When Spring Comes in

I was feeling rather Springy this week and so asked Rob for some notes on this pretty little number that he sings so well:

"Still a while to go before Spring gets sprung, but the days are begining to lengthen, and we are seeing one or two bright clear days.

'When Spring Comes In' is from the collection of the Copper family of Rottingdean, Sussex, and may not even have been collected anywhere else. It heads up the chapter for April in Bob Copper's book A Song For Every Season, and is one of my favourite seasonal songs, and though it does have a somewhat 'lost England' faux nostalgia feel to it now, I don't think there's anything wrong with a bit of romanticism now and again.

It is not a particularly complex song, either musically or lyrically but it does remind us rather neatly that although Spring is a time of new life and new beginnings, nevertheless "..the daffa-down dillys which we admire, will die and fade away". Alan Seeger the American poet killed in action in World War I, wrote that "I Have a Rendezvous with Death ... When Spring comes round again this year And the first meadow-flowers appear". It may be Springtime, but the old guy with the scythe is never far away.

Nonetheless, it is a great upbeat and fun song to sing, especially when surrounded by good ale and good company. As Bob copper says in that same chapter:

"Although a song sung alone on the hillside under the wide blue sky helps the day along, a song with good companions in the hot smoky atmosphere of the tap-room is something altogether more cheery and satisfying."

I'll second that."

Rob

When Spring comes on then the birds do sing,
The lambs do skip and the bells do ring
While we enjoy their glorious charm so noble and so gay.

Chorus: The primrose blooms, the cowslips too,
The violets in their sweet retire, the roses shining through the briar,
And the daffodown-dillies which we admire will die and fade away.

Young men and maidens will be seen
On mountains high and meadows green,
They will talk of love and sport and play
While them young lambs do skip away,
At night they homeward wend their way
When evening stars appear.

(Chorus)

The dairymaid to milking goes, her blooming cheeks as red as a rose,
And she carries her pail all on her arm so cheerful and so gay,
She milks, she sings, and the valleys ring.
The small birds on the branches there sit listening to this lovely fair
For she is her master's trust and care,
She is the ploughman's joy.

(Chorus)