Chicken

EDWARD CHICKEN (1698 - 1746)

Chicken lived opposite the Three Tuns (demolished 1907) on the corner of Low Friar street and Newgate Street in Newcastle. Like his parson brother, he was educated at St John's charity school, and later became a teacher himself. He was regarded as man of wisdom in the town, arbitrated minor disputes and became known as 'The Mayor of White Cross' from the ancient monument close by. He was also clerk of St John's Church for 25 years, and was buried there in 1746. His celebrated 'Collier's Wedding' is a remarkably frank poem (unthinkable in the next century) with fascinating glimpses of marriage observances in the coalfield. The drunken wedding reception is described with startling realism, while even the church ceremony is somewhat rowdy:

For some perhaps that were three score
Were never in a church before.

And indeed:

Our couple now kneel down to pray,
Much unacquainted with the way.
Whole troops of colliers swarm around
And seize poor Jenny on the ground,
Put up their hands to loose her garters,
And work for pluck about her quarters,
Till ribbons from her legs are torn
And round the church in triumph borne.

The bride is prepared for her wedding-night with much poetic relish.

Myers Literary Guide:	The North-East
EDWARD CHICKEN (1698 - 1746) Chicken lived opposite the Three Tuns (demolished 1907) on the corner of Low Friar street and Newgate Street in Newcastle. Like his parson brother, he was educated at St John's charity school, and later became a teacher himself. He was regarded as man of wisdom in the town, arbitrated minor disputes and became known as 'The Mayor of White Cross' from the ancient monument close by. He was also clerk of St John's Church for 25 years, and was buried there in 1746. His celebrated 'Collier's Wedding' is a remarkably frank poem (unthinkable in the next century) with fascinating glimpses of marriage observances in the coalfield. The drunken wedding reception is described with startling realism, while even the church ceremony is somewhat rowdy: For some perhaps that were three score Were never in a church before. And indeed: Our couple now kneel down to pray, Much unacquainted with the way. Whole troops of colliers swarm around And seize poor Jenny on the ground, Put up their hands to loose her garters, And work for pluck about her quarters, Till ribbons from her legs are torn And round the church in triumph borne. The bride is prepared for her wedding-night with much poetic relish.
Return to Index	On to next Author