Archive for the 'Irish/british' Category



The Cherry Tree Carol


h1 Monday, December 1st, 2014

Brought to you from the 15th century, this carol (Child Ballad 54) tells the story of Mary and Joseph before the baby Jesus was born.

Lyrics:
[F] JOSEPH was an old man,
and an old man was he,
[When he courted lovely [Dm] Mary,
the queen of [F] Galilee. X2]

Joseph and Mary walked
through an orchard good,
Where was cherries and berries,
so red as any blood. X2

Joseph and Mary walked
through an orchard green,
Where was berries and cherries,
as thick as might be seen. X2

O then bespoke Mary,
so meek and so mild:
‘Pluck me one cherry, Joseph,
for I am with child.’ X2

O then bespoke Joseph,
with words most unkind:
‘Let him pluck thee a cherry
that brought thee with child.’X2

O then bespoke the babe,
from within his mother’s womb:
‘Bow down then the tallest tree,
for my mother to have some.’X2

Then bowed down the highest tree
unto his mother’s hand;
She cried, See, dear Joseph,
I have cherries at command.X2

O then bespoke Joseph:
‘I have done Mary wrong;
But cheer up, my dearest,
and be not thou cast down.’ X2

Then Mary plucked a cherry,
as red as the blood,
Then Mary went homeward
with her heavy load.X2

Then Mary took her babe,
and sat him down on her knee,
Saying, My dear son, please tell me
what this world will be.X2

‘O I shall be as dead, mother,
as the stones in this wall;
O the stones in the streets, mother,
shall mourn for me all.X2

‘Upon Easter-day, mother,
my uprising shall be;
O the sun and the moon, mother,
shall both rise with me.’X2

Henry Lee


h1 Wednesday, October 1st, 2014

Derived from Child Ballad #68 “Young Hunting,” this classic tale of murder by a jilted lover is a good example of a Fatal Error. If Henry Lee had held his tongue about his love in that “Merry Green Land” he may have been able to escape his jealous girlfriend’s dagger.

Lyrics:
[E] Get down, [A] get down, [E] little Henry Lee, and stay all [B7] night [E] with me.
[E] The very best [A] lodging I [E] can afford will be fare [B7] better’n [E] thee.”
 [A] “I can’t get down, and I [E] won’t get down, and [A] stay all night with [B7] thee,
[E] For the girl I [A] have in that [E] merry green land, I love far [B7] better’n [E] thee.”

She leaned herself against a fence, just for a kiss or two;
With a little weapon-knife in her hand, she plugged him through and through.
”Come all you ladies in the town, a secret for me to keep,
With a diamond ring held on my hand I’ll never will be forsake.”

“Some take him by his lily-white hand, some take him by his feet.
We’ll throw him in this deep, deep well, more than one hundred feet.
Lie there, lie there, loving Henry Lee, till the flesh drops from your bones.
The girl you have in that merry green land still wants for your return.”

“Fly down, fly down, you little bird, and alight on my right knee.
Your cage will be of purest gold, in deed of property.”
”I can’t fly down, or I won’t fly down, and alight on your right knee.
A girl would murder her own true love would kill a little bird like me.”

“If I had my bend and bow, my arrow and my string,
I’d pierce a dart so nigh your heart your wobble would be in vain.”
”If you had had your bend and bow, your arrow and your string,
I’d fly away to the merry green land and tell what I have seen.”

Risselty Rosselty Now Now Now


h1 Monday, September 1st, 2014

Derived from an old Scottish folk song “The Wee Cooper O’ Fife” with a nonsense chorus. It was featured in the Alfred Hitchcock classic film “The Birds.” The tune sounds like dance music from another time.

Lyrics:
[A] I married a wife in the [D] month of [A] June,
   
Risselty rosselty, now now now!

I carried her off by the [D] light of the [A] moon (in a silver spoon)
   
Risselty rosselty, hey bombosity, nickety nackety,
retrical quality, willaby wallaby now now now!

She combed her hair but once a year,
   
Risselty rosselty, now now now!

With every rake she gave a tear,
   
Risselty rosselty, hey bombosity, nickety nackety,
retrical quality, willaby wallaby now now now!

She swept the floor but once a year,
   
Risselty rosselty, now now now!

She swore her broom was much too dear,
   
Risselty rosselty, hey bombosity, nickety nackety,
retrical quality, willaby wallaby now now now!

