I was recently introduced to the modern folk song ‘One Day’ by Martin Simpson, based on a poem by Martin Taylor, which was written on the loss of his son1. The song itself is beautiful, and I was struck by one particular verse:
The twin oaks in the hedgerow grow strong from such sadness
Grown from the grave of a lost Gypsy child
And the leaves and the long grass, they whisper your name
My Romany chavo, so dear and so wild.
Taylor is of gypsy heritage, and it seems that this verse refers to a tradition where ‘when a gypsy child is buried, it is buried with an acorn in each hand, and from the acorns grow twin oaks.’2
It’s certainly a moving image, and unfortunately I haven’t been able to find many other references to this tradition. I would be very interested to read more about it, if anyone can suggest any sources.
Warwickshire graves?
More specifically, I would be interested to know whether any such graves are still marked in Warwickshire. Travellers have lived and moved throughout Warwickshire for hundreds of years. Looking through parish registers, you occasionally find references to baptisms and burials marked as ‘A Traveller’ or ‘A Gypsy’. There is one particularly poignant entry for 12 June 1902 of a showman’s child who died at Long Compton aged only four.3 Evidently not all travellers adhered to this tradition of burial, if indeed it was practised at all in Warwickshire.
Is anyone aware of any such twin oaks in the hedgerows of Warwickshire? Granted, such trees also occur naturally, and twin oaks in some cases may have been ‘created deliberately to increase the potential yield of bark for tanning’.4 However, there may be the possibility that they mark the site of a grave. The size of the tree may even indicate the age of the site. Of course, there are no certainties and lots of guesswork, but it’s a fascinating thought all the same.
Living memory
The idea of these trees, a living and growing memorial, serves such a contrast with written documents or carved stone graves. So often the natural landscape seems timeless and ‘out of our hands’. This tradition serves as a reminder that nature also has a history. The landscape is not unchanging and impersonal, but grows from our actions and reflects the lives of those who have occupied it.
1 Mike Harding, “Monumental new song from Martin Simpson”
2 James Taylor, “Martin Simpson’s New Song About My Brother”
3 Long Compton Parish Register, Warwickshire County Record Office, Reel 1, DR1145/2.
4 Steven Falk, “The Trees of Warwickshire, Coventry and Solihull”
Comments
Another possible explanation for a cluster of trees growing together could be a cache of nuts buried by a squirrel, or other creature, and never dug up again.
Yes, I have heard and experienced this custom. My Grandmother was Romany, but her immediate family stopped travelling before she was born. She still had a very strong connection with her family roots and kept in touch with members of her family who traveled when they would “stop by” at the end of the lane. She often would tell me stories and customs and teach me Angloromani language…..anyway to the burial custom…yes, she often spoke of this, that a child would be buried holding acorns (? buried in a cross shape with their arms out-stretched) so that the burial would be marked by the twin oaks.
If we passed such a site we would always stop the car and she would get out and pay her respects often by leaving some wild cut flowers by the site. We would stand with heads bowed and then carry on. My Gran was born in 1902 and so I would think many customs would have still be very fresh to her family. Her name was Rose (Rosa) Brown-Smith. We are from Yorkshire, or that is the land we “borrowed”.
We first noticed an unexpected number of double oaks along a green lane near my house some years ago. Then I came across the story of gypsy customs for burying their children just outside their camps. The Green outside my house was used by gypsy until 1920s so putting all this together we are sure we have an identifiable children’s graveyard
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