Six Pretty Maids

 

(Spoken ) The first time I heard this song was one night in the summer time. Some Lockes was camped just by us and they were singing it one night, one of them was. I said, “I should like to learn that song” and he said, well, “If you listen a time or two you’ll soon learn them”, so I did.

 

It’s of a young fellow from the North Country

And he came a-loading[?] to me

He promised he’d take me up to the North land

And there he’d marry me.

 

“Come bring to me your father’s gold

And your mother’s wealth”, said he

“And the two best horses that stands in the stalls

Where there stands thirty and three.”

 

She brought him out her milk-white steed

Also a dapple-grey

Many miles they rode till they reached the sea

So long before it was day.

 

“Come light, come light from off your steed

Deliver him now unto me

For six pretty fair maids I have drownded here

The seventh one you shall be.

 

Come strip me off your fine silken clothes

And all your jewels”, said he

“For better I sell them for what they are worth

Than they rot with you under the sea.”

 

“Oh stay, oh stay, you false-hearted man

And turn your head”, said she

“For not fitting it is that a ruffian like you

A naked lady should see.”

 

So he turned his head while she undressed

To where the leaves were green

But she caught him by the small of the waist

And she flung him into the sea.

 

He plunged high, he plunged low

And at last the side reached he

“Oh save my life, my pretty fair maid

And my bride you shall be.”

 

“Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man

Lie there instead of me

For if six pretty fair maids you have drownded here

The seventh one has drownded thee.”

 

She mounted on her milk-white steed

And she led the dapple-grey

And she rode until she reached her house

Just as it was breaking the day.

 

Now, the parrot that was in the window so high

Looked out as he saw her ride by

“Oh where hast thou been, thou wilful child

Some ruffian has led thee astray.”

 

“Don’t prittle, don’t prattle, my pretty Polly

And tell no tales on me

And thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold

The door of the best ivory.”

 

“Why shoutest so loud, my pretty Polly

So loud and so early, Polly”

“Oh the cat has climbed up in the window so high

I fear that he will have me.”

 

“Well done, well done, my pretty Polly

You’ll change your tale for me

So thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold

The door of the best ivory.

Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold

And the door of the best ivory.”

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Turmot-Hoeing

 

Now the first job that I worked at

For maister farmer Vart

He come to I one day and he said

“A first-class turnip-hoer thee’t art”

 

But them flies, them flies, them flies be on the turnips

It’s all my eye and no use to try

To keep ‘em off the turnips.

 

The second place that I went to

I took ‘em by the job

And if only an elder son I had

Far better I to had went to quad

 

For the flies, the flies, the flies got on them turnips

It’s all my eye and no use to try

To keep ‘em off them turnips

 

But there’s some delights in harvesting

And some been fond of mowing

But of all the jobs that be on a farm

Give I the turnip hoeing

 

But the flies, the flies, the flies got on the turnips

But it’s all my eye and no use to try

To keep ‘em off the turnips.

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Field of Barley

 

(Spoken) Mam was really fond of the singing. Her used to sing some of the old songs. If there was any of the old songs that we fancied we’d say, well “Sing us so-and-so”, her’d sing. This is one as I used to like her to sing, but I don’t know it all. I’ll sing what I do know of it.

 

As I was walking one May morn

One morning very early

I overtook a pretty fair maid

Walking through a field of barley.

 

“Where are you going to, my pretty maid

Where are you going, my honey.’”

She answered me quite readily,

“On an errand for my mummy.”

 

Her shoes were black, her stockings white

Her buckles shone like silver

A saucy gleam was in her eye

And her hair hung down her shoulder.

 

“When shall I see you, my pretty fair maid

When shall I see you, my honey”

“I durst not see you, Sir”, she said

“Because of my mummy.”

 

I pressed to see my pretty fair maid

I pressed to see my honey

“Come and see me, Sir”, she answered me

“When the moon above shines clearly.”

 

Her shoes were black, her stockings white

Her buckles shone like silver

A saucy gleam was in her eye

And her hair hung down her shoulder.

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Talk about singing

 

Oh, yes, Sir, fancied myself as a bit of a singer, so, we was in the pub and they’d say, “Give us a song, Fred” and I’d say, “Oh, what do you want, oh, want a loud ‘un ?”, Farmer’s Boy or Farmer’s Daughter, any of them. “Cost you a pint” I used to say. I used to sing like that or I used to sing some others. Then I picked the song up and sing ‘em at ‘em. Any country song used to be a favourite.

 

 

The Jolly Waggoner

 

When first I went a-waggoning, a-waggoning did go,

I filled my parents’ hearts full of sorrow, grief and woe

And many were the hardships that I did undergo

 

(Chorus) Sing, “Whoa me lads” sing “whoa”

Drive on me lads hie oh

Who would not lead the life of a jolly waggoner.

 

It is a dark and stormy night and I’m wet to the skin

But I’ll bear it with contentment till I get to the inn

Where I shall get good liquor and the landlord and his friends

(Chorus)

 

The summer has a-come, my lads, the pleasures we shall see

The blackbird and the thrush, they sing from every tree

Where the martins and the swallows they fly above me.

(Chorus)

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Barbara Allen

 

It was one day in the month of May

When the flowers they was blooming

And Johnny on his sick-bed lay

For the sake of Barbara Allen

 

And slowly, slowly she came up

And slowly she came nigh him

And all she said when there she came

“Young man I think you’re dying.”

 

Poor Johnny died on one fine day

And Barbara died on the morrow

Johnny died for Barbara’s love

And Barbara died for sorrow

 

On Johnny’s grave there grew a thorn

On Barbara’s grew a briar

They tangled and they twisted then

For the sake of one another

 

“Look up, look up from my bedside

You’ll find a bangle hanging

With my gold watch and silver chain

All left for Barbara Allen.”

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Dark-eyed Sailor

 

A young lady so charming and fair

Was walking out to take the air

She met a sailor, bright and gay

So I paid attention

So I paid attention

To hear what they did say

 

Said William, “Why walkest alone?

The day is done and the night nigh come.”

She said as tears from her eyes did roll

“It is a dark-eyed sailor

It is a dark-eyed sailor

Has caused me my downfall.”

 

Said William, “Chase him from thy mind

For better sailors than him you’ll find

Thy love is young, it will soon grow cold

Like a winter’s morning

Like a winter’s morning

When snow covers the ground.”

