There was a news item recently about the Tudor warship The Mary Rose. She sank in 1545 just off the Isle of Wight while engaged against the French. She was a massive ship loaded with heavy guns which could fire broadside, a devastating new tactic. There are many theories why she sank, but it was a terrible tragedy; she was King Henry VIII’s pride and joy and when she went down, more than 90% of her crew and passengers (including soldiers) of over 400 died with her. The wreck of the Mary Rose was salvaged in 1982 and there is now a permanent and exciting exhibition in Portsmouth. My mum was fascinated by it, and every time I hear mention of it I think of her and how interested she would have been with all the latest research and theories about the ship and it’s sinking.
I book I really recommend is ‘Heart Stone’ by C.J. Sansom (the fifth in a series of books about the sixteenth century lawyer Shardlake) The sinking of the Mary Rose is dramatically described and Sansom presents his own ideas and theories through his exciting and intriguing novel.
The news item I readabout the forensic examination of the skeletons of some of the crew, made me think about those men who had served and died for their king and country, and a song from my childhood sprang into my mind:
Come, cheer up, my lads, ’tis to glory we steer,
To add something more to this wonderful year;
To honour we call you, as freemen not slaves,
For who are so free as the sons of the waves?
Heart of oak are our ships, jolly tars are our men,
We always are ready; steady, boys, steady!
We’ll fight and we’ll conquer again and again
This was written about a very different conflict, some two hundred years later but it always stirs images of Tudor warships in my mind… and that is the point of this post… the songs of my childhood, and the hymns as well, provided a wonderful tapestry of story and narrative, character and description, action and love. I was Polly Oliver!
As pretty Polly Oliver lay musing in bed,
A sudden strange fancy came into her head.
“Nor father nor mother shall make me false prove,
I’ll ‘list as a soldier, and follow my love.”
So early next morning she softly arose,
And dressed herself up in her dead brother’s clothes.
She cut her hair close, and she stained her face brown,
And went for a soldier to fair London Town.
Then up spoke the sergeant one day at his drill,
“Now who’s good for nursing? A captain, he’s ill.”
“I’m ready,” said Polly. To nurse him she’s gone,
And finds her true love all wasted and wan.
The first week the doctor kept shaking his head,
“No nursing, young fellow, can save him,” he said.
But when Polly Oliver had nursed him back to life
He cried, “You have cherished him as if you were his wife”.
O then Polly Oliver, she burst into tears
And told the good doctor her hopes and her fears,
And very shortly after, for better or for worse,
The captain took joyfully his pretty soldier nurse.
… and there were so many others mainly folk songs, some street cries turned to popular ‘jingles’, anthems, ballads… ‘Barbara Allen’, ‘Cherry Ripe’, ‘When a Knight Won His Spurs’ ‘Men of Harlech’, ‘Bonnie Dundee’… and so many, many more which we knew off by heart. We had music lessons and singing lessons regularly and even if you weren’t very good at reading, you soon learnt the words to the songs and all their verses; how good that was for children for so many reasons! How culturally rich it was; I fear that these days children are not given that rich and varied tapestry of sometimes quite sophisticated folk heritage… all to satisfy the modern desire to be relevant and inclusive. What was more relevant and inclusive than these stories of friendship, valour, trust, truth and love?
Lois Elsden 