She churned the butter in dad’s old boot,
   
Risselty rosselty, now now now!

And for a dasher she uses her foot,
   
Risselty rosselty, hey bombosity, nickety nackety,
retrical quality, willaby wallaby now now now!

The butter came out a grizzledy gray,
   
Risselty rosselty, now now now!

The cheese took legs and ran away,
   
Risselty rosselty, hey bombosity, nickety nackety,
retrical quality, willaby wallaby now now now!

Hard Times of Old England


h1 Tuesday, July 1st, 2014

As Camilla and I prepare for our extensive Concert Tour through the UK, The Netherlands, Belgium and Germany, I’m reminded of this song. As part of the Folk Process, I’ve replaced the last line: “And soon I’ll have occasion to alter my song” with “
And soon we’ll have England financially strong,” a wish for now as it was in the Nineteenth Century.

The earliest broadside of this ballad came out before 1820, following the Napoleonic Wars. English tradesmen couldn’t find work. Soldiers and sailors returning to civilian life were faced with possible starvation. The singer however, ends on an optimistic note hoping there will be good times in old England once again.

Lyrics:
[G] Oh come all you [Bm] tradesmen who [Em] travel along

I’m [C] asking you [D] now where the [G] work has all gone
[C]
Long time I’ve been [D] traveling and I [G] cannot find none
Sing, Oh the hard [D] ti-m-es of old [G] England
In old [C] England [D] very hard [G] times

Provisions you find in the shops, it is true

But if you’ve got no money, there’s none there for you

So what are the poor folk and their families to do
Sing, Oh the hard times of old England
In old England very hard times

Our soldiers and sailors have come from war

They’re fighting for King and for country once more

Home to be starved, better stayed where they were
Sing, Oh the hard times of old England
In old England very hard times

And now to conclude and to finish my song

I’m hoping these hard times will not be here long

And soon we’ll have England financially strong
Sing, Oh the good times of old England
In old England very good times

The Month of January


h1 Wednesday, January 1st, 2014

This traditional song [Roud Folksong Database #175] has been sung all over the world. It’s the tragic story of a young woman who became pregnant by her poor lover. Her rich parents bribe the young man to disappear. She is left to freeze in the cold with her infant.

I recorded this with the “Jetglow” Rickenbacker given to me by my friend Bill Lee, using my new Janglebox 3 for both Rickenbacker 12-string and bass.

Lyrics:
Capo 1st fret Key of D

[D] It was in the month of January, the [C] hills were clad in [D] snow
And over hills and valleys, to my true love I did [G] go
[D] It was there I met a pretty fair maid, with a salt tear in her [C] eye
[D] She had a wee baby in her arms, and [C] bitter she did [D] cry

“Oh, cruel was my father, he barred the door on me
And cruel was my mother, this fate she let me see
And cruel was my own true love, he changed his mind for gold
Cruel was that winter’s night, it pierced my heart with cold”

Oh, the higher that the palm tree grows, the sweeter is the bark
And the fairer that a young man speaks, the falser is his heart
He will kiss you and embrace you, ’til he thinks he has you won
Then he’ll go away and leave you all for another one

So come all you fair and tender maidens, a warning take by me
And never try to build your nest on top of a high tree
For the roots, they will all wither, and the branches all decay
And the beauties of a fair young man, will all soon fade away

I Heard The Voice Of Jesus


h1 Thursday, August 1st, 2013

This hymn was written by Horatius Bonar of Edinburgh Scotland around 1866. He put these lyrics to an existing folk tune “Dives and Lazarus.” Although the song has been around for over a century, I had never heard it before attending a little blue church on the corner near our house. Someone in the congregation had requested it and the melody was so sweet I had to record it.
Lyrics:
[Gm] I heard the voice of [Bb] Jesus [F] say, [Gm] “Come unto Me and [F] rest;
[Gm] Lay down, thou weary [Bb] one, lay [F] down Thy head upon My [Gm] breast.”
[Bb] I came to Jesus [F] as I was, [Bb] weary and worn and [F] sad;
[Gm] I found in Him a [Bb] resting [F] place, and [Gm] He has made me glad.

I heard the voice of Jesus say, “Behold, I freely give
The living water; thirsty one, stoop down, and drink, and live.”
I came to Jesus, and I drank of that life giving stream;
My thirst was quenched, my soul revived, and now I live in Him.

