Odd names

[happy daze john in oz]

One of our phone companies here has a competition going, find the oddest name for a suburb or town/village. They have put up two examples of this,

Middlefart, a place somewhere in UK and Pratts Bottom, in Kent.

How many other madcap names are there in UK?

[Don Rafferty]

There is a Cum-Cum Hill not far from me, also Trotters Bottom.

[gray_marian]

Inchbare, Angus, Inchinnan, Renfrewshire. Inchmore, Aberdeenshire. Fattiehead, Banffshire.
Butt of Lewis,Hebrides. Bladda, Paisley. A few more, but dare not print!

Just had a look at Wales....some crackers there also

[Keith Tindell]

I think I may have posted on this before, but here on the island we have a village of Apse Heath, kids in the village for years (some must be grandads and beyond now) have altered the P to an R, to this day the council have to keep painting the R back to a P, days later it's back, KTKT

[John Albert Evans]

Bullyhole Bottom, Monmouth.
Cockplay, Northumberland.
Fanny Barks, Durham.

John

[Richard Quartermaine]

Here is a poem about the little town of Come-By-Chance in Walgett Shire in New South Wales that first appeared in 'The Bulletin' on 21 March 1891. Richard
Come-By-Chance -- A B "Banjo" Paterson
(Poem #1277) Come-By-Chance
As I pondered very weary o'er a volume long and dreary —
For the plot was void of interest — 'twas the Postal Guide, in fact, —
There I learnt the true location, distance, size, and population
Of each township, town, and village in the radius of the Act.

And I learnt that Puckawidgee stands beside the Murrumbidgee,
And that Booleroi and Bumble get their letters twice a year,
Also that the post inspector, when he visited Collector,
Closed the office up instanter, and re-opened Dungalear.

But my languid mood forsook me, when I found a name that took me,
Quite by chance I came across it — "Come-by-Chance" was what I read;
No location was assigned it, not a thing to help one find it,
Just an N which stood for northward, and the rest was all unsaid.

I shall leave my home, and forthward wander stoutly to the northward
Till I come by chance across it, and I'll straightway settle down,
For there can't be any hurry, nor the slightest cause for worry
Where the telegraph don’t reach you nor the railways run to town.

And one's letters and exchanges come by chance across the ranges,
Where a wiry young Australian leads a pack-horse once a week,
And the good news grows by keeping, and you’re spared the pain of weeping
Over bad news when the mailman drops the letters in the creek.

But I fear, and more's the pity, that there’s really no such city,
For there’s not a man can find it of the shrewdest folk I know,
"Come-by-chance", be sure it never means a land of fierce endeavour, —
It is just the careless country where the dreamers only go.

. . . . .

Though we work and toil and hustle in our life of haste and bustle,
All that makes our life worth living comes unstriven for and free;
Man may weary and importune, but the fickle goddess Fortune
Deals him out his pain or pleasure, careless what his worth may be.

All the happy times entrancing, days of sport and nights of dancing,
Moonlit rides and stolen kisses, pouting lips and loving glance:
When you think of these be certain you have looked behind the curtain,
You have had the luck to linger just a while in "Come-by-chance".
-- A B "Banjo" Paterson

[gray_marian]

#6, Richard My Dear, A delight as always

[Richard Quartermaine]

Thank you Marion. I love my two heroes Banjo Patterson and Henry Lawson You might also like Banjo's 'Mulga Bill'. Mulga is dry country scrub. http://www.wallisandmatilda.com.au/m...-bicycle.shtml

Richard

[Keith at Tregenna]

Lord Hereford's Knob or more locally known as Twmpa.

Twmpa or Lord Hereford's Knob is a mountain in south-east Wales, forming a part of the great northwest scarp of the Black Mountains. It lies 3 km west of the border with England, and around 7 km south of Hay-on-Wye. To the northeast lies the Gospel Pass through which runs a minor road between Hay and the Llanthony Valley. A ridge known as Darren Lwyd tapers away for about 3km to the southeast of the summit.

K.

[gray_marian]

#8, Richard, Link states '404 not found'! Shall route around later today as my eyes are closing against my will! Son and I share similar love of verse so will send to him alsoThank you.......Got it Richard Son will enjoy with his morning coffee.


'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that caught the cycling craze;
He turned away the good old horse that served him many days;
He dressed himself in cycling clothes, resplendent to be seen;
He hurried off to town and bought a shining new machine;
And as he wheeled it through the door, with air of lordly pride,
The grinning shop assistant said, "Excuse me, can you ride?"


"See here, young man," said Mulga Bill, "from Walgett to the sea,
From Conroy's Gap to Castlereagh, there's none can ride like me.
I'm good all round at everything as everybody knows,
Although I'm not the one to talk - I hate a man that blows.
But riding is my special gift, my chiefest, sole delight;
Just ask a wild duck can it swim, a wildcat can it fight.
There's nothing clothed in hair or hide, or built of flesh or steel,
There's nothing walks or jumps, or runs, on axle, hoof, or wheel,
But what I'll sit, while hide will hold and girths and straps are tight:
I'll ride this here two-wheeled concern right straight away at sight."


'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that sought his own abode,
That perched above Dead Man's Creek, beside the mountain road.
He turned the cycle down the hill and mounted for the fray,
But 'ere he'd gone a dozen yards it bolted clean away.
It left the track, and through the trees, just like a silver steak,
It whistled down the awful slope towards the Dead Man's Creek.


It shaved a stump by half an inch, it dodged a big white-box:
The very wallaroos in fright went scrambling up the rocks,
The wombats hiding in their caves dug deeper underground,
As Mulga Bill, as white as chalk, sat tight to every bound.
It struck a stone and gave a spring that cleared a fallen tree,
It raced beside a precipice as close as close could be;
And then as Mulga Bill let out one last despairing shriek
It made a leap of twenty feet into the Dean Man's Creek.


'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that slowly swam ashore:
He said, "I've had some narrer shaves and lively rides before;
I've rode a wild bull round a yard to win a five-pound bet,
But this was the most awful ride that I've encountered yet.
I'll give that two-wheeled outlaw best; it's shaken all my nerve
To feel it whistle through the air and plunge and buck and swerve.
It's safe at rest in Dead Man's Creek, we'll leave it lying still;
A horse's back is good enough henceforth for Mulga Bill."