Pete, I think this might be the song you mentioned.
I can put in an abc of the tune if anyone is interested.

Regards
Marion

CORNISH KITCHEN

Why bless 'ee you knows all about it,
Avore I do tell 'ee a word
'Tis a boy and a maid, and a country glade
A story you've often heard,
How the boy lost his heart to the maid
Well the how of it's always the same;
'Tis where I met Nellie, that I wants to tell 'ee
She was tending the butter and craime.

In a Cornish Kitchen, with the log fire glow on the wall;
And the nickety nock o' the grandfather clock
The blue and white china and all:
The floor clean sanded, the table for supper was laid;
Her mother said stay, well what could I say
So I sat beside Jan's little maid.

Old Jan farmed about forty acres,
And I was his better most man;
So twas easy for me, to be seein' of she,
And that's how the courtin' began:
On Easter Day just a year after,
We marched off to church prinkly dressed;
I gived her the ring and all that sort of thing
And the parson chap he did the rest.

We've a Cornish Kitchen, with the log fire glow on the wall;
And the nickety nock o' the grandfather clock
The blue and white china and all:
There's the squab pie steamin', the table for two neatly laid
A chair for me and another for she
What was once farmer Jan's little maid.

I've seen chaps look wish't as a winnard
What you call scared out of their life;
P'raps starved as a baby or poor lived maybe
But'tis most times a troublesome wife:
Of course all the maids ain't like my maid,
What a joy of the world it would be,
If such maids could be found, to have one each all round
An' all be as happy as we.

We've a Cornwish Kitchen, with the log fire glow on the wall;
And the nickety nock o' the grandfather clock
The blue and white china and all:
We've a brave fire burning, the table for three is laid,
That's Nellie and me and the other you see,
Is our own dear little maid.

Prinky dressed – all dressed up
Squab pie – pigeon pie
Wish't as a winnard – a winnard is a redwing. They stop off in Cornwall for a rest on their way through and usually look pretty 'wished' when they arrive.


These words are from Henegan where the author states that it was written in the 1920's by Frederick Dale and sung by Edith Serpell & Charles Saunders. The publishers were Larway & Co. but the present owners of this firm have no record of the song.