Tag: poems

Let’s hear it for the Boyes!

The 1927 wedding at St Hilda’s Church, Danby featuring Tom Boyes, wearing a black bowler hat and riding the horse on the far right. He was the subject of a volume of dialect poetry written by Danby poet Erimus, otherwise known as Sophie-Jean’s great-grandfather, Bill Fall.

 

Last week I mentioned Sophie-Jean Fall who was searching for some books of dialect poetry by her great-grandfather, William E Fall (Bill), who wrote under the pseudonym Erimus. A poet herself, she was desperate to find copies but found no trace of them until she came across a 2007 Countryman’s Diary column written by my dad which mentioned that he had four volumes of Erimus’ work.

My own internet sleuthing revealed there had been a total of five books printed between 1976 and 1981 and after a good old rummage around my dad’s study and library, my brother and I managed to find three of the books. The fourth is still missing.

I could not wait to email Sophie-Jean to reveal we had found ‘Tom Boyes, Deealsman’, ‘Queer Fooaks, Tykes!’ and ‘Poetry for t’Peasantry’. “Not only that,” I wrote, “but in one copy were some letters (one from your great-grandfather, one from the lady who sent the books to my dad, and a letter back to her from my dad). The lady in question (a Miss Mitchell) was in her 90s, so is likely to have passed away by now.”

I also discovered, from reading the letters and the preface of the book, that Tom Boyes was a renowned local equestrian, member of the Farndale Hunt, and great friend of Bill. Boyes was born in Castleton in 1882 and ‘Tom Boyes, Deealsman’ was published in 1977, 13 years after his death. Miss Mitchell had included a photo of her aunt’s wedding at St Hilda’s Church, Danby, which she attended as a bridesmaid in 1927 and Mr Boyes appears on horseback, resplendent in his hunting finery.

Every book we found is signed by Bill, and printed in the front of each one is a personal dedication. I wondered if Sophie-Jean knew the names. My favourite appeared in the last book (Poetry for t’Peasantry’, 1981) and reads: ‘To our seven bonnie grand-bairns: Moira, Becky and Jonty; Jamie and Georgina; Nichola and ‘Vicky Toody’’. I assumed one would be Sophie-Jean’s mum or dad. Many of the poems were accompanied by lovely little sketches drawn by Bill.

I also deduced that the ‘biography’ that I referred to last week is not in fact a book, but simply the paragraph at the back of each volume of poetry explaining a bit more about the author (sometimes referred to as the Author’s Bio).

Sophie-Jean quickly replied, and was overcome by our fascinating discovery: “Words cannot express how grateful I am for your dedication to unearthing these volumes for me…On top of that, the mention of letters also has shocked me!”

She adds: “I know three of the grandchildren well! Jamie is my father, Jonty is I believe Jamie’s cousin and Georgina is my auntie, so Jamie’s younger sister. Their mention is awesome and after sending this email I will definitely send the image to him! Signatures too, add so much authenticity. The history part on Tom Boyes is very interesting as well – he must have been extremely revered: what an intriguing connection. Danby seems to have a crazily rich history. 1927 is so far back and I am really invested in history (as you can tell!) and especially the roaring twenties era so hearing that has also been a treat. I am truly in awe.”

She was also thrilled to read the biographical information at the back of the book: “Hearing that he also had a great artistic side was cool, because that’s what I’m headed to do in college this September for two years! It must run in the Falls!”

I felt that, as much as I’d like to keep them, the books should go back to Sophie-Jean, so that the family have a meaningful record of the legacy left by her great-grandfather, so I will post them on to her – once I have finished using them for my own research of course!

Sophie-Jean concludes: “I’m sure this newspaper’s readers will find this hunt extremely interesting…More thanks to you for dedicating such time and effort to finding these again for me. The joy is truly indescribable…I look forward to having them by my side and seeing all the works mentioned first-hand.”

I wonder if any readers have come across Bill Fall or Tom Boyes? Do get in touch if so (see below).

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 8th Aug and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 6th 2025

Falling write into our hands

The books of poems my brother and I found in my dad’s study and library after being contacted by the poet Bill Fall’s (AKA Erimus) great-granddaughter
Yorkshire dialect poet William E Fall, who wrote under the pseudonym ‘Erimus’.

 

A lady called Sophie-Jean Fall has been in touch asking about a Countryman’s Diary column that appeared in March 2007. She says: “The author mentions William Fall / Erimus, the Danby poet. He was my great-grandfather…I cannot find his biography or books online, and this article is the sole trace of his name when I Google it. If you can, please could you try find who the author was or who he contacted to garner William’s poetic works? It would mean the world to me if I could read such books.”

The answer to the first question is easy, of course, because it is my dad Peter Walker (AKA Nicholas Rhea), who wrote the Countryman’s Diary for 41 years from 1976 until 2017. I had not heard of William Fall or Erimus, but having looked up the column, I discovered the following (in my dad’s own words):

“Who was William E Fall, known to everyone as Bill? Under the pen-name of Erimus, William Fall wrote dialect poetry and prose, his dialect being that of the district around Danby in Cleveland. He was born at Easby in the Cleveland Hills and, in retirement, settled in a cottage near Danby Castle.

“A kindly correspondent from Durham has sent me four of his collections published in the late 1970s and early 1980s…To give a flavour of his sense of humour, part of his biography reads: ‘He worked successively as a grocer’s assistant, a farmer’s boy and wielded a pick and a shovel in a quarry until he heard a voice, as if from heaven, saying, ‘William, thou shalt work no more.’ So he joined Middlesbrough Police where he served for the next thirty years.’”

