Thrybergh Ravenfield Dalton

South Yorkshire England

            Pronounced locally Thrybur  Old English Triberg

Webmaster John Doxey

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"The School " a Poem
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A poem by James Ross 1817

I would like to say welcome to the children and Staff of the School who are using the site to research the history of Thrybergh. Please consider this your page, contact me should you have any questions, or would like to add information on this page.

Please note this is not an official School site, anyone wishing to contact the School should do so via the School contact  information


James Ross ' The Thrybergh Bard' became the Headmaster of the Thrybergh Fullerton School in 1811and left behind amongst other things an amusing poem written about the day his pupils rebelled. Simply called 'The School'  the poem informs us that little has changed in the behaviour of  boy's throughout the centuries.




Near to the center of the Vill,
There stands on gently sloping hill,
A rural Cot of noisy fame,
Y'elepe'd a School a well known name,
To all the country round about,
'And 'tis no wonder-such a rout,
Is heard at times, that babel's tongues,
And all the mix'd confused sounds,
Of bedlam, or a pack of Hounds,
Let loose could ne'er exceed the noise,
And racket made by ranting Boys,
If Master's absent;- in a trice,
When he appears, they're still as mice,
And quickly to their slate or book,
Begin th' appointed task or took,
With eye askauence, towards the chair,
Where Mentor sits with brow severe,
And Hazel sceptre in right hand,
Or leath'ren strap to keep command,
With dignity in his high station,
Enforcing strict subbordination,
'Tis said the Pythagorian squire,
A five years silence did require,

Of all that crav'd his instruction,
And scientifical induction,
But if within that time was heard,
From pupil but a single word,
Expulsion follow'd with disgrace,
And soon another took his place.
Oh those noisy young Thrybergians,
Were like those silent Magna Grecians,
But vains the task to bring about,
Unless you took their tongues quite out,
Crotonians were like willow bending,
Thrybergians like Oak not condescending.
Whene'er a statutes feast or fair,
Or any holiday drew near,
Be sure some deep laid plot is hatching,
By whispers, sly looks, nods, and watching,
With painful anxious expectation,
Until sage mentor quits his station.

And soon as e'er he turns his back,
Bang goes the door with violent clap!
Then straight begins the revel - rout,
The signal's given for all to shout,
When bolt is shot, and all made fast,
The sticks are broke, and burnt with haste,
While some are dancing, some are jumping,
Some are shouting, others thumping,
Some are busily inditing
Th' grand petition; some are fighting;
They must act Master in their turn;
While some are laughing, others mourn;
In such a state of wild confusion,
To think they'd lost their brain by fusion,
Would be a natural conclusion.
At length to orders call'd
And silence to each other bawl'ed;
When this obtain'ed and ceas'd each caper,
They thro' the keyhole thrust the paper,


And pray for pardon in mock strain,
Which if not granted then again,
They'll all repeat with double noise,
As all will shout both Girls and Boys.
The Master yields on this condition,
To grant some part of their petition,
That everyone who is a suitor,
Must be more diligent in future,
The promise given, then out all run,
Huzza my lads we've nobly won,
Exulting to each other say,
We have won a holiday, Huzza!
Thus wild uproar , and reason cool,
By turns bear sway in every School.




You can find the story of James Ross and more of his poetry here


Many thanks to Heather Palmer of Australia a descendant of the poet James Ross for providing the poem






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I have no affiliation  with any Trade Union, Political body, or organization regarding the information on this site. All information on this site is Factual and correct to the extent of my knowledge. There is no intent to cause offence to any individual. Should you spot an error please let me know  and that error will be corrected.


This site is the result of over 7 years research, and compilation, should you wish to use any of the content for publication of literature please contact me. The poetry and life of James Ross, the story of St. Leonard's Cross, and other items on this site were compiled, and first published on this site in their present context as a study of Thrybergh. If you use this site as a source, out of courtesy, please give credit where it is due as I have done on this site where appropriate.
All text and pages as formatted and presented on this site Copyright John Doxey and may not be reproduced under any circumstances without consent. Photos, and information Copyright to Primary Sources where applicable