 

“Oh, he had dark eyes and jet-black hair

His pleasing tongue did my heart ensnare

Upright he was, no rogue like you

To advise a maiden

To advise a maiden

To slight the jacket blue.

 

‘Tis seven long years since he left this land

A golden token he took off his hand

He broke the token in half with me

Now the other’s rolling

Now the other’s rolling

At the bottom of the sea.”

 

William then did her the token show

Which set the maiden’s heart aglow

“Welcome, William, I have land and gold

And a store of silver

For my sailor lover

So manly true and bold.”

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Worst Girl in the School

 

Ah, the school-bell was ringing so loudly, ding-dong

Oh I heard it, I know, as I sauntered along

The road was so crooked I could not keep straight

“Oh hurry along, dear, for you’re sure to be late.”

Rum-tee tiddle-ee, all the day

 

You thinks about nutting and mischief and play

You’ll give it so hot and you takes it so cool

For you know you’re the very worst girl in the school.

When I grow older someone and I

We’ll go and get married, perhaps on the sly

We’ll live in the country and keep a large farm

And I will save all things from going to harm.

For the ducks they will lo and the moo-cows will neigh

The sheep they will crow and the horses will bray

While the cat and the kittens will swim in the pool

And not one of them never need go to school

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Faithful Sailor Boy

 

One cold and frosty winter’s day

The snow lay on the ground

A sailor boy stood on the quay

His ship was outward bound

His sweetheart standing by his side

Shed many a bitter tear

And as he pressed her to his breast

He whispered in her ear

 

“Farewell, farewell, my own true love

This parting gives me pain

You’ll be my hope and guiding star

Till I return again

My thoughts shall be of you, my love

When the storms are raging high

So farewell, lass, remember me

Your faithful sailor boy.”

 

But sad to say when the ship returned

It brought no sailor boy

For he had died in drownding seas

And the flag was half-mast high

And as his comrades came on shore

And told her that he was dead

 

Tears from her eyes smudged every page

Of his letter that she read.

“Farewell, farewell, my own true love,

On earth we’ll meet no more

But we shall meet in heaven above

On that eternal shore

My thoughts shall be of you, my lass

When the storms are raging high

So farewell, lass, remember me

Your faithful sailor boy.”

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Polly’s Father Lived in Lincolnshire

 

Now, Polly’s father lived in Lincolnshire

He was the owner of a farm

And every year, oh,

I goes there to help to reap the corn

Oh, I rambles through the clover

And I helps to make the hay

And when harvest-time is over,

This is what I say,

 

“Oh, now, Polly, now, she’s the girl for me

Oh, now, Polly, I fancies I can see

You in your father’s orchard

Picking apples from the tree

And sorting out the rosy ones

And handing them to me.”

Now, Polly’s father was a farmer

And if I had my way

 

I’d never go there once a year,

I’d stop there every day

For a country life is a healthy life

And in the meadows to roam

I likes it best when work is done

To drive the cattle home.

And sing,

( Chorus )

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Poor Gypsy Maid

 

Oh can a poor gypsy maiden like me

Ever hope the proud bride of a noble to be

To some bright jewelled beauty thy vows will be paid

And thou wilt forget her, the poor gypsy maid

And thou wilt forget her, the poor gypsy maid

Away with that thought I am free I am free

To devote all the love of my spirit to thee

Young rose of the wilderness blushing and sweet

All my heart all my fortunes I lay at your feet

All my heart all my fortunes I lay at your feet

By the moon up above that can change like man’s love

By the sun’s constant ray that chase night’s tears away

Oh never by me will thy trust be betrayed

I will love thee forever, my own gypsy maid

I will love thee forever, my own gypsy maid

 

Go, flatterer, go and practise not thine art

And trifle no more with a poor maiden’s heart

Let me die in the shade of my own native glade

And betray not the heart of a poor gypsy maid

And betray not the heart of the poor gypsy maid.

I’ve lands and proud dwellings and all shall be thine

A coronet, Zilla, thy brows shall entwine

Thou shalt never have reason thy trust to upbraid

For a countess I’ll make thee, my own gypsy maid

For a countess I’ll make thee, my own gypsy maid

Then fly with me now, shall I trust to thy vow

Yes, please, come away thou wilt never betray

No never by me will thy trust be betrayed

And tomorrow thou’lt wed me, my own gypsy maid

And tomorrow thou’lt wed me, my own gypsy maid.

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

John Barleycorn

 

Now, there came three men out of Kent, my boys,

For to plough for wheat and rye

And they made a vow and a solemn vow

John Barleycorn must die

 

So they ploughed him deep in the furrow

And they sowed rye o’er his head

And these three men home rejoicing went

John Barleycorn was dead

 

But the sun shone warm and the wind blew soft

And it rained in a day or so

John Barleycorn felt the wind and rain

And he soon began to grow

But the rye began to grow as well

The rye grew slow but tall

 

But John Barleycorn he grew short and quick

And he proved them liars all.

So, they hired men with sickles

To cut him off at the knee

 

And worst of all, John Barleycorn

They served him barbarously

For they hired men with pikels

To toss him on to load

 

And when they’d tossed John Barleycorn

They tied him down with cords

Then, they hired men with threshels

To beat him high and low

 

They came smick-smack upon poor Jack’s back

Till the flesh began to flow

Then the put him into the kiln, my boys,

Thinking to dry his bones

 

And when he came out, John Barleycorn,

They crushed him between two stones.

Then they put him into the mashing tub

Thinking to burn his tail

 

And when he came out they’d changed his name

For they called him ‘Home-brewed Ale’

So, put your wine into glasses

Your cider in pewter cans

 

Put John Barleycorn in the old brown jug

For he’s proved the strongest man.

To my right fol derry, fol the diddle ay

To my right fol derry oh

To my right fol derry, fol the diddle ay

To my right fol derry oh.

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Banks of the Sweet Dundee

 

It’s of a farmer’s daughter, so beautiful I’m told

Her parents died and left her five hundred pounds in gold

She lived with an uncle, the cause of all her woe

And pretty soon as you shall hear, she caused his overthrow.

 

Her uncle kept a ploughboy who Mary loved full well

And in her uncle’s garden, their tales of love did tell

There was a wealthy squire’s son who often came to tea

But she loved her uncle’s ploughboy

On the Banks of the Sweet Dundee.

 

Her uncle said one morning , “Come rise, young lady, rise

For there is a wealthy squire’s son waiting for you outside.”

But she said, “Oh, dear uncle I’m sure I’d rather be

A-walking with my William

On the Banks of the Sweet Dundee.

