RIDING THE MARCHES

Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 53, Issue 3800, 26 August 1936, Page 7

RIDING THE MARCHES

ANCIENT CEREMONIES AT HAWIICK AND SELKIRK.

(By

W. N. Brown,

in Weekly Scots-

man).

Another year has passed on the Borders, for the Common Ridings and festivals more than any otfher event mark the mile-stones of time throughout the romantic Borderland. In a new world of many interests, which tend to obliviate the traditions and history passed as a heritage from father to son, it is a real pleasure to see and hear the intense local enthusiasm of the Border towns when their old-time horoes and champions are once more depicted in the environment and mentality of the past. The enthusiasm at the Common Ridings is surprising, almost senseless, to the stranger lacking the knowledge of a history writ with battle and bloodshed by a race that held freedom above all. These old-world customs, now a splendid day of remembrance, were once a dangerous and necessary duty when the common lands of the towns were the envy of powerful neighbours, only too ready to seize outlying portions in the days when might was right. The fact that so much common land still retrains is a lasting tribute to the valour and vigilance of the fighting men whose blood still flows in those who guard the dearly won and held possessions.

“Auld Hawick” leads off the weekly fervour and excitement of this cheery month. Hawick has finished its celebrations for this year, but the following particulars are applicable to the celebration in any recent year, and may be regarded as the standard for years to come. For six weeks before the actual day there are many grand rides round the district by the

Cornet and his supporters, young' men in the main, as a symbol of that time when the youth of Hawick defeated an English band after the disaster of Flodden.

“KIRKIN’ O’ THE CORNET.” The actual Common Riding may be said to start with the “Kirkin’ o’ the Comet” on the preceding Sunday at his own church. But Thursday night sees the splendid ceremonial of roaring enthusiasm • when the 1514 flag is entrusted to his charge and the standard is “bussed” with ribbons of the Common Riding colours by the Cornet’s Dass. The Hawick songs aro outstanding in vigour and fine tunes, rousing the old time mentality of independence and freedom. To hear them sung by a vast crowd, singing firm their hearts, is a revelation to those who imagine that they can control emotion and sentiment. Speeches show agfain the glamour and romanticism of the Middle Ages, the pride of Hawick in its gradual development, the close-knit loyalty and love of its people for their ancient town that has the past for splendid memories and the present for civic pride in enterprise and progress. On Friday morning the day opens with the singing of “Teribus,” the immortal lair, on the steps of the Tower Hotel an historic spot indeed, for this was once the house of Douglas of Drumlanrig, and Sir James Douglas of Drumlanrig traditionally granted the valuable gift of the common to the, town of Hawick for the services of its men at Flodden.

With the Cornet at its head the long procession goes through the cheering crowds, and in time comes to Haggis Ha’ where the Comet’s Chase starts, a wild gallop up the Nip Knowes. The boundaries of the town common are 'then ridden as in the old dangerous days, and at the extreme boundary a sod is cut and turned to show that the work has been well and truly done. The after-

noon is passed with horse racing and the Comet’s Ball at night sees out the darkness to another aay of cheery fun and sport. For the ball ends with a curious custom that may well date back to dim days of almost unrecorded time, the days of pagan worship, when the light and life of the sun were recognised by man as the greatest thing of 'all. The young people all go up to the Hawick Moat to see the sun rise above the eastern hills. The moat is a curious mound, perhaps of human construction, and is thought by some to have been a medium in pagan worship. There they dance a reel, and are ready for the great day.

HAWICK’S SONG. On Saturday there is more horse racing on the great open hill above the town, a lovely place with the wide Border land shown in all its endless variety of polling' hills, stern moor and fertile plains. In the afternoon the Cornet hands back the Burgh Flag to the Provost, and is carried shoulder high to the games. There is an atmosphere through the whole affair of kindnes and good humour, a hospitality that is almost embarrassing, and above all a sentiment and pride of town that is a pleasure to hear in these sophisticated days. With such an undying spirit, the song will swell through time in auld Hawick Toon and wherever Hawick folk are met together in the strange wanderings of our race throughout the world.

Peace be thy portion, Hawick, for ever! Thine arts, thy commerce flourish ever! Down to latest ages send it—“Hawick was ever independent.” Teribus, ye Teri Odin, Sons of heroes slain at Flodden, Imitating Border bowmen, Aye defend your rights and common.