tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63873187007516928352024-03-13T15:07:35.328+00:00A Sunday SongThe Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-44897889242523551542012-12-30T11:18:00.001+00:002013-01-04T13:34:31.118+00:00Country Life<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F72969896" width="100%"></iframe><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the final Sunday song of the year, Rob leads us in a popular chorus;</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><br />"Fantastic chorus song, everbody seems to know it, even when they don't. Like so many songs, its origins are suitably obscure, but if anyone is interested, here's a good place to start looking: <a href="http://mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=47543">http://mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=47543</a>.<br />I learned it originally from Mike Waterson, as, I suspect, did most people, though the recorded Watersons' version on "For Pence and Spicy Ale" only has verses 1 and 4 (plus chorus).<br /><br />The "layland" (or leyland, or lealand, or laylum) upon which the small birds merrily sing, is probably meadowland, or land laid down for pasture, though again there are plenty of different theories. I think "laylum" is an especially interesting word, as I had always just thought of it as a nonsense word which I know from the refrain from one version of The Derby Ram, but apparently it could mean "branch" or possibly "chorus" and much else besides. Incidentally, there are one or two parodies around: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"....And a pox on the life of a country boy</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who's allergic to the new-mown hay."</span></div>
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This is a great 'year round' song to end the Sunday Song blog year with, and fitting too; most of the songs posted on the blog through the year have been perfomed by just one or two musicians, whereas this recording gives a flavour of what those Sunday evenings in the Star are like when we all really get going. Many thanks to Tim for recording the songs and taking the time to run the website, and thanks also to Paul, our host at the Star who has put up with so much from us over the last 12 months."</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rob</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ch:</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />I like to rise when the sun she rises,<br />early in the morning<br />And I like to hear them small birds singing,<br />Merrily upon their layland<br />And hurrah for the life of a country boy,<br />And to ramble in the new mown hay.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In spring we sow at the harvest mow</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />And that is how the seasons round they go<br />but of all the times choose I may<br />To be rambling in the new mown hay.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ch:</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In summer when the summer is hot</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />We sing, and we dance, and we drink a lot<br />We spend all our nights in sport and play<br />And go rambling in the new mown hay</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ch:</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><br />In autumn when the oak trees turn<br />We gather all the wood that's fit to burn<br />We slash and we stash and we stow away<br />And go rambling in the new mown hay</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ch:</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In winter when the skies are gray</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />we hedge and we ditch our time away,<br />and dream of the summer when the sun shines gay,<br />And we ramble in the new mown hay.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ch:</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh Nancy is my darling, she's so gay</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />She blooms like the flowers every day<br />But I love her best in the month of May<br />When we're rambling through the new mown hay<br /><br />Ch:</span></div>
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The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-30292301384902734762012-12-23T10:49:00.002+00:002012-12-23T10:50:11.453+00:00The Nailsbourne Beast Song<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F72292935" width="100%"></iframe><br />
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A lovely little Somerset carol sung by <a href="http://www.concertina.info/carols/">Chris and Anne</a>, it was collected from <a href="http://www.answers.com/topic/ruth-tongue">Ruth Tongue</a> who was a folklorist, collector of stories and performer throughout most of the 20th Century. She says of this song in the book '<a href="http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/0015587X.1959.9717200">Folklore</a>':<br />
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"The Nailsbourne Beast Song in the Cowman's mystery. It may only be sung by him to the cattle in the barn on Christmas Eve. If he is ill, or gives up his work, he must hand it on to a successor. The widow who sang it for me knew it because her husband had not, apparently, considered his successor a fit recipient, and had therefore taught it to his wife in order that she might hand it on to the 'raight one'. I, although a girl, was allowed to learn it because I was born in the chime-hours</div>
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The reference... to the Holy Thorn is of interest because there was a Glastonbury thorn at Nailsbourne that flowered on Old Christmas Eve, when all beasts can speak, and will, unless tethered, come to kneel there"<br />
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Tim<br />
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The Nailsbourne Beasts' Song<br />
