A well frequented Scarborough hostelry in Carr Streetor Leading Post street witnessed a squabble between Samuel Wharton, sailcoth manufacturer and ship owner Francis Clark in the early 19th century. New plans were afoot for the harbour and town, man Robert Knox had submitted a plan.
The meeting room had a plaster rose in the centre of the ceiling. There was a saying "under the rose and low it be spoken" Peter Pindarmocked the event in verse.
Mr. Clark was out of temper and said "Knox's plan! Tis not, I'm certain.""That's a lie!" said old Sam Wharton. "Thou ne'er could plan, thou silly dog! Thous good for nought but drinking grog!" Mr. Clark responded "You! talk of plans, you stupid ass! First send your spindle shanks to grass!" then Sam fired up.
At this Sam's royal blood did boil like to a port of heated oil A glass of grog, with dextrous grace Old Wharton threw in Franky's face. But Frank, more sturdy and more bold Old Wharton's nose seized, gripping hold, and made His Majesty to roar like a mad bull or a wild boar.
A battle royal now began; each feud assailant chose his man. Glasses and chairs flew round like hail, but scarce a single heart did fail. As Britons bold they scorned to yield, and rivalled many a battle field Cute Lister ,with a deadly blow Brought vapouring Penny very low And Wharton, with his sceptre strong Laid Captain Scott the floor along.
Then youthful Hebden played his part Skilled in the pugilistic art Like Black Richmond all around Brought James Stewart to the ground And soon, amidst this awful strife Some gallant blade has lost his life, But Jennie's presence-lovely,fair,
With looks serene, and gravest air, and speeches soft and words quite sage. Soon calmed the fierceness of their rage. But,all that passed beneath "the Rose", it would be treason to disclose.