"Thou shoud'st have sen un Cap't
Dick"
by George Pritchard Redruth O.C.S.
Being an Imagined conversation between Andrew Vivian and his friend
Richard Trevithick
on the occasion of the running of the replica engine on
Sunday April 28th 2001
Thou shoud'st ave sen un Cap't Dick It t'was a propur job,
They'd even dressed the folk up just to please the mob.
They were stanin side by side and cheerin' as it came,
I never thought I'd seed the day when enjin ran again
But tell me Mr Vivian did they ran it backwards, Sir,
In order to get steam up as we did in yester year?
And did they drive it in t' ditch or was the steering fair?
And are you sure wer Camburn 'ill an not just anywhere?
Oh yes they drove it backwards so as to get up steam,
An, steering, it were playing up just as it should have been.
An when they neared the top of 'ill the enjin almost stopped,
'Build up the steam' John Sawl cried an getun to the top.
They didn' driv'n in ter ditch cause ditch it wer not there,
Once what was Rosewarn's grassy fields wer 'ouses everywhere,
But yes I'm sure 'twas Camburn Hill cause people nevur change
'Twer Camburn faces in the crowd all chanting out your name.
The weather! it was really warm and some in shirtsleeves came,
It all went off with out a 'itch and not a drop o' rain.
And when they reached top of 'ill someone began to sing
And hundreds of them sang out loud "Goin up Camburn 'ill"
again.
Thou shoud'st have seen'n Cap't Dick, It wer a right day out,
Those 'olman lads have done you proud of that there is no doubt.
They recreated enjin and found out all its tricks,
The Night Watch got real worried cause it went at quite a lick.
But let me tell you Cap't, Dick though at Canburn Cross you
stand
I felt you were there in spirit guiding John Sawle's hand.
And now they've done the town up and made it look so grand.
Perhaps at bottom of Camburn ' ill at last they'll let you stand.
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Cap'n Dick's Puffing Devil
By David Oates, Camborne O.C.S.
From out of the past he came,
Out of the pauper's grave,
Home, to Camburn town .
At least in spirit.
Into our regenerated,
Newly-painted, granite-white streets
That for a moment
Hung between present and past -
Sounds and smells of our age
Pull against another time
Of smoke, oil and steam -
Warm wetness on the face
That touches long lost roots.
Waiting ..waiting, In expectant murmur.
Then, round the bend,
Steam-spouting, piston-roaring, whistle-piercing,
The balance tips two hundred years,
Crowd, engine, streets as one,
In common cause.
And singing . Such as only Cornwall knows -
The songs of home
That make the spirit lift and soar -
It binds us fast.
And in that crowd
Now welded into one,
Cap'n Dick came home to stay.