APPENDIX. 



O. A contemporary ballad on a meeting held on Gatherley Moor in the first 



quarter of the Seventeenth Century. 



; You heard how Gatherly Race was run, 

 What horses lost, what horses won, 

 And all things else that there was done 



That day. 



Now for a new race I shall you tell 

 Was neither run for bowl or bell, 

 But for a great wager as it befell, 



Men say. 



Three gentlemen of good report 



This race did make, to make some sport 



To which great company did resort 



With speed. 



To start them then they did require 

 A gallant youth, a brave esquire, 

 Who yielded soon to their desire 



Indeed. 



They started well, as I heard tell, 



With 'Now ! St. George, God speed you well ! ' 



Let every man look to himsel 



For me. 



From Levern Hill to Popleton Ash 

 These horses run with spur and lash 

 Through mire and sand and dirt, dish dash 



All three. 



Bay Corbet first the start he got, 

 A horse well known, all firey hot, 

 But he full soon his fire had shot, 



What ho! 



For he was out of growth so sore 

 He could not run as heretofore 

 Nor ne'er will run so any more 



I trow. 



Grey Ellerton then got the lead 

 A gallant beast of mickle speed 

 For he did win the race indeed. 



Even so. 



Grey Appleton the hindmost came 

 And yet the horse was not to blame 

 The rider needs must have the shame 



For that. 



For tho' he chanced to come behind 



Yet did he run his rider blind ; 



He was a horseman of the right kind 



That's flat. 



For when the race was past and done 

 He knew not who had lost nor won 

 For he saw neither moon nor sun 



As then. 



And thus the race is at an end 

 And so farewell to foe and friend 

 God send us joy unto our end. 



Amen." 