I heard the voice of Jesus say, “I am this dark world’s Light;
Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise, and all thy day be bright.”
I looked to Jesus, and I found in Him my Star, my Sun;
And in that light of life I’ll walk, till traveling days are done.

Early One Morning


h1 Wednesday, May 1st, 2013

“Early One Morning”, also known as “The Lovesick Maiden” is an English folk song that dates back to 1787. It was cataloged by Roud #12682. I learned this song in glee club at the Latin School of Chicago in the late 1950s. It has such a lovely melody that I decided not to add harmony.
Lyrics:
[E] Early one morning,
[A] Just as the sun was [B] rising,
[E] I heard a young maid sing,
[A] In the [B] valley down [E] below.

CHORUS:
[B] Oh, don’t [E] deceive me,
[B] Oh, never [E] leave me,
How could you [A] use
A [B] poor maiden [E] so?

Remember the vows,
You made to your Mary,
Remember the bow’r,
Where you vowed to be true,

Chorus

Oh Gay is the garland,
And fresh are the roses,
I’ve culled from the garden,
To place upon thy brow.

Chorus

Thus sang the poor maiden,
Her sorrows bewailing,
Thus sang the poor maid,
In the valley down below.

Chorus

Early one morning,
Just as the sun was rising,
I heard a young maid sing,
In the valley down below.

Chorus

Away With Rum


h1 Thursday, November 1st, 2012

I played “Rum by Gum” on the Chad Mitchell Trio’s LP “Mighty Day On Campus” in 1961. The origin is difficult to determine. It dates back to England in the 1890s and was possibly a music hall song. There’s a rather lengthy but inconclusive discussion of it HERE.
Lyrics:
[G] We’re coming, we’re coming, our [D] brave little [G] band
[G] On the right side of temperance we [D] do take our stand
We [D] don’t use [G] tobacco, [D] because we do [G] think
[G] The people who use it are [D] likely to [G] drink

[G] Away, away with rum by gum, [D] with rum by gum, [G] with rum by gum
[G] Away, away with rum by gum, [D] the song of the temperance [G] union

We never eat fruit cake because it has rum
And one little taste turns a man to a bum
Oh, can you imagine a sorrier sight
Than a man eating fruit cake until he gets tight

Away, away with rum by gum, with rum by gum, with rum by gum
Away, away with rum by gum, the song of the temperance union

We never eat cookies because they have yeast
And one little bite turns a man to a beast
Oh, can you imagine a sadder disgrace
Than a man in the gutter with crumbs on his face

Away, away with rum by gum, with rum by gum, with rum by gum
Away, away with rum by gum, the song of the temperance union

We never drink water, they put it in gin
One little sip and a man starts to grin
Oh can you imagine the horrible sight
Of a man drinking water and singing all night

Isn’t It Grand?


h1 Wednesday, August 1st, 2012

This is an old English music hall song making fun of death and funerals. I turned 70 on July 13, 2012. People were shocked! So was I. That’s why I decided to record this song for the Folk Den on July 14. Last night, July 31, my Brother Brian called to tell us that my mother Dorothy had passed away just three days after her 102nd birthday. We’d spent the day with her in Tucson where my grandson James and I had played guitars and sung her favorite songs to her.

When we got the sad news, Camilla wrote this blog post:

Now we’ll have a bloody good cry.
And always remember: The longer you live
The sooner you’ll going to die

Lyrics:
Look at the coffin, with golden handles
Isn’t it grand, boys, to be bloody-well dead?

Let’s not have a sniffle, let’s have a bloody-good cry
And always remember: The longer you live
The sooner you’ll going to die

Look at the flowers, all bloody withered
Isn’t it grand, boys, to be bloody-well dead?

Let’s not have a sniffle, let’s have a bloody-good cry
And always remember: The longer you live
The sooner you’ll going to die

Look at the preacher, a bloody-nice fellow
Isn’t it grand, boys, to be bloody-well dead?

Let’s not have a sniffle, let’s have a bloody-good cry
And always remember: The longer you live
The sooner you’ll going to die

Look at the widow, lovely young female
Isn’t it grand, boys, to be bloody-well dead?

Let’s not have a sniffle, let’s have a bloody-good cry
And always remember: The longer you live
The sooner you’ll going to die

When Jones’s Ale Was New


h1 Friday, June 1st, 2012

This marks the 200th song in the Folk Den!