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Oh the beasties all heard the angel call<br />
When the cock sang “Christ is born”<br />
And they all kneeled to pray down upon the hay<br />
When the cock sang “Christ is born”<br />
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Chorus: <br />
And the ruddick sang, oh the little ruddick sang<br />
So sweetly sang-ed he<br />
On Chrissimas morn on the blessed thorn<br />
On a twig of the holy tree.<br />
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The oxen did low and the ponies they did bow <br />
When the cock sang “Christ is born”<br />
And the donkey roared “Praise our sweet Lord”<br />
When the cock sang “Christ is born”<br />
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Chorus: <br />
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Let us kneel in the hay for 'tis Chrissimus Day <br />
When the cock sang “Christ is born”<br />
And there's bloom on the twig and the little lambs do jig<br />
When the cock sang “Christ is born”<br />
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Chorus:</div>
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The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-7057587648865083922012-12-16T10:34:00.003+00:002012-12-16T10:47:19.783+00:00The Cause and the Colliery Board<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F71432340" width="100%"></iframe></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week's song is sung by James Froud, an excellent singer songwriter who has recently started attending the session:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Inspired by the documentary 'all our working lives' the song is a fictional story of a man starting his mining career during the reign of the national coal board only to find the mine is closed years later. I was struck by the Victorian living conditions in mining towns and the optimism felt by people after the formation of the coal board, only to be betrayed</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">James</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Said you were a coal mining man</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Said you worked hard all your life</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />And if anyone had ever given you the chance<br />You would have shone like the brightest light<br /><br />Don't remember much about the swinging sixties<br />Don't remember much about free love<br />Just your mother scrimping and saving<br />Trying to make sure you had enough<br /><br />In nineteen sixty five,<br />You started your job for life<br />Proud to follow in the footsteps<br />Proud to know what was right<br /><br />Your fathers had been calling for years<br />To be working for the public and the pockets of their peers<br />Yea these really were the good old days<br />Taking the very first steps towards the socialist state<br /><br />Ch: And now when your sitting on your own,<br />You haven't been back since the day you were gone<br />It's like what you get ain't what you ordered,<br />The difference between the cause and the colliery board<br /><br />Investment was poorest into the pit,<br />Starting the mechanisation of the seems that had been hit<br />Older men said you didn't know you're born,<br />Working in the days of the national colliery board<br /><br />Well then that truly was the case<br />Your skin got thick and tough and your back began to break<br />Looking back you began to love the toil,<br />Getting out became your mantra, in your heart this was your home.<br /><br />Ch</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Do you remember that day back in June,<br />Everyone gathered outside the gates to hear the news.<br />It hit you like a hammer had been swung,<br />The colliery band marched home playing a slow marching drum<br /><br />You took it as an opportunity,<br />Said it was your chance to be free,<br />Always wanted to go see the world some day,<br />Eke out some of that severance pay.</span></div>
The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-14971409961321609502012-12-09T09:15:00.001+00:002012-12-09T09:15:44.837+00:00The Streams of Bunclody<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F70552736" width="100%"></iframe><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week's song is a second track from Rosie Upton:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I first heard the song in the early 1970s when I was in Ireland with a group of itinerant musicians from Bristol. We were in O’Donaghues’ Bar in Dublin just before Easter. I heard someone sing it and wrote down the words. I assume it’s a traditional song. The singer told me that the cuckoo referred to the British occupancy of Ireland. Even so it is a relatively common ‘floating verse’ found in many folk songs from these islands. I’ve heard many recordings including Emmett Spiceland who I heard in Ireland at that time, The Dubliners and of course Christy Moore have versions, all very similar, but I preferred this one. I’ve only recently started singing it again. For years I felt it important to sing material from the English tradition rather than stealing from other traditions. However, my great grandmother Helen Collins came from Dublin, so on the basis that there is some Irish blood tracking through my veins I’ve started singing it again!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh were I at the moss house where the birds do increase<br />By the foot of Mount Leinster or some silent place<br />By the streams of Bunclody where all fortunes do meet<br />Aye and all I would ask is one kiss from you sweet<br /><br />Oh it’s why my love slights me as you might understand<br />For she has a freehold and I have no land<br />She has fine store of riches in silver and gold<br />And everything fitting a house to a home<br /><br />Oh were a clerk and could write a good hand<br />I would write my love a letter that she might understand<br />Oh but I am a poor fellow that is wounded in love<br />Once I lived in Bunclody but now must remove<br /><br />Oh the cuckoo she’s a pretty bird she sings as she flies<br />She brings us good tidings and tells us no lies<br />But she sucks other birds' eggs just to make her voice clear<br />And the more she sings cuckoo the summer draws near<br /><br />So its farewell to my father, my mother adieu<br />My sisters and brothers farewell unto you<br />I am bound out for Americay my fortune to try<br />And when I think on Bunclody I am ready to die</span></div>
