Sam Hall

A little while ago we had the excellent Sam Brookes drop into the session and he performed this poignant song of an unrepentant criminal sentenced to death and his last waking thoughts. The song was originally called 'Jack Hall', the eponymous character being a 18th century criminal hung (hanged?) at Tyburn. Over the ensuing years the song has produced numerous offspring some of which cast the criminal as an embittered fellow with a twisted smile and a wry sense of humour. In Cecil Sharp's '100 English Folk Songs' he notes that in the versions he collected, all but one shared a variant of the tune to the song 'Admiral Benbow' and posits that as Jack was hung in 1701 and Benbow died in 1702, the latter song was written to fit the former tune.

In this version Sam is set out almost as a Robin Hood character with a strong sense of justice and a popular person as well, whilst considering this little bit of writing, I was reminded of Michel Foucault's essay 'Spectacle of the Scaffold' that looks at the change in punishment and justice from the time of hanging to the institutionalising of the judicial system: It's more complex than I can put here but have a look at this link. Either way, Sam (or Jack) has, over time, presented many different views on the criminal and his reflection on his actions.

Tim

For my name is Sam Hall, Chimney Sweep, Chimney Sweep 

For my name is Sam Hall, Chimney Sweep 

For my name is Sam Hall, And I've robbed both big and small
Now my neck must pay for all when I die, when I die
Oh my neck must pay for all when I die, when I die

I've just twenty pounds In store That's not all, Thats not all ,

I've just twenty pounds In store, That's not all

I've just twenty pounds In store, And I'll rob for tweny more 

Oh the rich must help the poor so must I, so must I 

Oh the rich must help the poor so must I 

Now I killed a man they said, so they said, so they said 

Oh I killed a man they said, so they said 

Oh I killed a man they said bashed in his bloody head 

Oh the rich must help the poor so must I, so must I 

Oh the rich must help the poor so must I

Ah They took me to Cooch Hill In a cart, in a cart

Ah They took me to Cooch Hill In a cart 

Ah They took me to Cooch Hill and I stopped to make me will

Oh The best of friends must part so must I, so must I 

Oh The best of friends must part so must I 

Up the ladder I did Grope that's no joke, thats no joke, 

Up the ladder I did Grope that's no joke 

Up the ladder I did Grope and the hangman pulled the rope 

 And ne're a word I spoke, tumblin' down, tumblin' down 

And ne're a word I spoke, tumblin' down

For my name is Sam Hall, Chimney Sweep, Chimney Sweep 

For my name is Sam Hall, Chimney Sweep 

For my name is Sam Hall, And I've robbed both big and small
Now my neck did pay for all when I die, when I die
Oh my neck did pay for all when I die, when I die

Bath Folk Festival Special part 2 of 2

Fly Away

This first track is by Lazibyrd, an excellent duo who play around several festivals and towns in the South West and who competed in the New Shoots competition at the Bath Folk Festival. The song is about the fact that you can always find things to do, even in the quietest villages in the country and if there's nothing happening... make something happen!

Why does gravity keep pulling me down?
Do I really need my feet on the ground?
And my head keeps spinning round and round

Is it wrong to want to reach the sky
Feel frustrated and I don't know why
Want to hide and yet I know I'll die

Ch: I just want to fly, I just want to fly, I just want to fly away

I just want to be the apple's eye
Straight and sober but I'm feeling high
All my dreams come true if I just try

Why does gravity keep pulling me down...

Ch:

When I was a Cowgirl

Angel Ridge finished their set today at the Wine Vaults with this take on the traditional American song 'When I was a Cowboy'

When I was a cowgirl, way out on the Western Plains,
When I was a cowgirl, way out on the Western Plains,
I made half a million pullin’ the buffalo reins.

refrain:
Coma-cow-cow, coma-cow-cow, yicky-yicky-yea.

What was the greatest battle here on the Western plains
When we an’ a bunch o’ cowgirls run into Jesse James

When me an’ a bunch o’ cowboys run into Jesse James.
De bullets was a-flyin’ jus’ like a shower of rain.

