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Towton. The Taming of the Towton Shrew. Cast, in order of appearance. Narrator: Peter Algar Dame Helen: Helen Cox
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The Taming of the Towton Shrew Cast, in order of appearance. Narrator: Peter Algar Dame Helen: Helen Cox Kit: Tony HarrisonSquire Verity: Steve CleggSimon the Shrew: Mick DoggettThe tailor: Mark TaylorThe gunner: Des ThomasThe weaver: Mick WeaverThe painter: Neil WilsonRichard, Duke of Gloucester: Mike Wilson
IT was the month, in which the righteous Maide,Gave birth to a miracle of who it is saideIs our Redeemer, come to earthTo bring joy and love and a little mirth. Mistress Helen quoth;“Get up, for shame, this frosty mornUpon her wings presents the day unshorn.See how Aurora throws her fairFresh-quilted colours through the air :Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and seeThe ice bespangling meadow and tree.The holly has wept and bow'd toward the eastAbove an hour since : yet you not dress'd ; Nay ! not so much as out of bed? When all the birds have matins said And sung their thankful hymns, 'tis sin, Nay, profanation to keep in”.
HER husband Kit, blinked open one eyeAnd said, “Sweet Mistress, bother and fie! Why cannot I lie abed?The servants have the chickens fed.The ox is in the mistal lowing,Chanticlere is atop the pig-sty crowing.I have toiled hard this year for harvest and crop;Pray let me stay and lay aflop.I see no reason why I should stir,Why put you on your coat of fur?”
DAME Helen was not one to be deterred,“You’ll get up at once!” she stoutly averred.“This Christ mass we’re not staying here,We have an invite, so be of good cheer.Arise, we leave for Towton Hall,Come my betroth’d, we’ll have a ball.Rise and put on your doublet, and be seenTo come forth, like ivy in Lincoln green.And prithee, make sure you take good careTo drag a comb through that thatch, you call hair.Come forth; wash, dress, be brief in prayingFor I would leave without delaying.Come and make your saddle tight,Else we’ll not be there afore the dew-locks of night.”
ON their intended journey to proceedeKit took with him a jug of meade.For every mile that his destrier did takeA cheery libation did he partake.Very soon, the vessel was emptyAnd Dame Helen, scalded him aplenty.“Husband, know you we’ll mix with fine ladies and lords,They’ll not sup like you, though malmsey they can afford.I pray thee, do not belch at dinner,Or pick your ears, you wanton sinner.Our hosts I want to impressAnd I will sport my finest dress.Amidst the boughs of holly and myrtleI will wear a popinjay kirtle.”Kit raised his brow towards the sky.“What next throstles served in a pie?I would rather have cakes and ale.To celebrate my wassail.”
AFORE long they were at Towton Hall.Squire Verity did greet them one and all.“Come, bring with a noise,My merry, merry boys,The Yuletide log to the firing;While my good Dame , sheBids you all to be free;And drink to your heart’s desiring. Drink now the strong beer,Cut the white loaf here;The while the goose is roasting,For the rare mince pie,And the plums stand byAnd I’ll give you all a toasting.Drink your fill, I bear no illQuaff ale and mead till dawn.On the morrow a hog we’ll roastAnd the heavens will boast,On this day, Sweet Jesu our Saviour was born”.
QUITE soon our Helen, needed for to sueDirections for the privy, the netty, you know, the loo.For wine, in good measure she had quaffedWhile her Kit stood waiting with his cap doffed.But while on the garde-robe our lady true,Encountered, face-to-face, a tiny Shrew.“Waaah” she bellowed. “I’ve seen a mouseGet the ruddy thing outa this ‘ouse”.With hoses i-rounde her ankles flappingShe bolted from the loo and caught her attendant laughing.“I’m in need of a ‘ero” she screamed and she bellowed“And all I find is thee, tha big useless fellow”.
ALAS the poor shrew took fright and ran down into the hallNot wanting to be left in Dame Helen’s thrall.Down the length of the trenchers was the path he tookTwixt platters and pewter he ran amok.The taylor Mark, he said “Forsooth!Thou art the veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth.”“Hark, watch out” cried Des the Gunner,“The little varmint has done a runner.”Holding aloft a mighty cleaver,In his meaty fist was Mick the Weaver.Quoth he “I’ll rent the air with steelThe better the spurt of your blood to feel.”
SIMON, the shrew, for that was his nameSaid “I’m fed up with this ruddy game.I only came in to filch some pork,Let’s exit stage left and go and hide in York.”Across Cock Beck, the young rodent did scurry,Then the Wharfe at Taddy; he was in a dreadful hurry.“I tell thee” he squeaked “when that lady did unlaceHer velvet bodice but a breathing space,The passive air such odour then assum’d,As when to Jove, the goddess Venus went perfum’d,Whose pure immortal body doth transmitA scent that fills both heaven and earth with it.‘Twas camphor, lavender and spikenard;She must have spent a fortune on her credit card!These musks and these ambers don’t come cheap.When her Kit gets the bill; oh he’ll wail and he’ll weep!”
AFORE long, young Simon came to Micklegate Bar.He puffed and he panted: for a shrew, the journey was far.He spied a pub called the Eden BerriesAnd went in for a brown ale, with a cry of “No worries!”He sought some good company, and relations to fosterBut in the back room, there resplendent, was Richard, Duke of Gloucester.His portrait he was having painted.At the sight of such majesty, our young hero fair fainted.The Duke said “Who sneaks through the back door, soft!That scurrying noise I have heard oft.It’s a shrew I can’t stand them, call for the cat!”“S’wounds said young Simon, I know where this is at”And crawled up the Duke’s sleeve, for none was more bolderThan he who would rest on a fair prince’s shoulder.The painter, no laggard spied the unsightly lump.Consequently, the poor Duke was portrayed with a hump!
THE moral of this festive taleIs at Christmas take not too much ale,Or wine, or meade or syllabub.In all things moderation; there’s the rub.For strong drink is the roote of all evilLike an apple gnawed through with a wriggly weevil.Dame Helen and Kit will never againBe invited to posh do’s at Towton Plane.Prince Richard whilst he was made KingWas, by a tiny shrew, taught a lesson everlasting.Be kind to all creatures, great and smallLest pride come betwixt thee and a fall.Portrayed for posterity with a humpDid he ever know he’d look such a chump?Goodnight, adieu, we wish you wellTake cheer throughout this festive spell. THE END