The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-87431189360485845862012-12-02T08:55:00.000+00:002012-12-02T08:58:14.832+00:00On Christmas Day<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F69659431?" width="100%"></iframe><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well it's December, everybody's starting to feel slightly Christmassy, now's the perfect time to bring them back down! I heard this song first on Spiers and Boden's album 'Songs' and was captivated by its narrative, message and moral. The story seems so out of place with the traditional image of Jesus and yet, on occasion, his nature as a player of tricks, sometimes vengeful. There is another example in the song '<a href="http://mudcat.org/@displaysong.cfm?SongID=654">The Bitter Withy</a>' which is based upon a piece of gnostic literature written before the formation of what we more readily know as Christianity (a similar tale that may well have been rewritten later is here: '<a href="http://mudcat.org/@displaysong.cfm?SongID=8890">The Holy Well</a>'.) There are other carols though few and far between as well that deal and represent a more paganistic side to Christianity, the Corpus Christi Carol, or '<a href="http://mudcat.org/@displaysong.cfm?SongID=1689">Down in yon Forest</a>' is a lovely example. Going back to the song at hand there are different theories as to what lies behind this song, have a look <a href="http://mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=55114">HERE</a> though my personal favourite is this:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /> 'Another possible background to the song would be the Anglican/Puritan conflict in England. The Puritans did not believe in Christmas, as it has no biblical basis; the date of December 25 was in fact selected by the 4th Century Roman Emperor Constantine as Christ's birthday because it had been Mithras's birthday before that. Constantine had a vested interest in converting his armies (largely Mithraists) smoothly to Christianity, which he had selected as his state religion. The English Puritans thus essentially considered Christmas to be Pagan.'<br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tim</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On Christmas Day it happened so<br />Down in the meadows for to plough,<br />As we were a-ploughing on so fast<br />Up comes sweet Jesus himself at last. <br /><br />“Oh man, oh man, what makes you plough<br />So hard upon the Lord's birthday?”<br />The farmer he answered him with great speed,<br />“For to plough this day we have great need.” <br /><br />His arms did quaver to and fro,<br />His arms did quaver, he could not plough.<br />The ground did open and let him in<br />Before that he could repent of sin. <br /><br />His wife and children are out of place,<br />His beasts and cattle they die away.<br />His beasts and cattle they die away<br />For the breaking of Our Lord's birthday.</span>The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-61595424025933460232012-11-25T08:51:00.000+00:002012-11-25T08:51:06.819+00:00Lay Me Down & Fundy Bay<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lay Me Down</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two tracks this week, the first was recorded at last Wednesday's <a href="http://upinthegallerybath.tumblr.com/">Up in the Gallery</a> by <a href="http://www.facebook.com/jamesrileysongs">James Riley</a>:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The second was sung by Alan Farrow who was passing through for the recent <a href="http://mummersunconvention.wordpress.com/">Mummers Festival</a> last week:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />"I picked (the song) up off of a Lou Killen Lp/cassette.Cannot find notes from said recording but I remember there being a reference to a singer/sailor with some Dutch sounding name who sailed on a scooner from Ann Harbour, Maine to Nova Scotia and got becalmed in a fog bank for 17 days with a 30 foot tide to contend with along with the shoals and the other coastal traffic in the late 19th century. (Otherwise there was "no pressure!" )</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />You now know as much as I do!"</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With a little more searching I found the album that Alan referred to and a little more on the song though not much, have a look <a href="http://www.louiskillen.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/pages/biog2.html">here</a> and <a href="http://www.informatik.uni-hamburg.de/~zierke/louis.killen/songs/index.html">here</a>, the song was originally written by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gordon_Bok">Gordon Bok</a> and recorded to the album "<a href="http://www.allmusic.com/album/bay-of-fundy-mw0000269919">Bay of Fundy</a>". In his sleeve notes, Bok wrote:</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"</span>This is about a long and weary, windless trip from Maine around to Halifax on a little black schooner that seemed to move only by the slatting of her gear. We had a coal stove in her, and the foresail used to downdraft onto the charlie noble, turn the stack into an intake and the cabin into a chimney. So, with the coalgas and the wet, the offwatch was not much more comfortable than the deadwatch"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alan & Tim</span></div>
