Dalton

Dalton Magna, Dalton Parva,

Dalton Brook.

A Personal Website by

John Doxey.

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Bill Brown the Poacher 1769

 

 A song was written about 'Bill Brown the Poacher' the song was written by a blind fiddler player Johnny Gibbons of Darnall , some years later  another song was written 'The Death of Bill Brown ' which took place at Dalton Brook .

Apparently old Bill with two of his mates Ned Greaves and George Miller from Sheffield decided to help themselves to some of the local game, unfortunately for our three Sheffielders the then gamekeeper of Saville Finch of Thrybergh Hall, one John Shirteliff caught them and shot poor old Bill. John Shirtliff was charged but acquitted at York.

 


BILL BROWN, THE POACHER. 


In seventeen hundred and sixty-nine
As plainly doth appear then,
A bloody scene was felt most keen
Till death it did draw near then;
Of poor Bill Brown, of Brightside Town,
A lad of well known fame then,
Who took delight, both day and night,
To trace the timid hare then.
With wires strong they march'd along,
Unto brave Thriberg town then,
With nut-brown ale that ne'er did fail,
And many a health went round then;
Bright luna bright did shine that night,
To the woods they did repair then,
True as the sun their dogs did run,
To trace the lofty hare then.
A lofty breeze amongst the trees,
With shining he came on them,
Like Cain he stood seeking for blood,
With his bayonet and his gun then;
Then he did charge with shot quite large,
George Miller did him spy then;
This rogue's intent was fully bent,
One of us poor lads should die then.
His cruel hand he did command
That instant for to fire then,
And so with strife took poor Brown's life,
Which once he thought entire then.
His blood aloud for vengeance cried,
The keeper he came on then,
Like cruel Cain up to him came,
And so renew'd his wounds then.
Now this dear soul ne'er did control,
Nor think that man no ill then;
But to Dalton Brook his mind was struck,
While his clear blood did spill then;
For help he cried, but was denied,
No one there nigh him stood then;
And there he lay till break of day,
Dogs licking his dear blood then.
Farewell dear heart, now we must part,
From wife and children dear then;
Pity my doom, it was too soon,
That ever I came here then;
Farewell unto the brave dear lads
Whoever range the fields then,
This cruel man's murdering hand,
Has caused me for to yield then.
In grief and pain till death it came,
To embrace his dear soul then,
Who took its flight to heaven straight,
Where no man can control them.
The country round heard of the sound,
Of poor Brown's blood being spilt then,
Twas put in vogue to find the rogue,
That justice might be done then.
With irons strong they march'd along
Unto York castle fair then;
In a dark cell was doom'd to dwell,
Till the judge he did appear then;
George Miller bold, as I've been told,
Deny it here who can then,
He ne'er was loth to take his oath,
Brown was a murder'd man then.
There was a man who there did stand,
Whose heart did shake amain then;
But gold did fly they can't deny,
Or at Tyburn he'd been hung then.
They'd ne'er been bold to hear it told
To hear of Shirtly's doom then.
The judge put it off to God on high,
Or they might have judged him soon then.
There was brave Ned Greaves never did fail,
To crown poor Bill Brown's name then,
George Miller brave defies each knave,
That travels o'er the plain then;
With sword and gun now we will run,
Though the law it doth maintain them,
Yet poor Brown's blood lost in the wood
For vengeance cries amain then.

 

1770

 John Shirtcliff, game-keeper to Savile Finch of Thriberg, Efq; charged with shooting William Brown, after a trial of above eleven hours, was acquitted.
 

 

 

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