Cromwell's Talking Head (the full Musical) by Peacock's Tale folk indie duo

INSTALLATION OF CIVIL WAR CANNONBALL AT MARRIOTT'S WAREHOUSE TRUST SAT. JUNE 3 10.30am.

(Part of Local History Day)

 The cannonball in all its glory, now on permanent public display at Marriott's Warehouse

The Ballad of the Backwoods Cavalier  (lyrics at end of this blogpost)

 The Ballad of Freeborn John (lyrics at end of this blogpost)

"'I spilled my blood so I need a voice,'/ Said Freeborn John at Putney..."

Dr Paul Richards, who gave an excellent talk about the Siege, with the other Marriott's Warehouse Trustees, along with performers on the day Andy (hidden) and Gareth

The cannonball as presented to Gareth by Veronica Lane

This 17^th century cannonball dates from the Civil War and was found in a field near King’s Lynn. It was given to Gareth Calway by Veronica Lane whilst he was touring with his Oliver Cromwell show. Gareth then presented the cannonball to Marriott’s Warehouse Trust in 2016. During the Civil War the town suffered a three-week siege from 28^th August to 15^th September 1643 following a Royalist coup. Parliamentarian forces blockaded the town to the east and by sea, while cannons were fired across the River Ouse from West Lynn. On 3^rd September 1643 one cannonball went through St. Margaret’s Church’s west window.

The Siege of Lynn was very important in terms of the Civil War and also because of its impact on the population of Lynn.  To mark the occasion, Gareth will join with Andy Wall director of Ely Folk Festival to perform "The Ballad of Freeborn John" their song about the issues at stake in the Civil War and declaim his comic ballad "The Ballad of The Backwoods Cavalier" which tells the story of the Siege as PG Wodehouse might have told it! Dr Paul Richards will deliver a short talk about the impact of the Siege on Lynn's population.

                The Ballad of The Backwoods Cavalier 

My father leapt upon his high horse

And galloped it hard into Lynn,

“I seize this Parliamentary town,

Declare it for the King!”

“You have no mandate!” cried Mayor and MPs

Laughed Dad, “Arrest those knaves!

Cavalier bravado has come to town

Which you from yourselves I’ll save.”

Though Cromwell’s preachies at the Gate

Of Lynn as at Heaven knock,

Our stained glass windows shoot all to hell,

Our royal passage block,

We are the laughing cavaliers

And we need a royal 'we'

Now it's weeing down with cannonballs

And the last laugh is on me.

 Say I “Great king, your royal East

And loyal Lynn, I’ll re-seize ’em,

They’re rebels for Your Majesty

And I’m the man to lead ’em!”

The king he writes a broad letter

And thrusts it into my hand,

“Roger L’Estrange shall rule in Lynn

With phantoms I command.”

We live and die a chevalier’s life,

And we spend a royal p.

On a black marble floor for our horse's hooves

And a falconer and a fool for me.

We are the laughing cavaliers

And we need a royal 'we'

Now it's weeing down with cannonballs

And the last laugh is on me.

.

From Oxford Town to Norfolk woods

The four winds see me ride

And show my fine letter to a Jack

His poor coat to turn or bribe.

‘Captain Leaman’ is that seaman,

Cries he, ‘Er, we’ll talk anon,

I must now to Lynn awhile but will

Return here to Appleton.”

He rides to Colonel Walton and brings

Six redcoats in disguise,

“Show us His Royal Traitor’s hand!’

They pinch me as a spy.

We are the laughing cavaliers

And we need a royal 'we'

Now it's weeing down with cannonballs

And the last laugh is on ...we.

© Gareth Calway 2015

                The Ballad of Freeborn John

The bloodiest war in our history

And one in four of us died

For a castled king on a stagnant throne

In a revolutionary tide.

‘I spilt my blood so I need a voice!’

Cries Freeborn John at Putney,

‘Who dies for England is England’s king,

We are no grandee’s army.