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All you Maine-men, proud and young,<br />When you run your easting down,<br />Don't go down to Fundy Bay,<br />She'll wear your time away.<br /><br />Fundy's long and Fundy's wide,<br />Fundy's fog and rain and <a href="http://www.wtv-zone.com/phyrst/audio/nfld/06/fundy.htm#">tide</a>,<br />Never see the sun or sky,<br />Just the green wave going by.<br /><br />Cape Sable's horn blows all day long;<br />Wonder why, wonder why.<br /><br />Oh, you know, I'd rather ride<br />The Grenfell Strait or the Breton tide,<br />Spend my days on the Labrador<br />And never see old Fundy's shore.<br />All my days on the Labrador<br />And never see old Fundy's shore.<br /><br />Cape Sable's horn blows all day long;<br />Wonder why, wonder why.<br /><br />Give her staysail, give her main<br />In the darkness and the rain,<br />I don't mind the wet and cold,<br />I just don't like the growing old.<br />I don't mind the wet and cold,<br />I just don't like the growing old.<br /><br />Cape Sable's horn blows all day long;<br />Wonder why, wonder why.<br /><br />East-by-North or East-North-East,<br />Give her what she steers the best;<br />I don't want the foggy wave<br />To be my far and lonely grave.<br />I don't want the foggy wave<br />To be my far and lonely grave.<br /><br />Cape Sable's horn blows all day long;<br />Wonder why, wonder why.<br /><br />Cape Breton's bells ring in the swells;<br />Ring for me, ring for me.</span></span>The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-51205767314087153272012-11-18T08:50:00.001+00:002012-11-18T08:50:36.289+00:00Reynardine<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F67745900%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-Od8fj&show_artwork=true&secret_url=true" width="100%"></iframe><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week's song is Rob's masterly retelling of the classic ballad:</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><br />This is one of my all time favourite songs, originally learned from one of my all time</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">favourite albums, Liege & Lief by Fairport Convention. Since I first heard Sandy</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Denny singing this, I must have heard a dozen or more different versions but hers tops</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">them all for me.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><br />Among those different versions are different interpretations. Sometimes Reynardine</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">is a handsome outlaw or sometimes a dashing young lord. It is usually a love song</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">or sometimes he is a magical sort of elvish type, or even a shape changer. Like most</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">great folk songs and stories it has prompted a wealth of academic analysis, and oceans</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of ink have been spilled over it. Start with <a href="http://mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=4260#577110">Mudcat</a>, and you can spend days following</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the links and reading the dissertations. To me though, the story is simple and dark,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">very dark, and words like "serial" and "killer" spring to mind. Bluebeard rather than</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Robin Hood.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I believe that Bert Lloyd is considered to be largely responsible for the Fairport</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">version, and if so I think it is one of his greatest works. I have hardly changed any</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of the lyrics, though I can't help but make one alteration: Sandy Denny sings that he</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">leads the young woman "...over the mountains", I prefer "...into the mountains", as I'm</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">not sure that she makes it out again.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><br />Rob</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One evening, as I rode by among the leaves so green<br />I overheard a young woman converse with Reynardine.<br />Her hair was black, her eyes were blue<br />her lips as red as wine<br />and he smiled to gaze upon her<br />did that sly bold Reynardine.<br /><br /><br />She said "Kind sir, be civil, my company forsake<br />for in my low opinion, I fear you are some rake."<br />"Oh no" he said "no rake am I<br />brought up in Venus' train<br />but I'm seeking for concealment<br />all along the lonesome plain."<br /><br /><br />"Your beauty so enticed me I could not pass it by,<br />and its with my gun I'll guard you all across the mountains high.<br />And if by chance you should look for me<br />in a house you'll not me find<br />for I'll be in my castle<br />you must enquire for Reynardine."<br /><br /><br />The sun went dark.<br />She followed him.<br />His teeth did brightly shine.<br />And he led her into the mountains,<br />did that sly bold Reynardine.</span>The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-58234975237344001202012-11-11T08:18:00.000+00:002012-11-11T08:18:21.462+00:00Martinmas Time<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F66925060%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-R26gb&show_artwork=true&secret_url=true" width="100%"></iframe><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well this year is full of grand coincidences!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"The feast of St. Martin falls upon this day though it is far better known here as remembrance Sunday. This song has little to do with the celebration as it tells of a young woman of herself outwitting a group of soldiers who are out after her maidenhead by little more than a bit of cross dressing!