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Cory Santos

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Cory Santos is a postgraduate researcher at the University of Lincoln who specialises in the social history of Britain during the Second World War. Besides his main research focuses, he also enjoys local history and the interesting tales it often turns up.


Recently, I received an e-mail from a Lincolnite reader who asked if I could explore the origins of the term “yellowbelly”, which as we know is used to denote someone born and bred in Lincolnshire.

Having heard the usual stories and looked deeper into its meaning, I have come across countless claims to its origins. While impossible to truly pin down the term’s starting point, I will share a few of my favourite stories for why us Lincolnites are called yellowbellies.

The Royal Lincolnshire Regiment and Royal Lincolnshire Militia are both believed to have sported yellow on their uniform.

The Royal Lincolnshire Regiment and Royal Lincolnshire Militia are both believed to have sported yellow on their uniform.

Perhaps the most popular story for the origins of the term yellowbelly is one concerning the apparel worn by local regiments. According to the story, officers in the Royal Lincolnshire Militia, who were stationed at what is now the Museum of Lincolnshire Life, wore waistcoats which were bright yellow in colour. According to the story, this made the officers much more visible to their troops in the field.

In another version of the tale, soldiers in the Lincolnshire Regiment (which was formed in 1685 and saw action throughout the world, including the American Revolution, the battle of Blenheim, the Napoleonic Wars and the two World Wars) wore a uniform of green, which featured yellow facings and yellow buttons on their coats.

Several other tales revolve around the people of the county as the reason for the term. One such tale states that farmers often worked their fields shirtless during the summer. Due to the large amounts of bending during their work their backs would become bronzed with the sun, but their stomachs would remain pale and have a yellow appearance to them.

Another story derogatorily stated that dwellers of the Fens would often crawl around on their stomachs, with their clothes gaining a yellow belly as a result. Yet another origin myth, again tied to the Fens, states that the opium used to combat malaria that was prevalent in the area in earlier times often gave the skin a strange yellow tinge, hence yellowbelly.

A popular tale for the creation of the term relates to the old stagecoaches, which connected the city to the wider country (particularly London and York). According to the story, the carriages featured a distinctive yellow paint scheme and upon their arrival in another city locals were reputed to say, “here comes the Lincolnshire yellowbelly”.

It's thought a certain kind of newt common in the Lincolnshire Fens had a yellow belly. Photo: Steve Jurvetson

It’s thought a certain kind of newt common in the Lincolnshire Fens had a yellow belly. Photo: Steve Jurvetson

Besides the inhabitants and vehicles of the county, there are also several tales relating to the wildlife of Lincolnshire being the cause for the name. The traditional sheep of the county, the Lincoln Longwool, supposedly provided the inspiration for the term, as its grazing through mustard plants resulted in its thick wool being stained yellow. There are also tales that the term derives from the frogs and newts of the Fens, who feature bright yellow abdomens.

It seems that there are as many origins for the wonderful phrase ‘yellowbelly’ as there are days in the month. While I would have liked to have provided every single story, it simply couldn’t be done; partially because of the sheer number of them and because I simply do not know them all.

I would therefore love to hear from you all. Do you have a favourite story of the origin of yellowbelly, or do you know any other tales? Please join in the discussion in the comments, the Lincolnite Facebook page, or on Twitter (use the hashtag #yellowbelly).

Cory Santos is a postgraduate researcher at the University of Lincoln who specialises in the social history of Britain during the Second World War. Besides his main research focuses, he also enjoys local history and the interesting tales it often turns up.

When one thinks about the great stories of Robin Hood and his Merry Men, they instantly associate them with Sherwood Forest and Nottinghamshire. There is, however, a direct link with the characters in the tales and Lincoln, that being the very clothes which he and his men wore.

Lincoln in the Middle Ages was a prosperous and thriving city, not just because of its farming links and minting of money, but also through its various merchants. Perhaps the most famous of the city’s wares were its beautifully coloured and highly prized textiles, with two shades in particular most coveted: Lincoln green and Lincoln scarlet.

While there were many other notable centres for the dying of wool (particularly famous was Kendal for its green), Lincoln was renowned throughout the kingdom not just for the high quality of the dyes used, but also for the consistency of their colour (Kendal green, for example, was notoriously inconsistent in its colour).

Robin Hood in Lincoln Red and Lincoln Green.

Robin Hood in Lincoln Red and Lincoln Green.

Green, or grene/greene as it was known during the period, was the more inexpensive of the two coloured fabrics from Lincoln. The shade was created by first dying the wool with woad, which gave the fabric a deep, strong blue colour and then redying it with a yellow plant, known as ‘dyers broom’ or ‘waxen wood’ which, combined with the blue, gave it a consistent and attractive light olive green colour.

Lincoln scarlet (known then as Lincoln graine/greyne) was a much more sought after and expensive cloth than green, aimed at the more affluent members of society. While the green was moderately affordable (3/-, or 15p, for an ‘ell,’ or 1.14 square metres of fabric), scarlet cost considerably more (6/8d, or 37p today, for an ‘ell’). The reason for this staggering cost increase was the quality of the dyes used and the difficulty in sourcing them. In order to create the deep scarlet hew, a dye from Turkey called ‘Kermes’ (from which the English word ‘crimson’ developed) was imported. This dye was made from the crushing of a particular insect, giving a more richer colour than could be created with the dyes native to Britain.

Lincoln Green was the popular shade for fabric worn by Robin and his merry men.

Lincoln Green was the popular shade for fabric worn by Robin and his merry men.

The resulting scarlet fabric was highly prized and symbolic of ones perceived social standing and affluence. It is interesting to note, that in one particular ballad of Robin Hood, popular in the 18th century, it stated that while in the forest with his men, he wore the same Lincoln green outfit that they did, but when he was present at court or in a similar social event, he would wear Lincoln scarlet, while they would wear green, thus symbolically showcasing his higher rank.

While the prestige and popularity of Lincoln green and scarlet were short-lived (by the end of the Middle Ages the dying of the colours are referred to as ‘ancient’), the textile business in Lincoln continued to soldier on. While not as thriving as it had been in the medieval period, attempts were made, particularly by the aristocratic in the city, to provide support to the ancient trade.

Most notable amongst these attempts was the “Stuff Ball”, which began in 1789 and lasted through the 19th century. Begun by Lady Banks, the wife of Sir Joseph Banks, the famous naturalist, a yearly ball was held in which all attendees were required to wear “Lincolnshire stuff”, or items made from locally produced wool. Unfortunately, after 1820 the changing tides of ladies fashion shifted away from wool and from that time the ball became less associated with the wool trade.

While it may seem a long time since the city was at the centre of the fashion industry, it was an important time in Lincoln’s history and one that still lives on in the ever popular Robin Hood tales. So next time you find yourself complaining that in order to purchase this season’s must-have style you have to travel all the way to Nottingham, take a quick second to savour the irony that 800 years ago, it was the other way round!

Cory Santos is a postgraduate researcher at the University of Lincoln who specialises in the social history of Britain during the Second World War. Besides his main research focuses, he also enjoys local history and the interesting tales it often turns up.

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