Mick Haywood's Song Wordbook

Leeds Years

Newspaper article and photo of Kinder Scout mass trespass

The Mass Trespass

Manchester Rambler


This song ‘The Manchester Rambler’ was written ten years before I was born. I can’t recall when or where I first heard or learnt this song, but it seems like I have always known it. It was written in 1932 by Ewan MacColl shortly after he had participated in the ‘Kinder Trespass’ in the Derbyshire Peak District on 24th April 1932.

It was organised to increase public awareness and highlight the fact that walkers were denied access to areas of open country. The then newly formed ‘Ramblers Association’ was seen to be too inactive by some ramblers so the more militant section, who were members of the ‘Young Communist League,’ decided to take matters into their own hands, and organised the mass trespass.

During the trespass the four hundred plus protesters were confronted by eight gamekeepers and in the following fracas one gamekeeper was injured. The chief organiser and four others were arrested, tried, found guilty and received prison sentences for riotous behaviour.

Seventeen years later the participants achieved their goal with the passing of the ‘National Parks and Access to the Countryside Act 1949 which granted them ‘the right to roam’. 

Manchester Rambler

I've been over Snowdon, I've slept out on Crowden
I've camped by the Wainstones as well
I've sunbathed on Kinder, been burnt to a cinder
And many more things I can tell
The heather has oft been me pillow
The sky been me roof overhead
And sooner than part from the mountains, I love
I think I would rather be dead

Chorus:
I'm a rambler, I'm a rambler from Manchester way
I get all me pleasure the hard moorland way
I may be a wage slave on Monday
But I am a free man on Sunday


The day was just ending and I was descending
By Grindsbrook along Upper Tor
When a voice cried "Hey you" in the way keepers do
He'd the worst face that ever I saw
The tone of his voice was unfriendly
In the teeth of his fury I said
"Jack, sooner than part from the mountains, I love
I think I would rather be dead"

He called me a louse, he said "Think of the grouse"
Well I thought, but I just couldn't see
Why all Kinder Scout and the moors all about
Couldn’t contain his poor grouse and me
He said "All this land is my master's"
At that I stood shaking my head
For no man has the right to the mountains, I love
Than to the deep sea ocean bed.

I fell in love with a maid, a spot welder by trade
Her cheeks like the Rowan in bloom
And the blue of her eye matched the clear moorland sky
And I loved her from April till June
On the day that we should have been married
I went for a ramble instead
For sooner than part from the mountains, I love
I think I would rather be dead.

So, I'll go where I will over mountain and hill
And I'll lay where the bracken is deep
I belong to the mountains, to the clear crystal fountains
With heather tracks rugged and steep
I've seen the white hare on the mountains
The curlew fly high overhead
And sooner than part from the mountains, I love
I think I would rather be dead.

About Mick

Mick Haywood is a traditional folk singer & folk song collector who has run and organised folk clubs and festivals for many years. He now lives in Whitby, North Yorkshire.