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I particularly love how this particular version of the story skips over the woman's distress in verse 2 and revels in her trickery later on in the song, particularly her brashness stepping closer and closer to the barracks. The final chase and cry compounds the soldiers efforts without making the lady looking sneaky: just smart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This recording is sung by Rose Lippard with me noodling behind. We, like most of the folk community were struck by Anne Briggs' singing of this, a version that she was given by Bert Lloyd that he in turn had compiled through <a href="http://www.informatik.uni-hamburg.de/~zierke/anne.briggs/songs/martinmastime.html">several different versions and tunes</a>"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tim</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It fell upon the Martinmas time, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />When the snow lay on the border <br />There came a troop of soldiers here <br />To take up their winter quarters.<br /><br />Ch: With me right fol-lay-dle li-dle ly-la da-dee-o <br />With me right fol-lay-dle li-dle lar-ry.<br /><br />They rode up and they rode down, and <br />They rode over the border. <br />There they met a fair pretty girl <br />And she was a farmer's daughter.<br /><br />Ch:<br /><br />They made her swear a solemn oath <br />and salt tear in her eye, oh, <br />That she would call at their quarter gates <br />When no-one did her spy, oh.<br /><br />Ch:<br /><br />So she goes to the barber shop <br />To the barber shop went soon, oh, <br />She's made them cut her fine yellow hair <br />As short as any dragoon, oh.<br /><br />Ch:<br /><br />Then she goes to the tailor shop <br />And dresses in soldier's clothes, oh, <br />A pair of pistols down her side <br />And a nice little boy was she, oh.<br /><br />Ch:<br /><br />When she comes to the quarter gates, <br />It's loud, loud she did call, oh, <br />"There comes a troop of soldiers here <br />And we must have lodgings all, oh!"<br /><br />Ch:<br /><br />The quartermaster he comes out <br />He gives her half a crown, oh, <br />"Go and find lodgings for yourself, <br />For here there is no room, oh."<br /><br />Ch:<br /><br />But she drew nearer to the gates <br />And louder did she call, oh: <br />"Room, room, you gentlemen, <br />We must have lodgings all, oh!"<br /><br />Ch:<br /><br />The quartermaster he comes out <br />He gives her eighteen pence, oh <br />"Go and find lodgings in the town <br />For tonight there comes a wench, oh."<br /><br />Ch:<br /><br />She's pulled the garters from he legs <br />The ribbons from her hair, oh, <br />She's tied them 'round the quarter gates <br />As a token she'd been there, oh.<br /><br />Ch:<br /><br />She drew a whistle from her side, <br />And blew it loud and shrill, oh <br />"You're all very free with your eighteen pence <br />But you're not for a girl at all, oh."<br /><br />Ch:<br /><br />And when they knew that it was her <br />They tried to overtake her. <br />She's clapped her spurs to the horse's side <br />And she's galloped home a maiden.<br /><br />Ch:</span>The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-53261656694654656002012-11-03T18:45:00.000+00:002012-11-04T07:11:57.001+00:00North Country Maid<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F65996724%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-vGacH&show_artwork=true&secret_url=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Despite being on the other side of the world, this week's song comes from Sue Harding:</span></div>
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"I learned this song from a guy called Terry. I learned a lot of my early repertoire from Terry who ran a folk session in a pub in Llanarthne in South Wales which is near to where I lived for five years, once upon a time. I love its long fluid melody lines which are delicious to sing and decorate and its evocative images of the natural world. It is a girl's song, both a little bit arch and knowing and at the same time with an intense emotional directness as it explores that old chestnut of homesickness and longing. I think I might sing it next week at my debut open mic in Al Ain Golf Club. I'm sorry I know so little about it's provenance. Someone once said it was big in Ireland but it doesn't sound at all Irish to me!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A North Country maid</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Down to London had strayed<br />Although with her nature<br />it did not agree<br />And she's wept and she's sighed <br />And she's wrung her hands and cried<br />How I wish once again<br />In the North I could be<br /><br />Where the oak and the ash<br />And the bonny ivy tree<br />Do all flourish and bloom<br />In my north country<br /><br />I wish I could be<br />In my north country<br />where the lads and the lasses <br />Are making thee hay<br />Where the bells they do ring <br />And the bonny birds do sing<br />And the meadows and maidens <br />Are pleasant and gay<br /><br />Chorus<br /><br />I bet if I please<br />I could marry with ease<br />For where bonny lasses are<br />Lovers will come<br />But the lad that I wed<br />Must be north country bred<br />And must carry me back <br />To my north country home<br /><br />Chorus</span>The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-2971256374741106612012-10-28T16:16:00.001+00:002012-10-28T16:16:13.247+00:00Sammy's Bar<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F64974676%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-JOKwU&show_artwork=true&secret_url=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's hard to know what
to say about <a href="http://www.independent.co.uk/news/obituaries/cyril-tawney-6147379.html">Cyril Tawney</a>, every new thing that I find out about him
makes him seem all the more incredible. In my most recent
performances I have been touching closely on the subject of honesty
in folk song; honesty in song, in performance and in subject. It may
seem obvious, trite or naive to say that, without a sense of honesty,
folk music cannot survive but I feel it is an often overlooked