 

“A fig for all your squires’ sons, your lords and dukes likewise

For I’m sure my William’s kisses shine like diamonds in the sky

A gentleman and lordly the squire’s son may be

But his kisses aren’t like William’s

On the Banks of the Sweet Dundee.”

 

Her uncle and the squire’s son then thought of trickery

“Let’s bind him”, said the squire’s son “and hang him from a tree.”

But her uncle said, “A better plan I have so hatched to me

Let the press-gang come and arrest him and carry him off to sea.”

 

The press-gang came and caught him when he was all alone

Poor William he fought bravely, yet they were three to one

The blood it flowed in torrents out from his wounds so free

But he said, “Let me die for Mary”, as they carried him off to sea.

 

It chanced that she was walking, lamenting for her love

The squire’s son espied her down by her uncle’s grove

He put his arms around her and he tried to throw her down

But two pistols and a sword she spied beneath his morning gown

 

She snatched a pistol up, one that he had used so free

And she did fire and shot the squire

On the Banks of the Sweet Dundee

Her uncle he came rushing up, the firing to see

 

“Stand back, stand back,” said Mary, “for now I will kill thee.”

And the trigger she drew and her uncle slew

On the Banks of the Sweet Dundee.

The surgeon he was sent for, a man of noted skill

 

Likewise the lawyer also, for him to make his will.

His gold he left to Mary, and all his property

“And send”, he said, “for William and buy his liberty.”

And then he sighed and so he died

 

On the Banks of the Sweet Dundee.

Poor William he was sent for and set at liberty

They married well and now happy live

On the Banks of the Sweet Dundee.

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Down by the Riverside

 

As I walked out one fine summer’s morn

Down by the riverside

I overtook a pretty fair maid

Pacing gently the waterside.

He took her by the lily-white hand

Kissed both her cheeks and chin

He took her by the riverside

And he gently pushed her in.

Oh there she goes, oh there she goes

She’s flowing away with the tide

Instead of having a watery grave

She ought to have been my bride.

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Banks of the Sweet Primroses

 

As I walked out one fine summer’s morning

For to view the countryside and take the air

As I walked down by the banks of the sweet primroses

I met a lady beautiful and fair.

 

Three short steps I took up to her

Not knowing me she passed me by

I drew up to her, thinking to view her

She appeared to be like a virtuous bride

 

I said, “Fair maid, where are you walking

Oh, what is the occasion of all your grief

I’ll make you as happy as any lady

If you will only grant me small relief.”

 

“Stand off, stand off, you are deceitful

A false deceitful man, to me it’s plain

It’s you that’s caused my poor heart to wander

To give me comfort it is all in vain.

 

“I’ll go down to some lonesome dwelling

Where no man on earth shall there me find

Where all the birds have changed their voices

And at every moment boisterous blows the wind.”

 

So all young maidens that go a-courting

Pray give attention to what I say

For many a dark and dreary morning

Turns out to be a bright and sunny day.

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An Acre of Land

 

My father he left me an acre of land

Sing hey, ho, sing ivy,

My father he left me an acre of land

And a bunch of green holly and ivy.

 

I ploughed it with a team of rots

Sing hey, ho, sing ivy,

I ploughed it with a team of rots

And a bunch of green holly and ivy

 

I sowed it with a pepperpot

Sing hey, ho, sing ivy,

I sowed it with a pepperpot

And a bunch of green holly and ivy

 

I addered it in with the hem of my coat

Sing hey, ho, sing ivy

I addered it in with the hem of my coat

And a bunch of green holly and ivy

 

I rolled it with a rolling pin,

Sing hey, ho, sing ivy

I rolled it with a rolling pin,

And a bunch of green holly and ivy

 

I reaped it with the blade of my knife

Sing hey, ho, sing ivy

I reaped it with the blade of my knife

And a bunch of green holly and ivy

 

I thrushed it with a team of rots,

Sing hey, ho, sing ivy

I thrushed it with a team of rots,

And a bunch of green holly and ivy

 

I winnowed it on the brim of my hat,

Sing hey, ho, sing ivy

I winnowed it on the brim of my hat,

And a bunch of green holly and ivy

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Down the Green Groves

 

It’s down the green groves I was wandering

Down the green groves by the spring

It’s there I saw the lambs were playing

And the birds whistle and they do sing.

 

Although my name it is Maria

Just a poor girl, I agree

It’s there I met a rich young squire

And he had his way with me.

 

It’s first he had his will and pleasure

Then he left me far to roam

Never no more to seek his pleasure

With me until my babe was born

 

He caught me dancing with another

Jealousy then filled his mind

He caught me dancing with his brother

He ordered me to drink some wine

 

Now it’s hark, hark, hark, the cocks are crowing

Daylight then will soon be here

“Oh, Johnny, oh, Johnny, my own true Johnny,

The wine you gave me has made me queer.”

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Royal Albert

 

As I was a-walking by the side of the Royal Albert

The night had been dark and cold was the day

Who should I see then but one of my comrades

A-wrapped in a blanket and colder than clay.

 

He asked for a candle to light him to bed with

Likewise a flannel to wrap round his head

His poor head was aching his heart was near breaking

For he was a young soldier cut down in his prime.

 

His poor old father, his poor aged mother

Oft-times had warned him about his past life.

Never to go courting the girls of the city

Those flash girls of the city who took his delight.

 

At the top of the street you will see two girls standing.

One to the other, they’ll whisper and say

“Here comes the young soldier whose money we squandered

Here comes the young soldier, colder than clay.”

 

So we’ll beat the drums o’er him, we’ll play the pipes for him

We’ll play the dead march as we carry him on

Take him to the graveyard and fire three volleys o’er him

Just an ordinary soldier cut down in his prime

 

When he was buried, the tombstone reared o’er him

On it was written for all them to see.

“Soldiers, never go courting the girls of the city

For those flash girls of the city were the ruin of me.”

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the Frost is on the Pumpkin

 

When your apples bin all garnered

And your mangel harvest’s due

When your cider making’s over

And your women-folk comes through

It sets my heart a-ticking

Like the ticking on a clock

When the frost is on the pumpkin

And the fodder’s in the shock.

