Jan Knuckey, taken from Seagull, the final studio album by Cornish singer Brenda Wootton.
Brenda Wootton, still affectionately known as Cornwall's First Lady of Song, was a Cornish singer extrodinaire whose wide repertoire included folk, Celtic, roots, Gospel, Spiritual, hymns, jazz, and blues, to name but a few. Brenda Wootton was a prolific performer and recording artiste from the 1960s through to 1990. She regularly sang in several languages, including Cornish (Kernewek / Cornouaillais ), Breton (Brezhoneg / Bretonne) and French, besides English. Hailing from Newlyn, Brenda performed widely in her native Cornwall / Kernow / Cornouailles / Kernev and across Great Britain, Brittany (Breizh), France and beyond.
Jan Knuckey
Sung by Brenda Wootton
Traditional Cornish dialect / traditionnel dialecte Cornouaillais
1990
Brenda wrote:- Jan Knuckey is a Cornish tin miner who pays court to a very large lady called Aunt Grace; she has a little shop in the village, and it is rumoured that she is not poor! Jan is very interested in her money, and although afraid, calls to her house and knocks on her door. She, guessing at his intentions, smacks him in the face, at which he protests and begs a kiss. Grace is very angry and picks him up by the collar and throws him through the door – poor Jan Knuckey!
Jan Knuckey est un mineur d’étain. Le bruit court dans le village que Tante Grace, qui est très grosse et qui tient un petit commerce, est loin d’être sans le sou. Jan Knuckey, très intéressé, decide de lui faire la cour. Il prend son courage à deux mains, et se présente à sa porte. Tante Grace, qui n’est pas dupe, l’accueille avec une paire de giffles; Jan proteste et lui réclame... un baiser. Tante Grace, très en colère, l’attrape par le col et le jette dehors. Pauvre Jan Knuckey!
[Chorus]
Johnny will you come along now
Or Johnny will you wait for a while-o
Come along John with your big boots on,
Johnny will you wait for a while?
Jan Knuckey was a miner bold
As ever went to bal
And cruel good could wrastle too
And throw a tidy fall.
Up along to churchtown lived
A fine and fancy dame
She was pure stout – so was her purse
Aunt Gracie was her name.
Boy Jan, ‘ee fetched his coose one day
To spake his mind to Grace
But when he got inside the door
He didn’t have the face.
Then said he, “Ello my love,
“When shall us be asked out
“Leave you and me keep company?”
The answer was a clout.
“Aw, leave us ‘ave no fuss,” says Jan,
“Pray don’t ‘ee take amiss,
“Dear Grace, I ask before I go,
“You’ll leave me ‘ave a kiss.”
But Grace’s dander now was up
She scritched and jawed by turns
She picked poor Jan up by the scruff
And she throwed’un through the durns.
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