Lincolnshire Day

Myths & Legends

What on Earth is a Yellowbelly?

For years, anyone born and bred in the county of Lincolnshire has been known as a Yellowbelly.

Quite why is a cause of much debate, as you will see...

If there's one thing you can say about true yellowbellies it's that they're an argumentative lot. The easiest way to prove this is to ask them where the name 'yellowbelly' came from. Chances are every single person you ask will have a slightly different version of events. So here for your enlightenment and delight are a few of the most common stories.

The Royal North Lincolnshire Militia
The building on Burton Road, Lincoln that is now home to the Museum of Lincolnshire Life was once the barracks of the Royal North Lincolnshire Militia. The officers of this regiment would wear bright yellow waistcoats on the battlefield. This made it easier for their men to spot them (let's overlook the fact that it also made them rather obvious targets...) and also earned them the name Lincolnshire Yellowbellies.

Newts and frogs
There is, apparently, a breed of newt common to the fens that has a bright yellow underside. So now you know.
Should you not be very partial to newts Marion Christy, a yellowbelly herself, was always told that it was frogs that had the yellow bellies and were rather partial to the damp conditions of the undrained fens.

Farmers
During summer the farmers would often work without their shirts on (the saucy devils). As they tended the fields they would be bent over, and get a lovely suntan on their back. Their fronts however would be in the shadows the whole time and so would stay white. The reflection of the corn is said to have given a yellow hue to their bellies.

Mail Coach
The mail coach that ran from Lincoln to London had a yellow undercarriage. Upon it's arrival in London it is said that the locals would call out "Here comes the Lincolnshire yellowbelly". Geoffrey Alan Wildman assures us that this is the real reason, although he tells me that the coach went from Lincoln to York.

Sheep
The traditional breed of sheep in the county is the Lincoln Longwool. As the name suggests, it's fleece was, well, long. It looked rather like the sheep in question had a bad perm. These sheep would often graze in the fields of mustard that were once a common sight around Lincolnshire. As their shaggy coat dragged along the ground it would pick up pollen from the mustard flowers and give them, you've guessed it, a yellow belly.

The Lincolnshire Poacher

The Lincolnshire Poacher is the quick march of RAF College Cranwell, the officer training school of the Royal Air Force located in Lincolnshire and was the march of the 10th Regiment of Foot and its successor the Royal Lincolnshire Regiment. The Lincolnshire Poacher is also the regimental song and a march for the 2nd Battalion Royal Anglian Regiment "the Poachers"; the song is very important to the battalion and can be heard many times being sung at full volume from barrack blocks, messes and parties wherever a "poacher" is based. It is also the authorised march of The Lincoln and Welland Regiment of the Canadian Forces.

The Lincolnshire Poacher
When I was bound apprentice in famous Lincolnshire
Full well I served my master for nigh on seven years
Till I took up to poaching as you shall quickly hear
Oh, 'tis my delight on a shiny night in the season of the year.

As me and my companions was setting out a snare
'Twas then we spied the gamekeeper, for him we didn't care
For we can wrestle and fight, my boys, and jump from anywhere
Oh, 'tis my delight on a shiny night in the season of the year.

As me and my companions was setting four or five
And taking them all up again, we caught a hare alive
We caught a hare alive, my boys, and through the woods did steer
Oh, 'tis my delight on a shiny night in the season of the year.

We threw him over my shoulder, boys, and then we trudged home
We took him to a neighbour's house and sold him for a crown
We sold him for a crown, my boys, but I divven't tell you where
Oh, 'tis my delight on a shiny night in the season of the year.

Success to every gentleman that lives in Lincolnshire
(Alt. Bad luck to every magistrate)
Success to every poacher that wants to sell a hare
Bad luck to every gamekeeper that will not sell his deer
Oh, 'tis my delight on a shiny night in the season of the year.