 

Oh the hasky rasky tussle

Of the hasky rasky corn

I shall see the plough-shares shining

On the headland in the morn

And it’ll set my heart a-ticking

Like the ticking on a clock

When the frost is on the pumpkin

And the fodder’s in the shock

 

Oh the canking of the gander

As he leads his mighty flock

The stepping and the stamping

Of the strutting turkey cock

It sets my heart a-ticking

Like the ticking on a clock

When the frost is on the pumpkin

And the fodder’s in the shock

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three Old Crows

 

Now three old crows sat in a tree

And they were as black as black could be

And they were as black as black could be.

Said one old crow unto his mate

 

What shall we have this day to eat

What shall we have this day to eat.

They flew away across the plain

To where an old horse had been slain

To where an old horse had been slain.

 

They sat all on his old back-bone

They pecked his eyes out one by one

They pecked his eyes out one by one.

Up come the farmer with his gun

 

He shot them all excepting one

He shot them all excepting one.

Now this old crow flew in a tree

He said, you old bugger you can’t catch me

He said, you old bugger, oh you can’t catch me.

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We Shepherds are the Best of Men

 

We shepherds are the best of men

That e’er trod English ground

And when we reach an alehouse

We value not a pound

 

We drinks our liquor freely

And pays before we go

For there’s no ale on the wold

Where the stormy winds do blow

 

We drinks our liquor freely

And pays before we go

For there’s no ale on the wold

Where the stormy winds do blow.

 

A man that is a shepherd

Must have a valiant heart

He must not be faint-hearted

But boldly play his part

 

He must not be faint-hearted

Be it hail or rain or snow

With no ale on the wold

Where the stormy winds do blow.

 

When I kept sheep on Blockley Hill

It made my heart to weep

To see the ewes hang out their tongues

And hear the lambs to bleat

 

So I plucked up my courage

And o’er the hills did go

To pen my sheep in the fold

While the stormy winds did blow.

 

So I plucked up my courage

And o’er the hills did go

To pen my sheep in the fold

While the stormy winds did blow.

 

When I had safely penned my sheep

I turned my back in haste

And yo a jovial company,

Good liquor for to take

 

For drink and jovial company

Oh they are my hearts delight

Whilst my sheep safely sleep

All the fore-part of the night.

 

For drink and jovial company

Oh they are my hearts delight

Whilst my sheep safely sleep

All the fore-part of the night.

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Down the Road

 

Now since first I copped a tidy lump of swag

I’ve always tried to keep a decent nag

And the one I’m going to talk to you about now

She was worth a thousand guineas in a bag.

 

I matched her with the best that could be found

The race was to be run for sixty pound.

The race was duly run and I’ll tell you how I won,

With our Polly, my brave pony, world renowned.

 

For it was down the road and away went Polly

With her step so jolly, I knew she’d win

Down the road, the mare was willing

And the pace was killing for a lightning spin

Jones’s cob was licked that much

He wished he’d ne’er been born.

Whoa, mare, whoa, mare,

For you’ve earned your little bit of corn

 

Now Jones the butcher, he was firm and true

Says he to me, ‘I tell you what I’ll do.

My cob should pace your mare again next Monday

And sixty more bright golden sovereigns I’ll blow

 

And if your mare should trot my cob again

I vows that nevermore I’ll touch a rein.’

But I knew he had no chance

Though he insisted at the dance

And I’ll tell you how we slew the slain.

 

For it was down the road and away went Polly

With her step so jolly, I knew she’d win

Down the road, the mare was willing

And the pace was killing for a final spin

All the rest were coming behind,

They wished they’d ne’er been born.

Whoa, mare, whoa, mare,

For you’ve earned your little bit of corn

 

Now, soon after this she reached her final goal.

Now, I’ve had that little pony from a foal

And grief to me it was to say goodbye, lads,

When we carted poor old Poll to fill the hole

 

The missus and the kids they came with me

The last of our pet pony Poll to see.

Our neighbours shared our grief

It was felt beyond belief

As we buried poor old Polly, R.I.P..

 

And it was down the road, we dragged poor Polly

Not a face was jolly, it seemed a sin.

Down the road, the dead mare willing,

The pace not killing, to the wayside inn.

Everybody looked so sad and I was all forlorn

Whoa, mare, whoa, mare,

For you’ve earned your little bit of corn.

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We're All Jolly Fellows That Follow the Plough  

So early one morning at the break of the day,
The cocks they was crowing, the farmer did say,
”Come rise up young fellows, rise up of good will,
For your horses want something their bellies to fill.”

When four o'clock comes, boys, then up we do rise,
And into the stable we merrily fly,
With a rubbing and scrubbing, I’ll swear and I’ll vow,
That we're all jolly fellows as follows the plough.

At six o'clock then, to our breakfast we seek,
On beef, bread and pork, boys, we heartily eats,
With a piece in our pocket, I'll swear and I'll vow,
That we're all jolly fellows as follows the plough.

Then we harness our horses, and out we do go
And trip o'er the clod boys as nimble as dough
And when we gets there then, so jolly and bold,
To see which of us the straight furrow can hold.

Now one day the maister he came riding by, and thus he did say:
”What have you been doing , this very long day?

You have not ploughed your acre, I'll swear and I'll vow.
That you're all idle fellows as follows the plough.”

And then I turned round and I made this reply,
”We have all ploughed our acre, you tells a big lie.”
And the master he looked and he laughed at the joke,

“It's past two o'clock, boys; it's time to unyoke.”


So unharness your horses and well rub them down ,
And I'll bring you some ale in the jug that is brown.
So all you young fellows, where ever you be,
Come take this advice and be ruled by me.

For fear not your masters, for I'll swear and I'll vow,
That we're all jolly fellows as follows the plough

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Seeds of Love

 

I sowed the Seeds of Love
And I sowed them in the spring,
I gathered them up in the morning early,
While the small birds sweetly sing.
While the small birds sweetly sing.

Oh, my garden was planted well
With flowers everywhere
But I had not the liberty
To choose for myself
Of the flowers that I love so dear,
Of the flowers that I love so dear.

Oh, the gardener was standing by
And I asked him to choose for me.
He chose for me the violet,
The lily and the pink
And these I refused all three;
And these I refused all three.

For the violet I did not like,
Because it came too soon.
The lily and the pink I really overthink,
I vowed I would wait till June.
I vowed I would wait till June.

For in June there’s a red rosebud
And that is the flower for me.
I oft-times have plucked
At that red rosebud
Till I gained the willow tree,
Till I gained the willow tree.

For the willow tree will twist
And the willow tree will twine,
I oft-times wished

I was in that young man's arms
That once had the heart of mine,
That once had the heart of mine.

