O'er moorland and brae: D'ye ken John Peel

On our way across the border we stopped for a peek at Gretna Green, the marriage capital of Britain, which became so when marriage laws became more restrictive in England and Wales. Couples took to fleeing to Gretna Green to be married, with or without the consent of their parents; the laws in Scotland being less restrictive at the time, where boys of fourteen could legally marry, as could girls of twelve.

Once there, all a couple really needed was to make a declaration before two witnesses, so almost anyone could perform a marriage service. Consequently the blacksmiths at Gretna Green, the first stop inside the border, became very busy. They came to be called 'anvil priests' as many of them performed thousands of ceremonies over their lifetime in their smithy shops.

Some six thousand weddings are still performed each year at Gretna Green. And the town makes the most of it. It looks very bonbonniere.

We learned, here, that John Peel was married at Gretna Green-- John Peel of the nineteenth century song we had learned at school: D'ye ken John Peel.

D'ye ken John Peel with his coat so gay?

D'ye ken John Peel at the break o' day?
D'ye ken John Peel when he's far, far a-way.
With his hounds and his horn in the morning?

This started us trying to remember the lyrics, and all morning remnants of the song kept recurring, annoying us, so we decided to do something about it, and find out more about John and his song. Which took us to Caldbeck, his hometown, not far south, and in the lovely Lakeland district, so it was a lovely drive.

John married Mary White and they had 13 children. He was a farmer, but his passion was hunting. He was known to be liberal with the drink, and would often call in for a quick one before the hunt even began.

He regularly rode to hounds, but in rough terrain would often abandon his cross bred gelding, Dunny, and go on foot, in Lakelander fashion, "Chasing the Ace'. So, he became a well known figure carving out a path across rough country.

His friend, John Graves, wrote the lyrics, in dialect, and John Peel is said to have been the first person to sing it. It is still played today. And very catchy it is, too.

John died in 1854, and his eleven surviving children were all at his funeral. Many of the boys were better able to secure jobs as servants with the local gentry as a result of their father's song, which was becoming more widespread as time went on.

John's grave still stands in the aged churchyard of St Kentigern's, where a lone sunflower leans woozily on a stone arch of the church portico.