What was the greatest battle ever on Bunker Hill
When we an’ a bunch o’ cowgirls run into Buffalo Bill

When me an’ a bunch o’ cowgirls run into Buffalo Bill
We lassoed his ass and left him up on Bunker Hill

Maid on the Shore

I finished my time at the Bath Folk Week with Martin Vogwell, we met upon a shared billing a while ago and he has become a good friend since. Here is his lovely version of the British Ballad that tells the tale of clever lass outwitting, quite frankly, very dull-witted sailors

Oh there was a sea captain who ploughed the salt seas
And the weather was pleasant and clear-o
And a beautiful maiden he chanced for to spy
She was sitting alone on that rocky old shore
She was sitting alone by the shore

So the sailors did hoist out a very long boat
And it's off for the shore they did steer-o,
Saying, “Ma'am if you please will you enter on board
To view a fine cargo of costly ware,
To view a fine cargo of ware.”

And when they've arrived alongside of the ship
Oh the captain he ordered a chair-o
Saying, “First you will lie in my arms this night
And then I'll hand you to my jolly crew,
Then I'll hand you to my jolly crew.”

So she sat herself down in the stern of the ship
And the weather was pleasant and clear-o
And she sung so neat, so sweet and complete,
She sung the sailors and captain right off to sleep,
She sung sailors and captain to sleep.

Well she's robbed them of silver, she's robbed them of gold,
And she's plundered their bright costly ware-o.
And the captain's bright sword she's took for an oar
And she's sailed away for that rocky old shore,
And she's sailed away for the shore.

“Oh were my men drunk or were my men mad
Or were my men drowned in care-o
That they let her escape that made us so sad?
And the sailors all wish that she was there-o
Oh the sailors all with she was there

Well the captain he's gone to the stern of the boat
And away from the shore they sail-o
She saluted the captain and all of the crew
Saying "I'm a maid on the shore once more
I'm a maid on the shore once more.”
And so ends another week of Bathonian folk festivities, I hope you had a lovely time and we hope to see you again next year. To all of the performers a huge thank you as well, I hope you all have good luck with your music from here on and that I'll meet you again soon

Tim

Bath Folk Festival Special part 1 of 2

I'm sick

This week has been the Bath Folk Festival and as such I decided to track down some of my favourite performers around the city and record some of their tracks.

On Friday night I caught up with Dave Selby after his gig with Gren Bartley (I dropped in to join Gren playing last week's song 'Midnight melody'). Dave is a fantastic lyric writer and editor of the Bath Burp, Bath's première arts magazine. He told me that "It's about saying to a friend 'thank you for holding me together and taking care of me, but it's time for you to let go before you get dragged down too.' It's a right larf"

I'm sick,
I've been treading water so long
My eyes are filled with salt and my lungs are gone
Your hands held me up and kept me breathing
Now it's time to fade and the devil got even

Dear friends I apologise
I didn't plan on turning worthless in my own eyes
If you remember me before I wandered off please
Erase the memories you made since I was lost

Two Tunes


On Saturday, just before my gig at the Widcombe Social Club, I was hanging out with Jon Hicks, one of the most incredible guitarists I've heard. I asked him to pop down a couple of tunes and he did so as easily as tying his shoelace, phenomenal stuff!

Salty Water

A real highlight for me this one, Beth Porter is one of the most hard working young musicians I know, playing in an array if different groups and providing session work with over 60 albums that have her name somewhere! She also performs with her own group the Availables and is a top notch songwriter to boot. We sat down in a skittle alley, the sound of gypsy swing guitar drifting through the walls and she performed this heartbreaking song which was in part inspired by a murder that happened behind her house in Bath.

I lay, I lay, I lay
My back won't leave the floor
And the thoughts won't leave my mind
They're stuck just like before

Ch: So go and fetch the doctor
Go and fetch my man
Give me salty water
Lift me if you can

And I cried, I cried, I cried
No one came to see
And the pool is getting wide
Please come set me free

Ch:

And I died, I died, I died
That's ok with me
And I left my family behind
They never came for me

Ch:

Part two will come later this afternoon...

