John Thorpe - Thomas Raw

Near Wharnley-Burn farm in the Derwent valley
In a lonely grave on the crest of a hill lies Thomas Raw
He was what they call a moss-trooper
A breed of desperado, who lived outside the law

Well he lived on the land that his fore- fathers ploughed on
When the Prince Bishops called he fought on their side
But when times were hard Thomas took to stealing
And soon his reputation, it spread both far and wide

Well he knew the woods and he knew all the hiding places
From Allansford to Blanchland and beyond
When the Border Warden came to serve his warrant
He rode his horse to the valley and was gone

He and Rowley Harrison they raided
Northwards to the border, where others feared to tread
They took cattle from the worst of the border reivers
And they drove them back to Wharnley Burn
And they left them all for dead

He was excommunicated for his misdeeds
They read his name in every church for miles around
Called him outlaw in the market place in Hexham
Denied him rites of burial in consecrated ground

They made him a stranger in his own land
They drove him to the wastelands to the east and to the west
And when he died in his bed in the winter of 1714
His brothers John and Michael, they laid Thomas Raw to rest

Near Wharnley Burn farm in the Derwent valley
In a lonely grave on the crest of a hill lies Thomas Raw
He was what they call a moss-trooper
A breed of desperado who lived outside the law

Written by:
John Thorpe

Publisher:
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