Cornish Catches, and Other Verses — Edition Insights

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In Category - Science Fiction Utopias

Authors: Moore, Bernard, 1873- Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2012 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: English poetry; Cornwall (England : County) -- Poetry; Dialect poetry, English -- England -- Cornwall (County) Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 12,504

Reading time 55 min

Text sections 3

This digital edition of Cornish Catches, and Other Verses — Edition Insights is described by source-level measurements including 12,504 words, 55 min estimated reading time, and 3 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 26.3 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “English poetry,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #38565

Bernard Moore's 1914 collection blends Cornish dialect poems with lyrical verses on nature, love, and faith. The dialect pieces capture fishing life and local speech, while the second section shifts to more formal, romantic and spiritual themes, revealing a poet working in two distinct registers.

Editorial Edition Score 4.5/5

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Title & short description10 pts
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Text length15 pts
Chapters / structure15 pts
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File: pg38565

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There was very much less than an inch between Jenny an' me in the Kittereen For wasn' we both of us turned nineteen? An' wasn' there Love to share?

I've knawed a many o' Devon maids with cheeks merry an' red, They'm pleasant an' 'ansum single, an' homely an' cosy wed; But I shan't marry a Devon maid; I reckon I'd rather be dead.

I've seed a many o' London maids abroad in London Town; They'm larky an' flittery single, but marryin' calms 'em down; But I shan't marry a London maid; I reckon I'd rather drown.

For I have knawed the Cornish maids, an' like 'em best of any. So take the London an' Devon maids, they'm goin' at two a penny; An' I shan't marry nobody else, for I be tokened to Jenny.

Cap'n John has been to Frisky, Injy an' Australy too; Now he runs a lug-an'-mizzen Arter Pilchers out o' Looe, Iss, he do.

Cap'n John was braave an' slippey Till the say catched hold of he; Now he'm tanned an' tough an' wrinkled, Simming like mohogany. Iss, he be.

Cap'n John baint smurt an' 'ansum, Like a claned up Sarvice Coor; Stiff hair all aroun' his niddick Makes him like a hedgaboor. Iss, be Gor!

Cap'n John don't boast o' beauty, Beauty don't set down with tar; But he've got a pair o' patches Shows how dacent patches are. Iss, with tar.

Cap'n John thinks books is rubbige; Sez that printin' spoils his eyes; But he reads the book o' weather Written in the say an' skies; Iss, he's wise.

Cap'n John, us looks towards 'ee, Wish 'ee luck when shuttin' seine, Wish 'ee tummals at the jowstin', Wish 'ee out an' home again. Clink you'm cider at the call, "Cap'n John, an' One an' All."

Dolly Pentreath is dead an' gone, her stone stands up to Paul; But Dolly Pentreath her still lives on in the hearts of One and All. Her smoked an' snuffed, an' the cusses her knowed was mortal hard to bate, But her carried her creel like a Mousehole maid, an' allays selled out her cate.

Her wern't afeerd at livin' alone, an' many a tale is told, As shows as how her face was brass, but her heart was true as gold. One day a sailor had tooked his leave afore his leave was given, An' knowed if they catched him the yard arm rope would show him the way to Heaven,

So he scatted to Dolly, an' jest in time her thought of the chimley wide, An' her collared him hold by the slack of his breeks an' shoved him up inside. Cussin' an' fussin' they searchers came, but awnly Dolly they sees, Washin' her feet in her old oak keeve, with her petticoat up to her knees.

An' didn' her give them a tang o' tongue, an' didn' her cuss them sweet, For thinkin' her'd let a man bide there an' see her washin' her feet? But her called the loudest cusses of all, an' scraiched like a rat at a stoat, When the sailor gave a chokely cough for the fuzzen smoke in his throat.

The storm her raised drove the buffleheads out a grumpling into the street, An' the sailor washed hisself in the keeve where Dolly had washed her feet.

Dolly Pentreath is dead an' gone, her stone stands up to Paul; But Dolly Pentreath her still lives on in the hearts of One and All.

SUNDAY IN THE CORNISH PORT

There b'aint no fishin' in the bay, The boats be moored 'longside the kay, With sails reefed in an' stawed away, An' all so calm an' still-- Excep' the ripple o' the tide, An' gulls awheelin' up 'longside The clifts, to where the Church do bide Atop the Flag-staff Hill.

Above the Slip where boats be moored The cottage doors be set abroad, An' singin' voices praise the Lord For mercies which endure; An' happy childer in the street, Dressed all so vitty, clane, an' neat, Puts somethin' in the music sweet It didn' had before.

Now every fisherman be dressed In shiny suit o' black for best, As fittin' to the Day o' Rest, An' sign o' Death to Sin; The jerseys in the lockers bide, For Sunday knaws its proper pride, An' likes to show a clane outside To match the heart within.