So come, all you false young men,
Do not leave me here to complain,
For the grass that oft-times has
Been trampled under foot,
Give it time, it will rise again.
Give it time, it will rise again

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Volunteer Organist

 

The preacher at the village church, one Sunday morning said,
"Our organist is ill today; will someone play instead?"
An anxious look came o'er the face of every person there

To see who in the church that morn would fill the vacant chair.
 

An old man stumbled up the aisle, his clothes was worn and torn
How strange a drunkard seemed to be in church on Sunday morn
But as his fingers touched the keys, without a single word
The melody the old man played was the sweetest ever heard.

 

(Chorus): The scene was one I'll ne'er forget as long as I may live
And just to see it o'er again, all earthly wealth I'd give
The congregation all amazed, the preacher old and grey,
The organ and the organist who volunteered to play.

 

Each eye grew dim in church that morn, and the strongest cheek grew pale.
The organist without a word, had told his own life's tale.
No lesson that the preacher read, that morning could compare
With life's example that morn sat in the vacant chair.
And as he gently closed the lid and slowly went his way
The preacher rose and softly said "Good brethren, let us pray."

( Chorus)

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Bonny Bunch of Roses

 

Against the margin of the ocean,
One summer’s evening in the month of June,
When all those small bird songsters
Their melodies so sweetly tuned,
It was there I saw a fair maiden

And on her face all was grief and woe,
Conversing with young Napoleon
Concerning the Bonnie Bunch of Roses-O.

Then up spoke young Napoleon
And he took his mother by the hand,
Have patience, dearest mother
Until I'm able to take command.
And I'll rise a mighty army
And through tremendous danger go.
And in spite of all the universe
I’ll conquer the Bonnie Bunch of Roses-O.

"O, son, be not too venturesome,
For the English they are hearts of oak,
And England, Ireland, Scotland,
Oh their unity has never been broke.
Remember your father in Saint Helena

Where his body lies now mouldering low,
Oh he swore he’d conquer Europe
And return with the Bonnie Bunch of Roses-O."

 

When you first saw Napoleon,
You knelt down before him on your bended knee
And the requests of your father
Oh he granted them quite readily.
'And he raised a mighty army
And o'er the frozen Alps did go;
But when he came to Moscow
He lost the Bonnie Bunch of Roses-O.

"He took three hundred thousand men
Kings and princes for to bear his train.
He was so well provided for
Enough to sweep the world for gain.
But when he came to Moscow
He was overcome by the frost and snow
And with Moscow all a-blazing,
He lost the Bonnie Bunch of Roses-O."

"Adieu then, dearest mother,
For now I lie on my dying bed.
But I had lived that Bonaparte,
The fate of Europe I did change,” he said.
”But when my bones lie mouldering
And all them weeping willows grow,
Oh the name of young Napoleon
Shall enshrine the Bonnie Bunch of Roses-O."

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Horn of the Hunter

 

For forty long years that we known him,
Cumberland yeoman of old,
And twice forty years shall have perished,
Ere the fame of his deeds shall grow cold.
No broadcloth of scarlet adorned him
No buckskin that ribbled the snow.
But of plain Skiddaw grey was his garment,
And he wore it for work, not for show.

(Chorus): Oh the horn of the hunter now is silent,
On the banks of the Ellen no more,
No more shall we hear its wild echo,
Clear sound o'er the dark Caldews roar.

When darkness of the night draws her mantle,
And the cold by the fire bids us steal,
Our children will say, "Father tell us
Some deeds of the famous John Peel."
Then we'll tell them of Ranter and Royal,
Of Britain and Melody too,
How they chivvied a fox round the Carrock
And chased him from scent into view.

(Chorus)

How often from Brathwait to Skiddaw,
Through Isel, Bewaldeth, Whitefield,
We’d gallop like madmen together,
And follow the hounds of John Peel.
And though we may hunt with another,
Till the hand of old age bids us yield,
We will think on that sportsman and brother,
And drink to the health of John Peel.

(Chorus)

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Black Sheep of the Family

 

For our immortal Shakespeare said,

This world is but a stage

And every man must play his part

From childhood to old age

 

But when I think of days gone by,

How I have been the tool

Of rogues and knaves and I think

That my part I played the fool.

 

I’m the black, black sheep of my family

And everybody runs me down

The people all say as they pass me by

There goes the black sheep of society

 

But I will try my luck out in the colonies

And I will either rise or fall

And when I come back, the sheep that was black

Will be the whitest of them all

 

So don’t be angry with me, Dad,

Don’t turn me from the door

For you know that I’ve been wayward,

But I won’t be anymore

 

Just give to me one other chance,

And put me to the test

And you’ll find the black sheep loves his Dad

Far better than the rest.

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Banks of Claudy

It’s on a fair spring evening all in the month of May
Down by a flowery garden I pensively did stray
I overheard a young maid in sorrow to proclaim
All for her absent lover who ploughed the raging main.

I stepped up to that fair young maid I took her by surprise
I own she did not know me, I own her in disguise
I said , "My fairest creature, my joy and my delight
How far have you to travel this dark and stormy night?"

’It’s to the banks of Claudy, kind Sir, I’ll have you show
Take pity on a fair maid, who knows not where to go,
For I’m searching for a young man and Johnny is his name
And on the Banks of Claudy I’m told he does remain."

 

“These are the banks of Claudy,” I said, “ whereon you stand

But do not trust your Johnny, for he’s a false young man

Oh, do not trust your Johnny, for you’ll not find him here

But tarry with me, in green woods, no danger need you fear.”

”If Johnny he were here tonight he'd keep me from all harm
But he's in the field of battle, and he wears a uniform,
He's in the field of battle and his foes he does defy
Just like the king of honour all on the walls of Troy.

For it’s six long months or better since Johnny left these shores

A-crossing the wide ocean, where the thundering billows roar

A-crossing the wide ocean, for honour and for gain

But I’m told that his ship was wrecked nigh to the coast of Spain.’

When she heard this dreadful news, she fell into despair,
A-wringing of her hands and a-tearing of her hair.
Crying “ If my Johnny's drownded, no man alive I'll take
But I’ll wander in some valley, lonesome for his sake.”

When I saw her loyalty, no longer could I stand,
So I flew into her arms, crying, “Betsy, I'm that man!”
Crying, “Betsy I’m that young man that boy you thought was slain
And since we've met on the Claudy Banks we'll never part again."