subject in the many debates happening about folk music and its
current state.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Whenever I listen to
Cyril's voice and his music I understand that he really lived the
events of which he sung, his travels around the globe aboard ship and
the subsequent experiences have lead to songs that come across as raw
and beautifully true despite them being fictional tales.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This song is a prime
example of that; Sammy's bar was a real place, Cyril was involved in
a car crash, the call of 'Hey, the last boat's a-leaving' and 'Haul
away the </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">daighsoe</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">' reflect the final call for shipmates to get back to
the ship at the end of a night ashore, failure to do so would mean
either deserting or finding a far more expensive way back to the
craft. The presentation of this song as a shanty, a work song, seems
to be contradictory to a man who is simply giving up after his
heart's broken first by a girl and then by her death and
counterpoints his delusion in the need to work, to afford the fast
car and impress the girls and further emphasises the overall effect.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This recording came
just after Rosie Upton had told me that Cyril had actually drunk in
The Star Inn in the 70's in between travelling to gigs as part of a
Bath-wide pub crawl. I was so taken aback by the fact that this man
had drunk (and been drunk) in the pub that our session takes place
that I felt moved to sing this song in response. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tim</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I went down to Sammy's Bar </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Hey, the last boat's a'leavin <br />By the shore at Pieta <br />Haul away the daighsoe<br /><br />And my real love, she was there <br />There was sand all in her hair<br /><br />How did sand get in your hair <br />Darling Johnny put it there<br /><br />He's a better man by far <br />Because he's got a Yankee car<br /><br />I went out from Sammy's Bar <br />To hire a Yankee car<br /><br />Fourteen days I drank no wine <br />Saving for that love of mine<br /><br />Then one day in Paula square <br />At a paper I did stare<br /><br />Johnny tried a hairpin bend <br />For my love, it was the end<br /><br />Going back to Sammy's Bar <br />I don't need no Yankee car</span>The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-77085990357738880472012-10-21T07:39:00.000+01:002012-10-21T08:02:34.775+01:00The Final Trawl & British Man O' War<b><u><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Final Trawl.</span></u></b><br />
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This first song is sung by Dave Stenton who came all the way from Oxford to join us:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"This song was written by Archie Fisher in 1979, after the Cod Wars with Iceland virtually completed the decimation of the British fishing industry. Shona MacMillan, in the notes to her compilation 'People and Songs of the Sea" [Greentrax CDTRAX 338, 2009], says: "In 1904, 143 boats, mostly herring drifters, were registered to Port Seton [on the Firth of Forth] and fishwives sold fish at the harbour. Today, about a dozen boats are locally owned and … fishing for prawns.'</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I got the song from Roy Palmer’s "Boxing the Compass", pp. 306-307. Here are the words I sing: the "folk process" seems to have changed them a little! </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The only additional information I’ve got (also from Palmer) is that the Skerry Rock which Archie had in mind is the one that lies offshore between Peterhead and Aberdeen, and that a cran is 28st (392lb): so not the largest catch in the world."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dave</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s been three long years since we made her pay <br />sing Haul Away My Laddie O <br />and we can’t get by on the subsidy <br />and sing Haul Away My Laddie O.<br /><br />So let’s heave away for the final trawl <br />it’s an easy pull for the catch is small.<br /><br />Then we’ll stow the gear lads and batten down <br />and I’ll take the wheel lads and turn her round.<br /><br />And she’ll join the "Venture" and the "Morning Star" <br />riding high and empty beyond the bar.<br /><br />For I’d rather beach her on the Skerry Rock <br />than to see her torched in the breaker’s dock.<br /><br />And it’s when I die you can stow me down <br />in her rusty old hold where the breakers sound.<br /><br />Then we’ll find the Haven and the Fiddler’s Green <br />where the grub is good and the bunks are clean.<br /><br />Well, I’ve worked the fishing now, boy and man <br />but the final trawl scarcely makes a cran.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><u>British Man O' War</u></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To celebrate 3 years of the session running I decided to start a new folk night in Bath at the <a href="http://www.stjameswinevaults.co.uk/">St James Wine Vaults</a> called <a href="http://www.facebook.com/UpInTheGallery">Up in the Gallery</a>. Held on the third Wednesday of each month it's aim is to bring some of the best young and emerging talent performing under the banner of folk today. Our first night was last Wednesday with the excellent <a href="http://www.jamesfindlay.co.uk/">James Findlay</a>. He gave a cracking performance and ended with this song which is available on his first album '<a href="http://www.jamesfindlay.co.uk/#!recordings/ct26">As I Carelessly did Stray</a>' from which this recording is taken.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tim<br /><br />It was down in yonder valley I carelessly did stray; <br />There I beheld a fair young damsel and a sailor gay. <br />He said, "My lovely Susan, I'm soon to leave the shore, <br />I'm sailing off to China a British man of war."