As summer approaches and the nights grow longer it is approaching the time when in the secluded combes of Dartmoor the nightly Piskie Revels take place. There amongst the purple heather and the crackling gorse the little folk dance and prance the night away. Often, as the evening breeze floats …

Thomas Parker came of a Devonshire strain ; His habits were simple ; his habit was plain ; A long-skirted coat he was wont to wear, Which gave him rather a rustified air ; Thanks to his wife’s needle, it always look’d neat, Although of a pattern quite obsolete. It …

I have received several emails requesting the entire poem from which on the Dartmoor Piskies page I have taken the quote; ‘Thar be piskies up to Dartmoor’ and after much searching I have found the following. I am unsure as to whether this is the full version or as to …

Beloved old tor, fully fifty summers known To me, though countless storms have o’er thee swept, And lightenings fierce around thy crags have leapt ‘Midst all unscathed, still steadfast thy thrown! Less happy me, the flight of time I moan Its numbering influence hath o’er me crept:- My feet, that …

One of the secret gems of Dartmoor is Peter Tavy Combe which is often overlooked by the rambler: ‘A ramble up Peter Tavy Combe will be fraught with enjoyment. Fine tors crown the heights above it— Staple Tor, Roose Tor, White Tor, and beyond the valley of the Walkham, the …

Although we have never actually met, over the years Paul and myself have had various communications which were mostly on the subject of Dartmoor and letterboxing. Like many of us Dartmoor enthusiasts Paul became acquainted with the place through letterboxing. Having been bitten by the ‘boxing’ bug Paul began to …

To Siward’s Cross. Old Cross, how many summers bright have flown Since first was here up-reared thy sacred form; How many winters hast thou stood alone, And braved the storm. Of those who shaped and fashioned thee with care, From rough block that midst the heather lay, The memory, like …

What ‘appened was, back in the halcyon days when Queen Victoria ruled the empire there lived a very prosperous family. Their home was a huge mansion on the edge of the northern moor. The husband of the house was a hard working businessman who lived with his wife, who we …

Whilst browsing through an old publication I came across this old Devonshire dialect poem called ‘The Road to Moreton’. This refers to one of the many roads and lanes that converge at Moretonhampstead and aptly describes the journey through the various seasons. I’m not to sure what it’s alluding to …

The Moorland It is dawn upon the Moorlands, and the shadows of the night Through the deep and silent valleys steal before the morning light ; Over yonder hill-top rises like a burning shield the sun Slowly wakes the grim old desert, and a new day has begun. All unseen …