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Galway Shawl

As I was walking in the County of Galway,
One pleasant evening in the month of May,
I met a maiden, she was tall and handsome
Her looks fairly took all my breath away.


(Chorus) She wore no jewels, no costly diamonds,
No shoes nor stockings, on her feet at all.
But on her head a bonnet with ribbons on it
And round her shoulder was a Galway Shawl.

We kept on walking and she kept on talking,
'Till her father's cottage came into view.
Says she: “Kind sir, won’t you bide a minute,
And play for me, oh, ‘The Foggy Dew’.”

She sat me down beside the hearthstone
I saw her father, he was six feet tall.
And while her mother put on the kettle
All I could think of was her Galway shawl.

(Chorus)

I played ‘The Blackbird’ and ‘The Rigs of Barley’,
’Rodney's Glory’ and ‘The Foggy Dew’,
She sang out softly like an Irish linnet.
And tears came down from her eyes so blue.

Early next morning, oh, very early
I took the road to old Donegal.
She climbed the gate and kissed me dearly,
And wished me God speed, in her Galway shawl.

(Chorus)

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Spinning Wheel

Mellow the moonlight to shine is beginning
Close by the window Eileen is spinning
Bent o'er the fire blind grandmother sitting
Is moaning and crooning and drowsily knitting.

“Eileen, chara, I hear someone tapping”
”'Tis the ivy dear mother ‘gainst the glass flapping.”
”Eileen, I surely hear somebody sighing.”
”'Tis the sound, mother dear, of the autumn winds dying.”

”What's that noise that I hear at the window I wonder?”
”'Tis the little birds chirping, the holly bush under.”
”What makes you be pushing and moving your stool on,
And singing all wrong that old song of ‘Coolin’?”

There's a form at the casement, the form of her true love
And he whispers with face bent, “I'm waiting for you, love,
Get up on the stool, through the lattice step lightly
And we'll rove in the grove while the moon's shining brightly.”

The maid shakes her head, on her lips lays her fingers
Steps up from the stool, longs to go and yet lingers
A frightened glance turns to her drowsy grandmother
Puts one foot on the stool spins the wheel with the other.

Lazily, easily, swings now the wheel round
Slowly and lowly is heard now the reel's sound
Lightly and sprightly to the lattice above her
The maid steps, then leaps into the arms of her lover.

More and more and slower the wheel swings

Lower and lower and lower the reel rings

Ere the wheel and the reel stop their spinning and moving

Through the grove the young lovers in the moonlight eloping

Merrily cheerily noisily whirling
Spins the wheel, swings the wheel while the foot's stirring
Lightly and sprightly and airily ringing
Sounds the sweet voice of the young maiden singing.

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Rigs of Rye

Twas in the month of sweet July
Before the sun had pierced the sky
'Twas down among the rigs o' rye
I heard two lovers talking.

Said the laddie, “Lassie I must away
I have no longer time to stay
But I've a word or two to say
If you'd with me tarry,

”Oh, your father of you, oh, he takes great care
Your mother combs down your golden hair
Well your sister says that you'll get no share
If you go with me, a stranger.”

”Let my father fret and my mother frown
My sister’s words I do disown
Though they were dead and beneath the ground
I’d go with you, a stranger.”

”But, lassie, lassie, your fortune's small
And maybe will have none at all
And you're no match for me at all
Go lay your love on another.”

This lassie's courage began to fail
Her rosy cheeks they grew wan and pale
And tears came trickling down like hail
Or a heavy shower in the summer,

But he's taken his handkerchief linen fine
He's wiped her teardrops from her eyen
”Oh, Lassie, lassie you will be mine
I only meant to try you.”

This couple now, they married are
And they have bairnies one and two
And they live in Brechin the winter through
And in Montrose in the summer.

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Saucy Sailor

"Come, my own one, come, my fond one,
Come, my dearest and come to me
Will you wed a poor sailor boy,
Who has just returned from sea?"

“No, indeed, I’ll have no sailor
For they are dirty and smell of tar;

You are ragged, you are saucy
Get you gone, you Jacky tar.”

“If I'm ragged, if I'm dirty,
And if may be of tar I smell,
Yet I have silver in my pockets
And a store of gold as well.”

When she heard him thus address her
Down upon her knees she fell,
Saying, “Ragged, dirty sailor boys
I love more than words can tell.”

“Do you take me to be foolish,

Do you think that I am mad

That I’d wed the likes of you, my lass,

When there’s others to be had.

“No, my boat shall cross the ocean,

Yes, my boat shall spread her wings

Gone for you the joys of married life,

Gone for you the wedding ring.”

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Bonny Boy

Oh, the trees are growing high my love, and the grass is growing green;
And it’s many a cold winter’s night that I and you have seen.
It is a many a cold winter’s night that I must lie alone,
Oh! the bonny boy is young, but he is growing.

”Oh, father, my dear father, oh, I think you did me wrong
To go and get me married, oh, to one who is so young.
He is but sixteen years of age and I am twenty-one.
Oh, the bonny boy is young but he's growing.”

”Oh, daughter, my dear daughter, oh, I did not do you wrong
To go and get you married, oh, to one who is so young,
He will be a good match for you when I am dead and gone.
Oh, the bonny boy is young, but he is growing.”

”Oh, father, my dear father, oh, I'll tell you what I'll do,
I'll send my boy to college for another year or two;
And all around his college cap, I'll bind a ribbon blue,
Just to let the ladies know that he's married.”

Oh, a year it went by and I passed the college wall
To see the young collegians a-playing at the ball;
And there I saw my true love boy, the fairest of them all,
Oh, the bonny boy is young but he’s growing.

Oh, at sixteen years of age, oh, he was a married man,
At seventeen years of age he was the father of a son,
But at the age of eighteen, o'er his grave the grass grew green;
Cruel death had put an end to his growing.

Oh, they made my love a shroud of the ornamental brown;
And as they were a-making it, oh, the tears they did run down;
For it's once I had a true love, boys, but now he's lying low,
But I'll nurse his bonny boy while he's growing

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Ship that Never Returned

On a summer's morn, when the waves were a-rippling
In a soft and sighing breeze,
A ship set sail with a precious burden
To a port beyond the seas.
There beyond farewells and loving gestures
And their hearts are left to yearn
But they sailed away with a smile and a blessing
On a ship that never returned.