‘The poorest man in England has

The right to live as the greatest,

Our God’s the All in all, our king’s

The Christ in every breast.’

The bloodiest war in our history

And one in four of us died

For a castled king on a stagnant throne

And a revolutionary tide.

We’re the voice of the Freeborn Englishman

That was raised at Magna Carta,

The Dissenting flag of the Good Old Cause, 

The common or garden martyr.

I rose with Tyler, Straw and Ball 

When peasants shook the kingdom, 

I was sold down that river of blood by a king

Who hawked the soul of England.

We need no manor house and land

To fix our permanent interest,

We fight for England, our rights and ourselves:

No mercenary business.

The bloodiest war in our history

And one in four of us died

For a castled king on a stagnant throne

And a revolutionary tide.

I will rise at Kett’s Hill and Tolpuddle,

I will fall at Peterloo,

March to Chartist hell and a Newport hotel 

To win this Britain for you,

Die a million deaths in two world wars

Though the portion’s not so many

As died for Charles, that Man of Blood, 

And in our redcoat Army.

A new model England truly advanced,

Through rank and royal sin

In a cavalry charge to a Future Now

Whose God Not Man Is King.*

The bloodiest war in our history

And one in four of us died

For a castled king on a stagnant throne

And a revolutionary tide.

© Gareth Calway 2015

*the epitaph on Cromwell’s tomb

The Ballad of Freeborn John

The Ballad of Freeborn John

The bloodiest war in our history
And one in four of us died
For a castled king on a stagnant throne
And a revolutionary tide.

‘I spilt my blood so I need a voice!’
Cries Freeborn John at Putney,
‘Who dies for England is England’s king,
We are no grandee’s army.

‘The poorest man in England has
The right to live as the greatest,
Our All in all is God the king
In every soul and breast.’

The bloodiest war in our history
And one in four of us died
For a castled king on a stagnant throne
And a revolutionary tide.

We’re the voice of the Freeborn Englishman
That was raised at Magna Carta,
The deathless flag of the Good Old Cause, the Bold
Dissenting Leveller.

I rose with Tyler, Straw and Ball
When peasants shook the kingdom,
I was sold down that river of blood by a king
Who hawked the soul of England.

We need no manor house and land
To fix our permanent interest,
We fight for England, our rights and ourselves:
No mercenary business.

The bloodiest war in our history
And one in four of us died
For a castled king on a stagnant throne
And a revolutionary tide.

I will strike with the Tolpuddle Martyrs,
I will die at Peterloo,
March to bloody hell at the Westgate Hotel
To win this England for you,

Die a million deaths in two world wars
Though the portion’s not so many
As died for Charles, that Man of Blood,
And in our redcoat Army.

A new model England truly advanced,
Through the royal ranks of sin
In a cavalry charge to a Future Now
Where God not man is king.*

The bloodiest war in our history
And one in four of us died
For a castled king on a stagnant throne
And a revolutionary tide.




*the epitaph on Cromwell’s tomb



During the English Civil Wars - in June 1647, at Putney, with the king under arrest - a proto-democratic assembly of elected New Model Army representatives debated a new constitution for England. The vision of ordinary men and what they had fought for received articulate expression and a level of consideration far beyond the intellectual level of the Stuart court or of the aristocratic 'Parliament.' 'Freeborn John' Lilburne was one of the key voices but there are many others like John Ball through history. The debates, often regarded as the cradle of modern democracy, were cut short by the 'Man of Blood' (Charles I) escaping and a second war beginning. Incredible that this Civil War, fought on principle rather than for tribal loyalties or pay, cost one in four English lives proportionally higher than World War I and II combined. The poem was first composed on St George's Day 2013, and the intention is to include it as a new folk song in my Cromwell's Talking Head show as a musical collaboration.

The chorus emphasises the two world views of the antagonists. Charles I was set up to fight the civil war in sieges from castles but it was decided by cavalry charges in pitched battles - the verb of dynamic progress against the noun of mediaeval reaction.