Listen to the track:
🎵 Wembury, 1851
Based on the 1851 census returns
(Verse 1)
In eighteen-fifty-one, the land was changing fast
But not so much in Wembury, where the old ways held fast
Up at Wembury House, they polished silver bright
While down the road, the paupers prayed for warmth at night
(Verse 2)
Sir Edward Thornton, honoured and well-fed
Owned half the parish, so the papers said
He dined with London lords, and wrote in careful hand
While Betty Algate warmed her feet with peat and sand
(Chorus)
And the sea still sang at the end of the lane
But some wore lace, and some wore chain
From ledger to hearth, from servant to lord
The census kept count of what none could afford
(Verse 3)
Sophia Dyer, a fund-holder guest
Had stocks and tea and time to rest
While Ann March cooked and Mary Wise swept
And under the stairs, the housemaids slept
(Verse 4)
In the Almshouses, the names stayed on
But work was gone and strength near gone
Greaney, Treble, Jury, still alive
On parish help, no wage to thrive
(Bridge)
A nation built railways, showed steam in Hyde Park
But Wembury still rose by candle and lark
Some kept a title, some just a tray
And the farmhands still bowed at the break of day
(Chorus)
And the sea still sang at the end of the lane
But some wore lace, and some wore chain
From ledger to hearth, from servant to lord
The census kept count of what none could afford
(Outro)
Now the ledgers fade but the names remain
In foot-worn fields and windswept rain
Through silent halls and workday grey—
Wembury walked its quiet way