The George stands at the top of Great Norbury Street in Hyde. The surrounding area used to be known as "Long Cinder Croft".. This was always a good place to watch live bands. It's a shame to see it close as there aren't many good live venues around Hyde anymore.
Shooting A Hare
(A True Tale Of Some Hyde Cronies)
An’ does do yet, for owt aw know,
A chap weel known as t’ Church Street ghost;
An’ often have aw yerd him boast
Heaw he on one eventful night
Two brave policemen put to fright.
Of course, `tis not for me to say;
For this same ghost, nicknamed “Owd Nap”,
Is recon’s sich a lying chap
He’ll entertain yo’ with a skit,
An’ tell it different in a bit.
A chap called Joss, he fairly sowed;
His other name did transpire,
And I, of course, did not inquire;
But th’ tale’s bin towd to me as true,
So neaw aw’ll try an’ tell it you.
An he some cheese an’ bread did gorge,
Weshin’ it deawn wi’ royal fours.
Thus adding’ too his former scores;
This same “Owd Nap” went dartin’ in
An greeted Josho’ with a grin.
“Why, what’s up neaw?” Josh then replied;
Aw’ve com’n throo’t gardens, deawn `ith Broo’,
An mind, aw’m telling’ thi’ what’s true;
In owd Zack’s garden aw declare,
Aw’ve seen a great big thumpin’ hare!”
“It’s true,” said “Nap,” “Ther’s not a deaubt;
Awd seed it sure enough,” he said,
“On owd Zack Taylor’s parsley bed;
But com thisel’, and have a peep;
Aw think it must bi fast asleep!”
Joss look’s as sly as ony meause,
An’ focht a gun fro’ eaut o’th’ heause;
“Come on,” he said, an off they went,
To shoot that hare wer his intent;
He towd “Owd Nap” that hare he’d pot,
He awles wer a deadly shot.
Ses Josh “Aw’ll tell thi’ what we’ll do;
We’ll have a fost-class supper t’ neet,
An’ gi th’ Church Ringers o a treat!”
“Agreed,” said Nap”; “Aw’ll bi’ mi’ share,
That is, if wi con shoot this hair.”
Sweet-scented blossom deck t’ the thorn;
Scarcely a sound of aught was heard,
Except the twittering o’ a bird,
As “Nap” an Josh, with muffled tread,
Theau mun creep as near as theau con get;
Joss crept upon his honds an’ knees
An’ geet behind some current trees;
And soon that hare he did espy,
And fixed on it his eagle eye.
It look ‘t just like a full-blown rose;
Good gracious, heaw it shein’t it th’ sun,
Reflectin’ whiskey, ale, an rum;
His mirth he scarcely could contain,
When Josho’ took deliberate aim
When Josho’ for his prize did run;
When lo ! The sight that met his gaze,
The parsley bed was in a blaze !
That hare was nothing but a skin
With hay and rags well stuffed therein !
The shot had set the hay on fire,
And caused this dreadful mischief dire
Joss waved his arms, an’ stamped abeaut,
Till th’ flames he’d partly trampled eaut;
Then turned in righteous indignation
To seek from “Nap” an explanation;
But that old bird had winged his flight,
As tho’ he’d been some fairly sprite.
And made his exit from the scene -
Vanished and in a twinkling, too,
As only ghosts are known to do -
Ta’en to his heels up Hyde Church Broos,
To tell his boosing pals the news.
First clutched his gun, an’ then his hair -
Vowed by the hare he’d shot (poor chap)
He’d bi revenged upon “Owd Nap”; -
Slunk off toart whoam, went straight to bed,
An’ stopt theer for a week, it’s said
Heaw in th’ Church Broo poor Joss wer sowd;
An’ to this day “Owd Nap” will boast
Heaw he the famous Church Street ghost
Stuffed th’hare, an’ placed it theer hissel,
An’ th’ rest o’th tale yon yer’d mi’ tell.