That never returned, that never returned,
And its fate is still unlearned,

They sailed away with a smile and a blessing
On a ship that never returned

Said the pale-faced boy to his loving mother,
”Let me cross the wide, wide sea,
For they tells me that in a foreign country,
There is health and wealth for me.”
So he kissed his mother with a fond affection
The lad for whom her heart always yearned,
And he sailed away with his mother’s blessing
On a ship that never returned.

 

That never returned, that never returned,
And its fate is still unlearned

He sailed away with his mother’s blessing
On a ship that never returned

"Only one more trip," said the gallant sailor,
As he kissed his fond young wife,
”Only one more bag of the golden treasure
And we’ll settle down for life.
For we will leave this place and find a little cottage
And enjoy the wealth we’ve earned.”
But from that day to this she’s been watching and waiting
For a ship that never returned.

 

That never returned, that never returned,
And its fate is still unlearned

And from that day to this she’s been watching and waiting
For a ship that never returned.

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Recruited Collier

O what's the matter with you my lass
And where's your dashing Jimmy?
O, the soldier boys have caught him up
And took him far, far from me
Last payday he went round the town
With them red-coated fellows
They took him in and they got him drunk
And he'd better gone to the gallows.

For the very sight of his cockade
It sets us all a-sighing
And me I nearly fainted twice
I thought that I was dying
My father he would have paid the smart
And he ran with the golden guinea
But the sergeant swore he'd kissed the book
And he took away my Jimmy.

To hear Jimmy talk about the wars
It's worse than death to hear him
And I must go and hide my face
For I cannot bear to hear him
For a brigadier or grenadier
He swears they're sure to make him
And, oh, he gibes and cracks his jokes
And bids me not forsake him.

As I walked o’er the stubble fields
Beneath it runs the seam
I thought of Jimmy hewing there
But it was all a dream
For he hewed the very coals we burn
And when the fire I'm leeting
To think the lumps was in his hands
It makes my heart go beating

So break my heart and when it's o’er
So break my heart my dearie
For I must lie in the cold green ground
For of single life I'm weary

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Foggy, Foggy Dew

Now I was a bachelor and I lived all alone
And I followed the weaving trade;
When out walking by the light of the moon
I met a fair young maid.
She reminded me of the wintertime,
And part of the summer, too,
And the only, only thing that I ever did wrong
Was to keep her from the foggy, foggy dew.

One night when I was lay at rest

She came into my room.
She laid her head upon my breast

Her face was full of gloom
She sighed, she cried, and she damn near died
”Whatever shall I do?”
So I drew her into bed and I covered up her head
Just to keep her from the foggy, foggy dew.

 

Now all the first part of the night,

How we did sport and play

And all the second part of the night

She in my arms did lay

And when broad daylight did appear,

She cried, “I’m undone.”

“Hold your tongue you foolish lass,

For the foggy, foggy dew has gone.”

 

“And should tonight I have a chid

Through lying along with you

And should tonight I have a child,

This evening I will rue.

And should I have another child,

Another and another one too

I’d rue the day that we sported and played,

Out of the foggy, foggy dew.”

 

Now, I loved that girl with all my heart,

I loved her as my life

And in the second part of the year,

I took her for my wife

I never harmed a hair of her head,

No, nor let any man do

And the only, only thing that I ever did wrong,

Was keep her from the foggy, foggy dew

Now I am a widower and with my son
We follow the weaving trade.
And every time I look into his eyes
I see that fair young maid.
For he reminds me of the wintertime
And part of the summer, too,
And the only, only thing that I ever do now
Is keep him from the foggy, foggy, dew

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Sweet William

 

Oh, father, father come build me a boat

That o’er this ocean wide I may float.

And every ship that I chance to meet

I will enquire for my William sweet.

 

We had not sailed more than half an hour

Before we met with a man-o-war.

“O, captain, captain, come tell me true

Is my boy, William, on board with you?”

 

“What colour suit did your William wear,

What was the colour of your true love’s hair?”

“Oh, he had a suit of the royal blue

And you’d know him, for his heart is true.”

 

“Then your boy, William, I’m sad to say,

That he was drownded the other day

On yonder island that we passed by

T’was there that we laid to rest your sailor boy.”

 

She wrung her hands and she tore her hair

She was a young lady in deep despair.

“O, father, father, how can I go on

How can I live now my William’s gone?

 

“I’ll sit me down and I’ll write me a song,

I’ll write it neat and I’ll write it long,

And in every word I’ll shed a tear

And in every line I’ll set my William, dear.

 

“I wish, I wish, but it’s all in vain

I wish I was a young maid again

But a maid again, I shall never be

Till apples grow on an orange tree.

A maid, a maid, I shall never be

Till apples grow on an orange tree.”

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Benefit Concert

 

Now, I’ve just come away from a benefit concert

For it’d saved me much pain if I’d never have gone

It was held at the Manslaughter Arms around the corner

I’m the only one left of a hundred and one.

 

This concert was held on behalf of Nobby Taylor,

Who’d just lost his mother, his only support,

And with your kind attention, I’ll tell you the programme

Of this little concert, the best of its sort.

 

Now of course we brought the bills and tickets out upon the strap

We couldn’t pay for posters ‘cause we hadn’t got a scrap

The room that we had rented would hold sixty at the most

But we got a thousand tickets off to satisfy our host.

 

Fifty Special Constables was ordered to the scene,

They kicked all my front teeth out, I wish I’d never been

The air was blue of language, it fair took away my breath

And to give the crowd amusement, someone kicked a dog to death.

 

When the bar was opened, then the crowd all rushed inside

The man who took the tickets, he was trampled on and died

Them as couldn’t get a seat, they squatted on the floor

And we ripped the paper off the walls to admit a dozen more.

 

The chairman, he should have arrived, seven-thirty was the time

He didna come up until the clock was striking nine

He said, “Excuse me, gentlemen, your patience must be worn

But I couldn’t come before because my trousers was in pawn.

 

To sing the first song of the night, one young fellow rose,

He sang ‘The Village Blacksmith’ till the sparks shot from his nose

He said,”I’ve no voice, gentlemen, it went when I was five

But I’ll fight the best man in the house to keep the game alive”

 

A lady next got up to sing, “I’ll be all smiles tonight”

And the way they started bawling, oh, I thought there’d be a fight

When a collier at the back, he couldn’t stand the strain

He hit her with his clog and, oh, ‘er never smiled again

 

At the finish of the evening, they called on Ginger Giles

To sing on this occasion, he’d walked for forty miles

He said, “Give order, gentlemen, I’ll try to please you all”

And bursted out singing, yes, ‘Let me like a soldier fall’

The waiter hit him with his tray and down poor Ginger fell

And to finish off the evening all the crowd began to yell

“Oh, the more we are together, the merrier we shall be”

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Gypsy’s Warning

Do not trust him, gentle lady, though his voice be low and sweet
Heed not him who kneels before thee, gently pleading at your feet
Now your life is in the morning; spare thou this thy happy lot
Do not trust him, gentle lady, gentle lady, trust him not

Do not trust him, gentle lady, gentle lady, trust him not.