<br /><br />Ch: A Bristish man of war, a British man of war <br />I'm sailing off to China on a British man of war<br /><br />Susan fell a weeping. "Oh sailor," she did say, <br />"How can you be so venturesome to throw your life away! <br />For it's when that I am twenty-one I shall receive my store; <br />Stay at home, don't venture on a British man of war."<br /><br />Ch<br /><br />"Oh, Susan, lovely Susan, the truth to you I'll tell, <br />The Chinese have insulted us, old England knows it well. <br />I may be crowned with laurels, so like a jolly tar, <br />I'll face the walls of China on a British man of war."<br /><br />Ch<br /><br />"Oh how can you be so venturesome as to face the proud Chinese, <br />For they will prove as treacherous as any Portuguese, <br />And by some deadly dagger you shall receive a scar, <br />So stay at home don't venture on a British man of war."<br /><br />Ch<br /><br />"Oh, Susan, lovely Susan, the time will quickly pass, <br />You come down to the ferryhouse to take a parting glass; <br />For my shipmates they are waiting to sail me far from the shore, <br />I'm sailing off to China on a British man of war."<br /><br />Ch<br /><br />The sailor took his handkerchief and tore it fair in two, <br />You keep half of me my love and I'll keep half of you <br />For when I am in battle, the cannons loudly roar, <br />I'll fight for fame and Susan in a British man of war."<br /><br />Ch<br /><br />It was down in yonder valley I carelessly did stray; <br />There I beheld a fair young damsel and a sailor gay. <br />He said, "My lovely Susan, I'm soon to leave the shore, <br />I'm sailing off to China a British man of war."<br /><br />Ch</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/UpInTheGallery">Help us to bring more folk music to Bath;</a></span><br />
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The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-70279117086555922382012-10-14T13:39:00.001+01:002012-10-14T13:39:34.842+01:00Townhouse Girl<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F63265673%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-1858T&show_artwork=true&secret_url=true" width="100%"></iframe><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week's song is an unreleased track by <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Ali-George/231991256839057">Ali George</a>:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"The concept of Townhouse Girl developed from a lyric that had been in my mind for a week or so (the first line of the song). I knew I wanted to expand the work and as soon as a melody emerged I got to work writing the rest... I also knew the narrator wasn't me, I found it interesting writing from someone else's perspective and that's a style of writing I've continued over the past year."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ali</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Townhouse Girl</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Won't you treat me like a friend</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I feel like a fool, I gave all my heart to you</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Got nothing back</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Townhouse Girl</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Won't you open up the door</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Out in the cold, with nowhere to go</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Townhouse Girl</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">November wind,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">won't you ease off again</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It cuts straight through my coat</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">now I'm cold as a ghost</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She's locked up safe inside</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With her fire burning bright</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm down here on the street</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And you're blowing my heart apart</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">November wind,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Won't you ease off again</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It cuts straight through my coat</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now I'm cold as a ghost</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She's locked up safe inside</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With her fire burning bright</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm down here on the street</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And you're blowing my heart apart</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Townhouse Girl</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Won't you treat me like a friend</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I feel like a fool, I gave all my heart to you</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Got nothing back</span><br />
