Really interesting and for info the Jagger referred to was a pack horse like the Dales pony breed. There is a well known packhorse route called Jagger's Way. Sent from my iPhone > On 2 Apr 2014, at 23:37, "Barb Ontario Canada" <[email protected]> wrote: > > POEM. > > A MALLERSTANG WEDDING FIFTY YEARS AGO. > > The following lines, descriptive of a Mallerstang wedding in former times, > were written by an old lady, still living, some fifty years ago or > upwards.... > ______________________________________________________________ > > My muse seems half inclined, unasked, unbidden, > To sing a Mallerstang (or Mostyn) wedding; > And should I let her give her whim full scope, > The folks in Mallerstang would not, I hope, > Pronounce me a censorious meddling fool, > And treat my simple song with ridicule; > For sure I would not willingly offend ‘em; > I’d sooner burn those lines when I have pen’ed ‘em. > Soon as a couple have agreed to wed, > Straightway a friendly messenger is sped > To bid their friends and neighbours far and wide > To come and see the Gordian-knot fast tied, > And taste the cheer which weddingers provide. > Then, early on the long-expected morn, > The youthful couple do themselves adorn > In gay apparel, and the Scripture says > They did the same in patriarchal days. > Anon, their friends arrive with blithesome faces, > Nor have they left at home their smartest dresses, > For snowy robes adorn each blooming fair, > And curls and feathers flutter in the air: > Wide contrast to the nags on which they ride, > Which, by the bye, shew very little pride. > In their long flowing manes you may behold > How many years it is since they were pol’d; > Indeed, from heat to tail, they’re clothed in hair, > Almost as shaggy as a Greenland bear. > But though this is the meagre plight of most, > Some others may some share of beauty boast; > It would be wrong to rob them of their merit, > And say that no one rides a tit of spirit. > Some ride their own; some borrow one, of course; > No matter how, – each guest must have a horse ! > Being all arrived, and everything agreed, > To Church, pell-mell, they gallop off full speed. > The few on mettled steed outstrip the wind---- > Those on a tardy jagger lag behind; > Yet these, unwilling to be distanced quite, > Apply the whip and spur with all their might. > The foremost few look back with scornful leer, > While shouts and peals of laughter rend the air. > O’er hill and dale, through thick and thin, they drive > Until at Kirkbystephen they arrive; > Then down the street, with clattering noise and din, > They bend their courses to some well-known inn, > Where they dismount and cheerfully regale > Themselves with wine, or punch, or nut-brown ale. > And then to Hymen’s shrine they all repair, > While on all sides the people gaze and stare, > And every quizzing looker-on expresses > Their thoughts about their persons or their dresses. > With open book, the priest officious stands, > Ready to bind the matrimonial bands, > And hear them plight their faith and pledge their vows > Of mutual love, till death those bonds shall loose. > There Hymen rivets on those sacred fetters > Which binds alike the clown and man of letters > To nourish, cherish, and support his wife > Through all the strange vicissitudes of life; > Which binds each married woman to obey > And yield, submissive, to her husband’s sway..... > A clause methinks too rigid and severe, > Unless all husbands men of feeling were. > ‘Twould be no hardship to obey a man > Who exercised his sway by wisdom’s plan; > But to be subjugated by this rule > To “honour and obey” a silly fool > Is more than mortal woman can endure; > Or e’er fulfill with promptitude, I’m sure...... > But stay -----‘tis quite impolitic, I grant, > For me on this subject to descant; > For if these lines by man should e’er be read, > It will, no doubt, with irony, be said, > “This logic was composed by an Old Maid.” > So from such criticism I’ll refrain, > And to the happy pair return again. > > They leave the Church, and, smiling, bend their courses > Unto the ale-house, where they left their horses. > The blushing bride and bridegroom lead the van; > Next follow the brides-maid, and bridegroom’s man, > While friends and neighbours follow in the rear, > Each lover whispering in his lassie’s ear. > Some lead their sweethearts leaning on their arm, > And in the modern custom see no harm, > While other swains prefer the ancient taste, > And throws one arm around his dearie’s waist. > > Again they push the sparkling goblet round > Or briskly foot it to the violin’s sound, > Or spend an hour in all that jovial mirth > To which a Mostyn-wedding still gives birth. > At length, they think of home, and well they may, > For while the party here carousing stay, > The marriage feast is oft completely spoil’d..... > The roast is pine’d.....the pudding’s too much boil’d. > ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ > Barb, Ontario, Canada. > > > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message

Thanks for that info, Jane ! I wondered, also, about (Mostyn); what I can find is it probably indicates a location in Westmorland, as there is a Mostyn Hall Bed and Breakfast advertised. Barb, Ontario, Canada. <<<<<-----Original Message----- From: Jane Houghton>>>>>>