I was determined to find those books, and the next time I visited my mum, embarked on one of my favourite pastimes – ferreting around in my dad’s study for interesting stuff. I had a trusty sidekick in my brother, and we both set about the task with gusto.

We had no idea what the books looked liked, although I had found online references to them, including the names, when they were published and how many pages each had. That told us that they were likely very slim volumes, with no room for the title on the spine, making finding them in dad’s vast collection more tricky. There were five published in total and called ‘Wi’ t’Accent on Yorkshire’ (Feb 1976), ‘Tom Boyes, Deealsman’ (Feb 1977), ‘Queer Fooaks, Tykes!’ (Nov 1977), ‘Hermit and Recluse’ (June 1979) and finally ‘Poetry for t’Peasantry’ (Aug 1981).

To find anything in Dad’s study or library (a large bedroom with floor to ceiling shelves crammed with books), you have to know how his brain worked. Dad arranged his collection in loose categories (mostly unlabelled), and we started our search in his study by locating the section on ‘Yorkshire dialect’. Initially, it failed to bear fruit so we tried other sections, including ‘Biographies’ (seeing as his 2007 column mentioned a biography). Again we failed to find anything.

We then headed upstairs to the library and after scanning the numerous shelves found a section on poetry. Many of the greats nestled there, including Shakespeare, Tennyson, Wordsworth, Browning and Burns. To the far left of one shelf was a collection of pamphlets entitled ‘Transactions of the Yorkshire Dialect Society (YDS)’. They all looked very similar and unpromising, but nevertheless I took the pile of pamphlets and began to flick through.

And what do you know? Hidden right in the middle, barely visible, was a little green book. As soon as my eyes fell on it, my heart sang. It was ‘Queer Fooaks, Tykes!‘. After a little celebratory dance (and knowing there were another three to find), we kept going. A fruitless search in the library followed, but now we knew what one book looked like, we tried again in the study downstairs, and sure enough, hidden among dozens more copies of YDS pamphlets, we found ‘Poetry for t’Peasantry’ and finally, ‘Tom Boyes, Deealsman’. Each book is signed by the author and tucked inside in the last one was an old photo and some intriguing correspondence.

As I write, I have not yet told Sophie-Jean of my discovery, and cannot wait to pass on the good news. I wonder what she will say?

Look out for part two of this story next week to find out!

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 1st Aug and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 30th July  2025

A doze of the flew

 

Lemsip is helping me keep on top of my symptoms of the flue flew FLU!

 

When I took over writing this weekly column from my dad in 2017, I was aware that it came with a number of burdens. Firstly, to step into my dad’s shoes, which are substantial, secondly, to do that every single week for 52 weeks a year, and thirdly, to keep coming up with interesting stuff to write about.

 

Fulfilling those requirements becomes even more difficult when you are feeling below par. As I write this, I am laid low with my third fluey bug in as many months. The first was definitely the worst, with me confined to bed for three full days, unable to do much more than make a cup of tea without feeling like I’d just run a marathon. The second was similar, but I was confined to bed for just the one day. This time, I don’t think it is as bad, but I have been full of cold and sneezing for several days now, yet still able to carry on as normal. I went to bed last night thinking that by today (day 4) I would be beginning to get better, only to find I woke up feeling like a limp dishrag. Motivation and inspiration are staying well away, clearly afraid of the germs lingering in the air.

It is at times like these when I am more grateful than usual for readers getting in touch with their own stories and comments because it means I can shamelessly use what they send me to fill column inches.

This week it is Albert Elliot from Castleton who, in my time of need, has come galloping to my rescue. He writes: “I was amused to read (last year!) the comments in your article in December on spelling mistakes. I wondered if you had ever seen this piece of doggerel that I picked up somewhere many years ago (see below)?

“In the early days of computers, before predictive text, spellcheckers were used, or so I understand (I am not particularly computer literate). I think it quite amusing. I still struggle with correct spelling myself and often make blunders, although I don’t like predictive text systems as they ‘jump the gun’ and get in the way! As far as I know the piece is by that famous author called ‘Anon’.”

This is the poem that Albert sent me, and it did make me chuckle because it is very clever and takes me back to the early days of PCs and Microsoft Word. Ahh things were so much simpler then (were they?).

Spell-cheque

I halve a spelling chequer

It came with my pea sea

It plainly marques four my revue

Miss steaks I do knot sea

 

Eye strike a quay and type a word

And weight four it too say

Weather eye I am write or wrong

It shows me strait a weigh

 

As soon as a missed ache is maid

It nose bee fore two long

And eye can putt the error rite

It’s rare lea ever wrong

 

Eye have run this poem threw it

I am shore your pleased two no

The spelling’s perfect awl the weigh

My chequer tolled me sew!

As this poem demonstrates, and as those who have been caught out more recently by Autocorrect understand, it is never a good idea to rely on technology to do work you really ought to do yourself – that is to check your copy and messages before you send them to anyone else. Otherwise it could be very embarrassing indeed.

Albert also recalled a time when he met my dad: “Your father, Peter Walker, kindly came along to my writers’ group (the Egton Bridge Writers Group – still in full vigour and of which I remain a member) and gave us an interesting talk on himself and his writing career…Although this was a long time ago, I remember the talk was fascinating and thoroughly enjoyed by the whole group. He has left a lasting legacy with his Heartbeat stories and other Yorkshire writings.”

I never tire of hearing about tales involving my dad, many of which I would never know if people didn’t get in touch.

So very many thanks to Albert, and on that note, I’m off back to bed with a Lemsip. Normal service will, I hope, resume next week.

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me via the ‘Contact’ tab at the top right of this page.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 24th Jan and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 22nd Jan 2025