“When Jones’s Ale Was New” is a popular drinking song from Olde England, circa 1594. The first printed version was entered at Stationer’s Register in 1595, “a ballet intituled Jone’s ale is newe’, entered by John Danter. It appears in Thomas D’Urfey’s Pills to Purge Melancholy,1707 edition, vol III, no. 133, and in Vol V in 1719, as The Jovial Tinker, with the tune. William Chappell quoted this introduction, from a broadside collection in the Bodleian Library: All you that do this merry ditty view.
 Taste of Joan’s ale, for it is strong and new.

The full title was: “Joan’s ale is new; or a new, merry medley, shewing the power, the strength, the operation and the virtue that remains in good ale, which is accounted the mother drink of England.”

Also know as: When Johnson’s Ale Was New / When Jones’s Ale Was New

[ Roud 139 ; Ballad Index Doe168 ; trad.]

A.L. Lloyd sang “When Johnson’s Ale Was New” in 1956 on his Riverside album English Drinking Songs. He commented in the sleeve notes:

“Here and there at Easter time, the “Jolly-boys” or “Pace-eggers” go from house to house, singing songs and begging for eggs. They wear clownish disguises: the hunch-backed man, the long-nosed man, the fettered prisoner, the man-woman etc. Johnson’s Ale (or John’s or Joan’s) is one of their favourite songs. Whether the drinking song comes from the pace-egging version or the other way round, we do not know. It is an old song. Ben Johnson knew it and mentioned it in his 16th century Tale of a Tub. Its qualities are durable, for it has altered little in 350 years. It appeals most to those who are most elevated.”

Some say this song derives its name from the pub owner, Davy Jones, who would put drunken sailors into his ale locker and sell them as crew to passing ships; hence the phrase “Davy Jones Locker.”

Or it could possibly refer to good natured Paul Jones, director of ibiblio.org UNC Chapel Hill.

Lyrics:
[C] Come all you honest labouring men that work hard all the day,
And join with me at the Barley Mow to [Dm] pass an hour [G] away,
Where we can sing and drink and be merry,
And [F] drive away all our cares and worry,
[C] When Jones’s ale was new, [Am] my boys, when [G] Jones’s ale was [C] new.

And they ordered their [G] pints of beer and bottles of sherry
[F] To carry them over the [C] hills so merry,
When Jones’s ale was new, [Am] my boys, when [G] Jones’s ale [C] was new.

The first to come in was the Ploughman with sweat all on his brow,
Up with the lark at the break of day he guides the speedy plough,
He drives his team, how they do toil,
O’er hill and valley to turn the soil,
When Jones’s ale was new, my boys, when Jones’s ale was new.

And they ordered their pints of beer and bottles of sherry
To carry them over the hills so merry,
When Jones’s ale was new, my boys, when Jones’s ale was new.

The next to come was the Blacksmith his brawny arms all bare,
And with his pint of Jones’s ale he has no fear or care,
Throughout the day his hammer he’s swinging,
And he sings when he hears the anvil ringing,
When Jones’s ale was new, my boys, when Jones’s ale was new.

And they ordered their pints of beer and bottles of sherry
To carry them over the hills so merry,
When Jones’s ale was new, my boys, when Jones’s ale was new.

The next to come in was the Scytheman so cheerful and so brown,
And with the rhythm of his scythe the corn he does mow down,
He works, he mows, he sweats and he blows.
And he leaves his swathes laying all in rows,
When Jones’s ale was new, my boys, when Jones’s ale was new.

And they ordered their pints of beer and bottles of sherry
To carry them over the hills so merry,
When Jones’s ale was new, my boys, when Jones’s ale was new.

The next to come in was the Tinker and he was no small beer drinker
And he was no small beer drinker to join the jovial crew,
He told the old woman he’d mend her old kettle,
Good Lord how his hammer and tongs did rattle,
When Jones’s ale was new, my boys, when Jones’s ale was new.

And they ordered their pints of beer and bottles of sherry
To carry them over the hills so merry,
When Jones’s ale was new, my boys, when Jones’s ale was new.

Now here is Jones our Landlord a jovial man is he,
Likewise his wife a buxom lass who joins in harmony,
We wish them happiness and good will
While our pots and glasses they do fill,
When Jones’s ale was new, my boys, when Jones’s ale was new.

And they ordered their pints of beer and bottles of sherry
To carry them over the hills so merry,
When Jones’s ale was new, my boys, when Jones’s ale was new.