I talk to Melcombe Regis Rotary, Weymouth. Dorset, UK
I talk to the Melcombe Regis Rotary about my past and Zzipp Media at the Hotel Prince Regent, Weymouth on the 18th March 2015.
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Doddington Community Garden big clean-up
Dig for the Dodd! People came to support the community garden on Doddington Estate on the 13th of August 2011 to clear up overgrown parts of garden, plant vegetables, and meet local residents.
The Gaol Song - Luke Kelly & The Dubliners
A rare recording of The Gaol Song (or The Treadmill Song) performed by Luke Kelly & The Dubliners.
Note on The Gaol Song from The Penguin Book of English Folk Songs edited by Ralph Vaughan and A.L. Lloyd
English tradition includes many crime songs but relatively few dealing with life in prison. The broadside ballads of Bellevue, Wakefield, and Kirkdale gaols, published by Bebbington of Manchester and Harkness of Preston, all derive from the same 'original', issued several times in London by the Catnach Press and it's successors as The County Gaol. A different ballad, called Durham Gaol, said to be the work of the pitman-balladeer Thomas Armstrong, was current on Tyneside till recently (see A.L. Lloyd: Come All Ye Bold Miners). Each of these bears some relation to our Gaol Song, of which two versions, with separate melodies, were collected by H. E. D. Hammond in Beaminster, Dorset in June 1906.
The Gaol Song Lyrics
Step in young man, I know your face
It's nothing in your favour
A little time I'll give to you
Six months unto hard labour
To my hip fol the day, hip fol the day
To my hip fol the day, for the digee oh
At six o'clock our turnkey comes in
With a bunch of keys all in his hand
Come, come, my lads, step up and grind
Tread the wheel till breakfast time
At eight o'clock our skilly comes in
Sometimes thick and sometimes thin
But devil a word we must not say
It's bread and water all next day
At half past eight the bell doth ring
Into the chapel we must swing
Down on our bended knees to fall
The Lord have mercy on us all
At nine o'clock the jangle rings
All on the trap, boys, we must spring
Come, come, my lads, step up in time
The wheel to tread and the corn to grind
Now Saturday's come, I'm sorry to say
Sunday is our starvation day
Our hobnail boots and tin mugs too
They are not shined nor they will not do
Now six long months are over and past
I will return to my bonny, bonny lass
I'll leave the turnkeys all behind
The wheel to tread and the corn to grind