“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.”

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

(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.

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)

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.”

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.”

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

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.”

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 )

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.”

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.”

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

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.

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.

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.