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Lyr Req: Ballad of Lumley Kettlewell

KEITH HIGHAM 11 Apr 04 - 10:48 AM
Geoff the Duck 11 Apr 04 - 12:04 PM
pavane 11 Apr 04 - 12:32 PM
pavane 11 Apr 04 - 05:45 PM
pavane 11 Apr 04 - 05:46 PM
Geoff the Duck 11 Apr 04 - 07:21 PM
GUEST 27 May 17 - 08:20 AM
Dave the Gnome 27 May 17 - 09:43 AM
RunrigFan 27 May 17 - 12:23 PM
Black belt caterpillar wrestler 27 May 17 - 06:49 PM
Jim Dixon 29 May 17 - 11:03 PM
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Subject: Lyr Req: BALLAD OF LUMLEY KETTLEWELL
From: KEITH HIGHAM
Date: 11 Apr 04 - 10:48 AM

PLEASE CAN SOMEONE HELP WITH THE LYRICS AND CHORDS AND PIANO SCORE FOR GRAHAM AND EILEEN PRATT'S SONG CALLED THE BALLAD OF LUMLEY KETTLEWELL


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req: BALLAD OF LUMLEY KETTLEWELL
From: Geoff the Duck
Date: 11 Apr 04 - 12:04 PM

Can't find anything on the web!
Is that the song about the bloke who tried to prove you don't need food to live? Ended up with starved animals.
Quack!
GtD.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req: BALLAD OF LUMLEY KETTLEWELL
From: pavane
Date: 11 Apr 04 - 12:32 PM

That's the one.
I do have it on a cassette somewhere, (from folk on 2, I think) but may take some time to locate it! That would be just the words though


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Subject: Lyr Add: LUMLEY KETTLEWELL
From: pavane
Date: 11 Apr 04 - 05:45 PM

LUMLEY KETTLEWELL
Graham & Eileen Pratt

I'll sing of Lumley Kettlewell, a man of Yorkshire fame
In Bolton ?Thursley? he was born and there he made his name
Although a wealthy farmer's son, & posessed of health most rude
He spent his whole life trying to prove that no-one needed food

Chorus:
In spite of Lumley Kettlewell and all he had to say
It seems that man was born to eat until his dying day

Now you might think him funny, or consider him berserk
But think of the advantages if Lumley's theory worked
Goodbye to indigestion and adieu to diarrhea
A little abdominal emptiness is all you'd have to fear

The strictest of experiments he ably carried through
He starved his dog, he starved his horse, he starved his donkey too
To cure their dreadful habit, of eating between gaps
And when success was in his grasp, the poor beasts just collapsed

He saw food as an evil and disdained a good square meal
Plates of chips and Yorkshore pud for him had no appeal
He practiced and he practiced to perfect the food-free day
And just when he'd perfected it, the poor sod passed away

So when the final trumpets blow and mortals bow down low
To those grand men of science who taught us all we know
With Einstein, Pasteur, Curie too, let Lumley take his seat
His failure proves that truth of truths, you die unless you eat

Transcribed by Neil Jennings
From a BBC Folkweave performance, date unknown


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req: BALLAD OF LUMLEY KETTLEWELL
From: pavane
Date: 11 Apr 04 - 05:46 PM

You are VERY lucky. I had actually written an index to that tape, so I found it easily.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req: BALLAD OF LUMLEY KETTLEWELL
From: Geoff the Duck
Date: 11 Apr 04 - 07:21 PM

Bolton Percy - I think. (Verse 1 - Question marks).
See Here!
Quack!!
GtD.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Ballad of Lumley Kettlewell
From: GUEST
Date: 27 May 17 - 08:20 AM

I have been going through old tapes that I recorded live and one was Graham and Eileen playing in Tewkesbury Gloucestershire at the Abbey Mill and they sang this song so I thought I would google to see if it registered.Quite surprising really.
Rob Dylan - Coleford Forest of Dean.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Ballad of Lumley Kettlewell
From: Dave the Gnome
Date: 27 May 17 - 09:43 AM

Nick Dow used to do a splendid version.