Do not turn so coldly from me, I would only guard thy youth
From his proud and withering scorn, lass, I would only tell the truth
I would shield thee from all evil, save thee from the tempter's snare
Lady shun the dark-eyed stranger, gentle lady, him beware
Lady shun the dark-eyed stranger, gentle lady, him beware .

Once there lived a maiden good, lass, pure and sweet, and like thee, fair
First he wooed thee, wooed and won her, filled her gentle heart with care
Then he heeded not her pleading, cared he not her life to save
Soon she perished, now she's sleeping in the cold and silent grave.

Soon she perished, now she's sleeping in the cold and silent grave.

Keep thy gold, I do not wish it. Many years I have prayed for this
To foil him of his ambition, rob him of expected bliss
You may think and you may wonder what makes me so stern and wild
Lady, in that graveyard yonder lies the gypsy's only child

Lady, in the graveyard yonder lies the gypsy's only child.

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



The Rose of Allendale

 

The morn was fair, the sky was clear,
No breath came over the lea,
When Mary left her highland cot
To wander forth with me.
Though flowers decked the mountainside
And fragrant was the vale,
By far the sweetest flower there
Was the Rose of Allendale.

 

(Chorus): The Rose of Allendale,
Sweet Rose of Allendale,
By far the sweetest flower there
Was the Rose of Allendale.

 

And where'er I wandered east or west,
Though fate began to lower,
A solace still to me was she
In sorrow's lonely hour.
For when tempests lashed our gallant barque,
And rent her shivering sail
One maiden’s form withstood the storm,
'Twas the Rose of Allendale.

(Chorus )

 

Oh when when my fevered lips were parched
On Africk's burning sands,
Oh she whispers hopes of happiness
And tales of distant lands.
For my life had been a wilderness,
Unswept by fortune's gales
Had fate not linked my lot with hers,
The Rose of Allendale.

(Chorus)

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Old Armchair

 

Now my grandmother she, at the age of eighty three,
One day was taken ill and died;
And after she was dead, oh, of course, the will was read,
By a lawyer who was seated by my side.
To my brother it was found had left one hundred pound,
And my sister, likewise, I declare;
But when it came to me, oh, the lawyer said, "I see,
That her left to you the old armchair."

(Chorus): How they tittered, how they chaffed,
How me brothers and me sisters laughed,
When they heard the lawyer declare,
"Grannie's only left you her old armchair."

Well, I said it was not fair but then I didna care,
And in the evening I took the chair away;
Oh, how me neighbours laughed, how me brother chaffed,
For he said, "It will be useful some day.
When you settles down in life, finds a girl to be your wife,
In the wintertime, boy, I declare;
On a cold and frosty night, when the fire burns bright,
You can sit her in the old armchair."

 

(Chorus): Still they tittered, still they chaffed,
Still me brothers and me sisters laughed,
When they heard the lawyer declare,
"Grannie's only left you her old armchair."

My brother's dream come true, for in a year or two,
I had settled down in married life;
For I first the girl did court and then the ring I bought,
And I took her to the church to be my wife.
We settled down she was as happy as could be,
And in the wintertime, boys, I declare,
On a cold and frosty night when the fire burns bright,
I can sit her in the old armchair.

(Chorus)

But when I came home one night, I had an awful fright,
For the seat had fallen out upon the floor;
And there to my surprise, there before me eyes,
Was a lot of gold, a thousand pounds, or more.
When my brother heard of this, oh, the fellow, I confess,
He went nearly mad with rage and tore his hair;
But I only laughed at him and I said, " Don’t you wish, Jim,
That her’d left to you the old armchair.”

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

Napoleon Bonaparte

 

(Chorus): My name's Napoleon Bonaparte, I'm the conqueror of all nations,
I've banished German legions and I’ve sent Kings from their thrones.
I've banished Dukes and Earls and splendid congregations
And now I am transported to St Helena's shore.

 

They say the cause of my downfall was the losing of my consort,
For to wed the German's daughter it grieved my heart full sore.
But I ne'er shall blame the female frame for she did never me ashame
And she saw me in battle flame and she did me adore.

(Chorus)

 

My golden eagles were cut down by Wellington's allied armies,
O'er Russian hills through frost and snow I still my laurels wore.
But I severely felt the rod through meddling with the works of God,
For coin and golden images in thousands down I tore.
 

I stole Malta's Golden Gates, I did the work of God's disgrace,
But if you’ll give me time and place to him back I will restore.
Now I’m on the desert isle, where the rats the devil they would afright

But I hopes to shine in armour bright through Europe once more.

(Chorus)

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Farmer’s Boy

The sun had set behind yon hill
When across the dreary moor,
Weary and lame a poor boy came
Up to a farmer's door.
”Can you tell me, where’ere there be
One that will give me employ

 

(Chorus) To plough and sow, to reap and mow
And be a farmer's boy,
And be a farmer's boy?

”My father's dead my mother’s left,
With five children large and small;
And what is worse, my mother says,
I'm the eldest of them all.
Though little I be yet I’d work hard
If you would me employ.

(Chorus)

 

“And if you no boy do want,

One favour I do ask

Oh shelter me till the break of day

From this cold winter’s blast

At the break of day I’ll haste away

Elsewhere to seek employ.”

(Chorus)

The farmer’s wife cried, well, “ Try the lad;
Let him no longer seek !”
”Oh, yes, father do” the daughter cried,
While the tears rolled down her cheek,
”For a boy who will work it is hard to find
So father him employ.

Don’t let him go,

But let him stay

And be a farmer’s boy

And be a farmer’s boy.”

In course of time the boy grew up
And the rich old couple died.

Leaving the lad the farm they had
The daughter for his bride.
Now the boy that was, a man now is
He often thinks and he smiles with joy


And he blesses the day

When he came that way
To be a farmer's boy,
To be a farmer's boy.

 

Song transcribed by Trevor Bailey

 


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