Mid mornin', Church bell clangs a call. An' some don't take no heed at all, But some goes up the hill to Paul, An' some to Chapel goes; Whilst some strolls down upon the kay, An' sits an' spits into the say; But all the same, they knaws the Day, An' doesn' dirt their clo'es.

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Bernard Moore's Cornish Catches, and Other Verses (1914) opens with a dialect poem, “Well, there ’tis,” that immediately establishes a voice distinct from the standard English of the later section. The speaker uses phrases like “gert black cloud” and “smuttered an’ stark,” grounding the poem in a specific regional speech. The collection is divided into two parts: the first, “Cornish Catches,” comprises poems with Cornish settings and dialect; the second, “The Garment of Time,” moves to more conventional lyrical forms. This structural split is the most notable feature of the book, and it invites comparison between the two modes.

Dialect and the Cornish Voice

The opening poem, “Well, there ’tis,” uses a repeated refrain to structure a meditation on life from infancy to old age. The dialect is not merely decorative: words like “mort” (a great deal), “cloam” (clay or earth), and “unmothered” are integral to the poem’s texture. Other titles in this section—“Granfer’s Proverbs,” “A Cornish Seining Song,” “A Mevagissey Haul”—signal a focus on fishing communities and oral tradition. The poem “Dolly Pentreath” references the last known native speaker of the Cornish language, linking the collection to linguistic heritage. However, the dialect is not consistent across all poems; some, like “Gardens,” use only occasional dialect words (“Passun” for parson). This suggests Moore was selective in his use of dialect, perhaps for local color rather than full authenticity.

The Shift to Lyrical Convention

The second section, “The Garment of Time,” abandons dialect entirely. Poems such as “In a Garden,” “Sorrow’s Courage,” and “Star Signs” employ a formal, Romantic diction. “Sorrow’s Courage” opens with the line “I have loved Beauty” and uses personification of sun, sea, and stars. “A Choosing” contrasts the “blind mole” with the “skylark,” a conventional emblem of poetic aspiration. “The Old Knight’s Song” adopts a medieval chivalric pose, with the speaker praying to winds, sun, and stars for his lady. This section’s themes—beauty, courage, faith, and the soul’s ascent—are typical of early 20th-century lyric poetry. The shift in register is abrupt, and the two sections feel like separate collections bound together.

Recurring Motifs Across the Divide

Despite the stylistic break, certain motifs recur. The sea appears in both sections: in the dialect poems as a setting for fishing (“A Cornish Seining Song,” “A Mevagissey Haul”), and in the lyrics as a symbol of sublimity (“Sorrow’s Courage” describes the sea “fringe with its silver all the golden shore”). Stars are another shared image: in “Well, there ’tis,” the child is “skeered o’ the turble dark,” while in “Star Signs” the stars are “silver signs to a House not made with hands.” The word “turble” (terrible) in the dialect poems echoes the more elevated “tempest’s roar” in the lyrics. These connections suggest that Moore saw the two modes as complementary, not contradictory, though the book does not explicitly bridge them.

Readers approaching Cornish Catches, and Other Verses should be aware that the catalog subjects—English poetry, Cornwall, and dialect poetry—accurately describe only the first half of the book. The second half is conventional lyric verse with no Cornish setting or dialect. The collection is best understood as two separate works bound together, and its interest lies partly in the contrast between Moore’s regional voice and his more polished, literary style.

Years shelving have taught me that Moore’s dialect verses, with their salt-worn honesty, share a quiet cousin in that other book. Both watch the heavens—one through Cornish nets and weathered hands, the other through star-lit wonder—yet neither raises its voice. Betelguese — Themes and Context feels like the same hush, kept in a different key.

Alexander Thompson

1 month ago

Benjamin Campbell

3 weeks ago

4.5

4.5 out of 5 (2 User reviews )

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Janice Ward - 1 month ago

{'review_type': 'neutral', 'content': "An amusing collection that captures the spirit of Cornwall with humor and warmth. The poems are light and accessible, though some lean heavily on dialect that might slow non-local readers. While it's not profound poetry, it succeeds as entertainment. If you're after a casual, cheerful read, this fits the bill."}

Michele Gonzales - 3 weeks ago

{'review_type': 'negative', 'content': "This volume is more doggerel than poetry. The verses are repetitive, relying on forced rhymes and regional slang that feel more gimmicky than authentic. There's little depth or originality, and many poems read like filler. Even for a light read, I found it tedious after a few pages. Nothing memorable here."}

Cheryl Davenport - 3 weeks ago

{'review_type': 'positive', 'content': "A delightful romp through Cornwall's charm and quirks. These verses are witty, playful, and full of local color, making them a joy to read aloud. The author's love for the region shines through every line, and the range of topics—from sea shanties to village life—keeps it refreshingly varied. A perfect pick for anyone wanting a taste of Cornish culture."}