However, as we now know Mr David Archer was the landlord of the Dog and Bell in the 1820s. See my post here .

The version below is from here, where a score can be found for the music. All we need to do now is find somebody to sing it.

Homeward Bound

Now to Blackwall Docks we bid adieu,
To Suke and Sal and Kitty too;
Our anchor's weighed, our sails unfurled,
We are bound to plough the watery world.
Huzzah, we are homeward bound (2x)

Now the wind blows hard from the east-nor'-east,
Our ship will sail ten knots at least;
The purser will our wants supply,
And while we've grog we'll never say die.

And should we touch at Malabar
Or any other port as far
The purser he will tip the chink,
And just like fishes we will drink.

And now our three years it is out,
lt's very near time we backed about;
And when we're home and do get free,
Oh won't we have a jolly spree.

And now we haul into the docks
Where all those pretty girls come in flocks,
And one to the other they will say:
"Oh here comes Jack with his three years' pay"

And now we haul to the Dog and Bell
Where there's good liquor for to sell.
ln comes old Archer with a smile,
Saying: "Drink, my lads, it's worth your while."
For I see you are homeward bound,
I see you are homeward bound.

But when our money's all gone and spent,
And none to be borrowed nor none to be lent,
ln comes old Archer with a frown,
Saying: "Get up, Jack, let John sit down."
For I see you are homeward bound,
I see you are homeward bound.

This version originally From Oxford Book of Sea Songs, Palmer RG

I might have to move to Clapton, o

Nothing to do with Deptford, but Bad Dalston Short Stories is a wonder to behold. William McGonagall meets the urban edge.

Try this Haiku or this one. Plenty more besides.

The Question is: Should we have a Deptford equivalent, or should we leave it to the national press to write rubbish about us?