For centuries Peterborough had one lawless day a year, and it fell on Plough Monday, the first Monday after Epiphany.
John Clare wrote down what happened. The plough boys met at the blacksmith’s shop, but not to put on white shirts and ribbons. They blacked their faces with a mixture of soot and grease, and any boy who would not do it was not allowed to come. They found an old plough with no share and no coulter, roped themselves to it, and hauled it from door to door for whatever they could get. They called themselves plough bullocks. The strongest held the plough. Anyone who gave them beer got the wind up in return, which involved choosing the dirtiest patch in the yard, tangling as many of the company as possible in the ropes, and admiring whoever came out filthiest without complaining.
Anyone who gave them nothing got something else. They would lever the shoe scraper out of the doorstep, or wind the householder up in the plough rope. It was a lawless day and the constable rarely bothered to interfere.
The plough witches were a separate party of grown men who went round in the same hours dressed for the occasion. Two of them had blacked faces, straw humps stuffed into their smocks, and hats folded into three corners and chalked with patterns. They carried a besom and a spoon full of soot and grease, and they used it on the faces of any servant maids they could catch, which is why the servant maids stayed out of the way. Among them went the she witch, a man in women’s clothes with no hump and his face painted red. They rattled a box of halfpennies at the door.
At the end of it the bullocks and the witches met up, bought cake and ale, and had a very sociable evening.
Where: The streets of Peterborough, on the first Monday after 6 January.


























