Literary ballads are a type of poem that became popular in England in the Romantic and Victorian era, as poets looked back on old storytelling techniques of the oral tradition, and created narrative tales that contained rhythm, alliteration action and dialogue. All these devices help bring the story to life when read out loud, reflecting the storytelling techniques of travelling bards from previous centuries.
Year 8 have been studying Lord Tennyson’s Lady of Shalott (1842) and Alfred Noyes’s The Highwayman (1906), identifying all these literary devices. After studying the two ballads, and comparing them in a critical essay, the students worked together as a class to create their own ballad, based on the true story of England’s most famous highwayman Dick Turpin. Below is their ballad, including all the features of ballad writing: rhythm, rhyme, alliteration, pathetic fallacy, stanzas, refrains, dialogue, metaphors and similes.
The Ballad of Dick Turpin
Part 1: The Essex Gang
Dick Turpin was a butcher by day
Who became a robber, so they say
That would spread fear on the dark highway
His gang would rob and steal and fight
The Essex Gang was their name
They stole without a shred of shame
And Turpin was never the same
He went stealing in the black black night
Into a widow’s house they crept
Threatened to murder her while she slept
She would not tell where her money was kept
But her son called out to save his mum
He told them where the money was found
They drank her ale and danced around
And rode away with £100 pounds
Swigging from bottles of stolen rum
They went cheering in the black black night
Another day up to no good
They went up to the neighbourhood
An old man they left with no money or food
But he did not give up without a fight
They pulled him around by his ears
With a background crowded with cheers
They left the man covered in tears
They went stealing in the black black night
Fifty pounds and the gang would die
And time in prison was drawing nigh
Poor Highwayman he began to sigh
They would be arrested on sight
A young man with them, a traitor he was
Betrayed his friends and his boss
To the authorities, all because
They went stealing in the black black night
The Essex Gang kept standing high
But hid from the all-seeing sky
In the forest was heard a cry
One was shot and the other was cut
In prison one died all alone
The last was hung, till he was bone
The other four were hung and shown
And Turpin fell into a rut
He went stealing in the black black night
Part 2: The Highwayman
With the Essex Gang now apart
Poor Dick Turpin had to restart
His highwaymanning had become his art
His horse would gallop with all its might
Robbing coaches became his thing
From behind an oak tree he would spring
“Turpin the Butcher”, he liked the ring
He went stealing in the black black night
It seemed Dick Turpin couldn’t be got
And in prison he would never rot
All alone he began to plot
And no more he had to fight
Till when the night had nearly come
He stayed with wife and had much fun
But soon to Cambridge he had to run
Cause betrayed he was during the night
He went stealing in the black black night
It got worse with a string of robberies
Two men were killed, and died suddenly
Found outside an inn with a horse or three
Accomplices died in the fight
Turpin had made a mistake
Though his life wasn’t just yet at stake
Because he had managed to find an escape
He went running in the black black night
To a hideaway the butcher ran
But a servant saw the guilty man
And so Turpin shot him and fled without plan
After the blast all seemed all right
With rain in his face again he escaped
And left the site without being scraped
After that act the man was reshaped
He escaped in the black rainy night
Part 3: Wanted Man
On a poster Turpin was named
As an outlaw who couldn’t be tamed
For highway robbery he was famed
Five feet and nine inches tall was his height
Light brown was his complexion
And to encourage his detection:
Face thinner towards bottom section
He kept stealing in the black black night
Part 4: John Palmer
One day Turpin changed his name
John Palmer now was part of the game
And now by no one could he be blamed
He often hunted with local men
One day Turpin shot a fighting cock
And up the road soldiers did rock
In prison for a while behind bars and a lock
Depressed that his life had failed again
From stealing in the black black night
Palmer was released and became very rich
But his thieving career soon had a hitch
He built some debt thoughtlessly which
To the tax men didn’t seem right
The lawmen came and put him on trial
Never again Turpin wore a smile
Had the highwayman ridden his last thieving mile?
Locked in prison in the black black night
Turpin pleaded by letter for help to come
In this jail for him it was no fun
His brother-in-law would not pay the sum
Saying “Who to me from York would write?”
To Saffron Walden the letter they took
Where the postman chanced to take a look
And recognized the highway crook
He went on trial in the black black night
Part 5: The Trial
York was where Dick Turpin was taken and tried
“This trial is unfair!” he angrily cried
But all at the time the judge replied
“The time has come to make matters right,
And soon your death will be proclaimed!”
Since by everyone else he was blamed
And for the first time he felt ashamed
Of all the times he had to fight
And no more he stole into the black black night
Some guests to him they came to drink
He didn’t stop to try and think
Or his courage would start to shrink
Inside the cart he showed no fright
Relaxed he bowed to the whole crowd
He jumped from the gallows without a sound
He no more went stealing in the black black night.
