#towneley

Yodamo

There is a place where poplars grow To the tune of nature’s thrall; Whose acres English Kings bestow Upon a bloodline’s noble flow, & so, my friends, we’ll come to know The Towneleys of Towneley Hall.

The grand, old mansion of Towneley Stands tall & ever holy; As in its tranquil sacristy, Come trace its noble history, Thro’ Lwlphus Cutwolfe’s ancestry To Spartinglas of Whalley.

The Towneleys are a noble breed, Knelt with monarchy, servile; Serving the Crown in debt & deed, From Agincourt to Berwick’s Tweed, At length they felt their fame did need A suitable stately pile.

The South Wing took a while to rise, Built from the bricks of Bowland; From turrets scraping sacred skies & glassy windows for proud eyes, Twas perfect place to praise & prize The all-surrounding moorland.

The country flows in valleys deep, Mid Pennine country raising; Where gorse & brier hug the steep, & reedy meadows feed the sheep, Where roses from the greaves slow creep To Turf Moor’s common grazing.

Sir Richard Towneley’s son was sent To the Collegiate at Rome; Twas there young Charles heard parliament Had struck the king with sore intent, Being loyal, of royal bent, Dropping books he hurries home.

Prince Rupert led his mighty force To Marston Moor in the rain, Charles Towneley charg’d his sable horse Bezerking like the war-craz’d Norse, Alas his luck has run its course, All mud-stuck he slid down slain.

That night his Mary reach’d the moor To find her husband’s body; Ploughing thro’ warfare’s awful gore, She found a figure sprawl’d on  floor, some sword-slash thro’ his broad chest tore & all his clothes were bloody.

She took her lov’d one to Towneley, & found their lands were forfeit; Being the price of loyalty, As Parliament seize property, Reducing noble ancestry As however they saw fit!

Despite the loss of many lands From Hapton up to Barley, The Royal Stuart still commands The Towneley’s passion, as it stands For loyalty, & joins the clans Adoring bonnie Charlie.

At Manchester Francis Towneley Met that young, bewitching smile; Joining the march down to Derby & back again, the enemy Hard at their heels, him desp’rately Was order’d to hold Carlisle.

His was a forlorn garrison, For Carlisle, of course, did fall; Off Francis carted to London, The gloom of Newgate’s doom-prison; After the axe his skull was won For the tombs at Towneley Hall

As Jacobites all fled to Rome, With them went this Charles Towneley, Inspired there by Saint Peter’s dome, Thro’ church & workshop he did comb & dug & bought & brought back home Soft treasures of Italy!

Now Peregrin, of noble heart, Takes up the seat at Towneley; In its long progress play’d great part, On renovations made a start, Placed his rare grandfather’s art In a plush, red gallery.

Now Burnley’s spreading up the hills, Abloom with church & chimneys; Whose rows of rooves & window sills, Hous’d thousands for the mines & mills, Whose smoke the valley mostly fills & only clears on Sundays.

All Burnley’s ever honest folks For the Colonel up their thumb; Charles Towneley was the best of blokes, Who shar’d their troubles & their jokes Whose Butterfly had won the Oaks – Enter chestnut Kettledrum.

In him all Burnley held high hope As he chases great Dundee; Racing for Towneley & the Pope, Round Tattenham he took the slope, With coasting force no horse could cope, His blaze first past the Derby.

Back north the news did swiftly steer Upon the wire electric; Saint Peter’s Bells began the cheer, Such was the spangling atmosphere That when the Bull gave out free beer All the town got paralytic.

Lady O’Hagan last to greet The morning moors round Towneley, As local councils voting meet Dissenting voices feel defeat, Eighteen thousand paid for the seat, For evermore, for Burnley.

Lands lovely add to Burnley’s streets Down Tod’ Road from Foldy Cross; Where scratch & scratchy golf competes By football & cross-country meets; Come picnic by the Hall’s fine treats & its grandiose emboss.

Gender: Male

Pronunciation: TAOWN-lee

Origin: Old English

Meaning: Meadow town

Gender: Female

Pronunciation: TAOWN-lee

Origin: Old English

Meaning: Meadow town