“Through cobbled streets so cold and damp
The Knocker-Upper man goes creeping
Tap-tapping at the window pane
To wake the town from sleeping.
He said “Eh thee up and stir thi’self
The factory ooter’s blowin’
So get up from your nice warm bed
To work you must be goin’”
-The Knocker Upper Man by Mike Canavan
Unknown knocker upper Northern England
The Knocker’s
With our world in a spinning state of constant change, there are always those left obsolete. Before the conception of the alarm clock, there were those that walked the dark streets to wake the slumbers of the working man, they were the Knocker Upper’s…
To wake people from their sleep, knocker uppers were employed to knock on windows or doors to wake the workers. Mostly done with long poles fitted with snuffer’s many times being double employed as the lamplighters who would light and put out the street lamps at dusk and dawn.
Some knockers like Mary Smith used her trusty pea shooter to rattle the windows.
Mary Smith shooting her dried peas at waking windows
Drawn on a pub wall in Hanky Park, a calling card ode is still visable for the local Knocker upper Jack Fellows.
Jack with his two dogs, one called “Lol” and another tiny dog called “Twerp” which he kept in his jacket pocket, was one of the last working Knocker uppers.
Jack Fellows with his dogs Lol and Twerp
With time and the advent of inventions to lesser human interaction, how we live, work and go about our days are forever changing…
Yorkshire Evening Post 1922
I feel this British folk song sums it all up nicely…
The Knocker Upper Man
Through cobbled streets so cold and damp
The Knocker-Upper man goes creeping
Tap-tapping at the window pane
To wake the town from sleeping.
Chorus :
He said “Eh thee up and stir thi’self
The factory ooter’s blowin’
So get up from your nice warm bed
To work you must be goin’”
Day in day out the year about
Though snow or rain are fallin
You’d hear his clogs along the street
You’d hear his voice a’callin’
All the early-rising working folk
The Knocker-Upper’s call they heeded
But time goes by, old customs die
Now he’s no longer needed
Through streets of quiet suburbia
The Knocker-Upper’s ghost goes creeping
Now listening to the ringing sound
That wakes the town from sleeping
by Mike Canavan
Grannie Cousins, local knocker upper – 1912