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Mulgrave Woods

Just about three miles from Whitby 
You will find these glorious woods, 
Which look lovely in the Springtime 
When the flowers are out in bud, 
And the Snowdrops they are peeping 
From their secret hiding place, 
Just like white sheets in the woodland, 
Full of beauty and of grace 

After them come the primroses, 
Which we welcome with delight, 
For the place is simply carpeted 
Oh what a glorious sight, 
To stand in silent wonder 
And gaze on this lovely spot 
And neath the fragrance of violets 
And the sweet for-get-me-not 

The Thrush is sweetly singing 
His love song to the morn, 
To the tree the ivy clinging, 
And the May grow on the thorn, 
But give to me Old Mulgrave 
In the merry month of June 
When the sun is brightly shining 
And the roses are in bloom 

Besides the trees, the flowers and ferns 
That grow in this lovely old place 
The scenery, it is romantic 
Such artists love to paint 
There's the eagles nest for instance 
You can stand and obtain a good view 
Of the Castle and seat of the mulgraves 
And a fine old place it is too 

After you leave the eagles nest 
You enter the Wizards Glen 
A place that is left in its natural state 
Which could not have been done by men 
By walking down to the end of the Glen 
The Hermitage is your next call 
What grieves me most about this old place 
Is the names that are wrote on the wall 

Looking from the Hermitage 
Across a deep ravine 
The ruins of an old castle 
Plainly can be seen 
According to what history tells us 
Of the years long long ago 
It was the land of Oliver Cromwell 
That laid the castle Loab 

By walking further up the woods 
You come to the Old Foss Mill 
And enter the path that leads to the stream 
The stream with its rippling rill 
But of all the scenery in the woods 
This bit exceeds the lot 
And a walk down this path on a hot summers day 
Will never be forgot 

Away down the nearby path you go 
Under the lovers leap 
Such a quiet peaceful place it is 
If tired you may take a seat 
And think of the other places you have visited 
Where the scenery was very good 
But for a bit of real romantic scenery 
You can't beat old Mulgrave Woods 


By Charles Griffiths 
A visitor to Sandsend in the 1950's 

Runswick Bay

On the seventh of August a Jubilee year 
A party of seven from Sandsend did steer 
For a place called Runswick, I know it right well 
Where strong hardy Fishermen in it doth dwell 

There was Wheetman and Whitler, Farmer and son 
Pybus and Ted Shaw, likewise their Tom 
A nice lot of jokers to go for a trip 
If I had my way I'd have given them a dip 

They visited all the hotels in the place 
The pretty young barmaids to see 
Till Wheetman cried out "I'm tired of this 
Away to the Clickham for tea" 

Some went to Hinderwell, some went to Staithes 
Some their relations to see 
But when Sam asked Wheetman where he was going 
He says there's nowhere but Clickham for me 

The signal was, be back to Runswick at six 
Our ship will be ready for sea 
The crew were all waiting 'cept Wheetman you bet 
Who'd moped ale instead of drank tea 

Lashed to the helm was Wheetman, 
Wheetman so brave and true 
While Sambo imagined his dream little self 
Fishing for kippers over the bow 

Out on the point of Kettleness 
Stood Calvert, hat in hand 
Shouting to Captain Wheetman 
To keep her way off the land 

Hand over the captain shoved the helm 
And let her go out to the sea 
Then Farmer said "Why where are we going, 
It's Sandsend where we want to be" 


by Charles Griffiths 
A visitor to Sandsend in the 1950's

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