Death and the Lady

And so we come to the end of May and what a way to finish. This weeks song is taken from the penguin book of English Folk Songs and has fascinated me for a long while before I arranged a version of it. The main theme of this song deals with a young lady as she comes to terms with the image of death who has come for her; first she is curious to know who this strange figure is, then she tries to fight her fate by offering jewels and gold and finally she accepts her lot and dictates her epitaph, although she still feels aggrieved by the turn of things.

The idea of death as having human characteristics has gone through many stages in cultural and religious history with every group of people coming up with an idea and trying to make sense of what drives this infinite end. He has been seen as fallible and has been tricked or bribed, he has been a passive conductor of souls, the ending of torment and the passing to the afterlife, something to be feared, celebrated and accepted.

When arranging this song, I felt that there were three separate stages to the song, the lady's ignorance to what the day holds, death's conversation and right at the end the knowledge that life goes on for many, that death is not a creature seeking pleasure from the pain of others, but the only definite thing that will happen to us in life.

This recording was taken from my new E.P 'Tell Tale Signs' available as both a download and physical copy from Bandcamp

Tim

As I walked out one morn in May
The birds did sing and the lambs did play,
The birds did sing and the lambs did play;
I met an old man,
I met an old man by the way.

His head was bald, his beard was grey,
His coat was of a myrtle shade,
I asked him what strange countryman,
Or what strange place,
Or what strange place he did belong.

“My name is Death, cannot you see?
Lords, dukes and ladies bow down to me.
And you are one of those branches three,
And you fair maid,
And you fair maid must come with me.”

“I'll give you gold and jewels rare,
I'll give you costly robes to wear,
I'll give you all my wealth in store,
If you'll let me live,
If you'll let me live a few years more.”

“Fair lady, lay your robes aside,
No longer glory in your pride.
And now, sweet maid, make no delay,
Your time is come,
Your time is come and you must away.”

And not long after this fair maid died;
“Write on my tomb,” the lady cried,
“Here lies a poor distressed maid,
Whom Death now lately,
Whom Death now lately hath betrayed.”