The Furrier's Lament and Midnight Melody

Furrier's Lament
I'm in Broadstairs this weekend at the Folk Festival and met Chris Rusbridge an excellent singer and performer with Apple of my Eye. He sung this song at a folk club slot I was playing saying that his band felt that it was a touch too miserable to go in their sets, however he presented such a beautifully crafted song that I just had to get a recording of it for the blog. In conversation Chris said that:

"This song is called the 'Furrier's Lament' as the first line refers to a man who collects furs that he's trapped in the woods although on the other hand the first line of the chorus is 'Oh bring me the rags' so maybe that should be the title... maybe it's really a song that doesn't need a name, maybe it's a song that just needs to be adopted and the people can call it what they will"

Ch: Oh bring the rags
Oh bring me the wood
Oh bring me the light if you'll darling
My purpose is good

I brought home furs that I caught in the woods
I wrapped us so warmly and well
And what was left over I took it in armfuls
And baskets to market to sell
And in the evening we roasted the nuts that you'd gathered
And you got out your violin
Friends would come over and we'd sit and laugh
But after they'd left
The sadness set in

Ch:

My purpose is not to cause injury darling
My purpose is not to cause pain
But I know that you know that I mean when I say
That I won't start over again
And in the evening we roasted the nuts that you'd gathered
And you got out your violin
Your friends would come over and we'd sit and laugh
But after they'd left
The sadness set in

Ch:

It was on Sunday evening when I'd finished working
I stopped in the pub for a beer
The landlord's son was telling some wild story
And I went over to hear
How in days long gone past they would light up the bonfire
To warn all the boats from the shore
And I thought of you all alone in the dark
And I'm sorry my darling
I wanted more

Ch:

This house on the hill for too many years has silently stood

Midnight Melody

Later on I met up with Gren Bartley, an excellent singer and guitarist who has embarked on his own song a week project called 'Sketches' a series of songs that needed a home that are available as free downloads from his Soundcloud page:

"This song is about the things that we sometimes miss out on due to our decisions. A meteor shower took place last night but due to unforseen drinking (thanks Tim) I was still asleep at daybreak. These things happen regularly in the life of a musician!"

Tim

We also videoed the piece as well as some of the... creative process! 

I coveted the morning's broken spell
Let the chorus sing you its truths
Too long I've missed the sky
That brings the first light
La de la...

The rug was pulled from under the feet of the night
Sending it right back home
This midnight melody
Does not belong to me
La de la...

Ch: The breeze that swept from overseas
Howled in empty bottles of beer
Well, they sang all night
Love you should have heard them sing

The road was kind of dusty I couldn't walk
Half as tall as I'd have liked
The stars were kinder to my skin
Then the sun could ever have been
la de la...

Perhaps I'll break the back of the journey, I'm hitching a lift
Some midnight shift humming I'm home
Has there been something going on
I'm entirely separate from?
La de la...

Ch:

Ye Banks and Braes o' Bonnie Doon

Another new member of the group, Kristina, sings this beautiful song;

"I have known this song since I was about 11, when we moved back up to Scotland after several years doon south, and my brother, still at primary school, was competing in Burns Club competitions with a terrible Mancunian accent! I have always loved it, as, for me, classically trained and particularly versed in the world of Schubert and lieder, this is a song with a real Romantic feel, showing man affected by and joined to nature, and lyrical and personal in its approach. Burns was a real collector of folk tunes and often took existing tunes to use as settings for his own words. This tune has been attributed to Charles Miller, but we do not really know where it comes from. Settings have since been made by several classical composers including Ravel, Quilter and Britten, who changes the tune quite drastically, but it is still well worth a listen! Burns was admired by Goethe and Schiller, and was really quite a success in his day, other poems having been set all over the world, as far as Japan and even by composers as unlikely as Shostakovich!"

Kristina

Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care!
Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn:
Thou minds me o' departed joys,
Departed never to return.

Aft hae I rov'd by Bonie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine:
And ilka bird sang o' its Luve,
And fondly sae did I o' mine;
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree!
And may fause Luver staw my rose,
But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.