DtG


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Ballad of Lumley Kettlewell
From: RunrigFan
Date: 27 May 17 - 12:23 PM

mail@grahamandeileenpratt.co.uk perhaps they are still contactable


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Ballad of Lumley Kettlewell
From: Black belt caterpillar wrestler
Date: 27 May 17 - 06:49 PM

The song is on their cassette tape "The Magic pear tree", side 2 track 7.

Robin


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Ballad of Lumley Kettlewell
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 29 May 17 - 11:03 PM

From The Monthly Magazine, Volume 50, Oct. 1, 1820, page 287.

THE LATE LUMLEY KETTLEWELL.

The close of 1819, closed the singular life of Lumley Kettlewell, of Clementhorpe, near Yorke, Esq. He died of wretched, voluntary privation, poverty, cold, filth, and personal neglect, in obscure lodgings in the street called the Pavement, (whither he had removed from his own house a little while before,) about seventy years of age. His fortune, manners, and education, had made him a gentleman; but from some unaccountable bias in the middle of life, he renounced the world, its comforts, pleasures, and honours, for the life of a hermit. His person was delicate, rather below the middle size, and capable of great exertion and activity. His countenance, singularly refined and scientific, reminded you of a French Alchymist of the middle ages. His dress was mean, squalid, tattered, and composed of the most opposite and incongruous garments; sometimes a fur cap with a ball-room coat, (bought at an old clothes' shop) and hussar-boots; at another time a high-crowned London hat, with a coat or jacket of oil-skin, finished off with the torn remains of black silk stockings, and so forth. His manners were polished, soft and gentlemanly, like those of Chesterfield, and the old court. Early in life he shone in the sports of the field; and he kept blood horses and game dogs to the last; but the former he invariably starved to death, or put such rough, crude, and strange provender* before them, that they gradually declined into so low a condition, that the ensuing winter never failed to terminate their career, and their places were as regularly supplied by a fresh stud. The dogs also were in such a plight that they were scarcely able to go about in search of food in the shambles or on the dung-hills. A fox was usually one of his inmates, and he had Muscovy ducks, and a brown Maltese ass, of an uncommon size, which shared the fate of his horses, dying for want of proper food, and warmth. All these animals inhabited the same house with himself, and they were his only companions there; for no mortal, i.e. no human being, was allowed to enter that mysterious mansion. The front door was strongly barricadoed within, and he always entered by the garden, which communicated with Clementhorpe Fields, and thence climbed up by a ladder into a small aperture that had once been a window. He did not sleep in a bed, but in a potter's crate filled with hay, into which he crept about 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning, and came out again about noon the following day. His money used to be laid about in his window seats, and on his tables, and, from the grease it had contracted by its transient lodgment in his breeches pockets, the Bank notes were once or twice devoured by rats. His own aliment was most strange and uninviting; vinegar and water his beverage; cocks' heads with their wattles and combs, baked on a pudding of bran and treacle, formed his most dainty dish, occasionally he treated himself with rabbits' feet : he liked tea and coffee, but these were indulgences too great for every day. He read and wrote at all hours not occupied with the care of the aforesaid numerous domestic animals, and with what he called the sports of the field. His integrity was spotless; his word at all times being equal to other men's bonds. His religion was what is commonly understood by the "religion of nature;" he attended no place of worship; nor would he without great effort and much reluctance, vote at the city and county elections. But when he did, it was always in support of the candidate most favourable to the cause and rights of the people. "Never vote for the ministerial members," he used to say, "the King and the great men will always take care of themselves." He used to carry about with him a large sponge, and on long walks or rides he would now and then stop, dip the sponge in water and soak the top of his head with it, saying it refreshed him far, more than food or wine. He admitted no visitor whatever at his own house; but sometimes went himself to see any person of whose genius or eccentricity he had conceived an interesting opinion; and he liked on these visits to be treated with a cup of tea or coffee, books, and a pen and ink; he then sat down close to the fire, rested his elbow on his knee, and, almost in a double posture, would read till morning, or make extracts of passages peculiarly striking to him. His favourite subjects were the pedigree of Blood-horses, the writings of Freethinkers, Chemistry, and Natural History.

* Their best food was chopped wins and dried nettles. Hay they never tasted after coming into his possession.


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