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The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-45185368120100941482012-10-07T07:49:00.000+01:002012-10-08T16:07:59.116+01:00The Butcher Boy<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F62449770%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-M6XLU&show_artwork=true&secret_url=true" width="100%"></iframe><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><br />This week's song is from Rosie Upton who came to her first session a couple of weeks ago::<br /><br />"I've always loved ballads, hearing the story unfold often in a horrific almost cinematic form, this is especially so in murder ballads. I've wondered what the truth might be behind these stories. Asking myself whether the story is based on a myth or legend carried down over the centuries or based on more recent historical fact. Are they the oral tradition's equivalent of a crime or historical novel that is simply 'a good read' or merely a cautionary tale? It has always fascinated and appalled me that women come off particularly badly in ballads, nearly always the victim in a man's world, but regrettably that has been the reality for the greater part of history. Something feminism sought to redress and I am saddened that many young people today have disregarded and misunderstood the intention of the women's movement. I think that is why ballads, and more especially murder ballads, strike such a chord with me. Even from an early age I loved telling stories, as a teenager I enjoyed reading the Nordic sagas and I loved the theatricality of the ballad tradition long before I became a singer.<br /><br />I already sang two similar songs within the same group of ballads - The Oxford Girl and Joseph Taylor's Worcester City - when I first heard the late Isabel Sutherland sing The Butcher Boy at a Sidmouth Festival back in the 1970s. The power of the song really hit me and the way she sang it really brought the story to life - so with some trepidation I asked her if she would mind if I sang it and she agreed. I've been singing it for more than 30 years and I still find it chilling. It is a powerful song which tells everything about the abusive power that a man can wield over a woman. As with most ballads it doesn't actually say why he killed her, she like so many in similar situations, has no voice. It is left for the listener to imagine. Did he rape her, was she pregnant, was it revenge, or was he simply a psychopath? We don't know but it ends with some redemption and retribution with the murderer hanged. Personally, I would have preferred him to be imprisoned in solitary confinement for the remainder of his miserable life. There is little justice for the murdered woman of whom we learn so little. The story has been copied so many times in detective fiction from Agatha Christie's crime novels to Colin Dexter's Inspector Morse and the dozens of television series they have spawned. Why do we relish such appalling stories.......? I really don't know the answer."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rosie</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My parents gave me learning, good learning they gave to me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For they sent me to a butcher's shop a butcher boy to be</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's there I met sweet Mary Ann with the dark and the rovin' eye</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I promised I would marry her in the month of sweet July</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I went down to her mother's house 'tween the hours of eight and nine</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I asked her for to walk with him down by the foaming brine</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Down by the foaming brine we'll go, down by the foaming brine</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now that won't be a pleasant walk, down by the foaming brine</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We walked it east and we walked west and we walked it all alone</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Till he took a knife from out me breast and he stabbed her to the ground</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She fell down on her bended knee and for mercy she did cry</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Oh Willie dear, don't murder me, I'm not prepared to die"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I took her by her lily-white hands and I dragged her to the brim</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And with a mighty downward push I pushed her fair body in</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I went back to his mother's house 'tween the hours of twelve and one</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And little, little did she think what her own poor son had done</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I asked her for a handkerchief to tie around my hair</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I asked her for some candlelight to to light me up the stairs</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No rest, no rest did the young man get, no rest he could not find</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For he thought he saw the gates of hell approaching his bedside</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And that murder it was soon found out and the gallows were his doom</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the murdering of sweet Mary Ann who lies where the roses bloom</span></div>
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The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-74484192689466764792012-09-30T00:09:00.000+01:002012-10-01T10:08:01.215+01:00Too Good to Burn<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F61579271%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-TS6LU&show_artwork=true&secret_url=true" width="100%"></iframe><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week's song is based on a poem by Brendan Hamley:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Musician and poet Brendan Hamley has written verse online under the pseudonym of <a href="http://stonepoem.com/too-good-to-burn-v2/nature/">Stonepoem</a> since the early days of the internet. In 2004 he created one of the web's first poetry blogs for the purposes of publishing a poem a day, everyday for a year. <br /><br />Too Good to Burn was written after an evening of campfires, kinship and song beneath the magnificent <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uffington_White_Horse">3,000 year old White Horse</a> and Downland Neolithic site at Uffington, Oxfordshire. "At the end of the night, whilst tending the dying flames and watching the embers flicker and rise into the night sky, It felt like we were part of a tradition stretching back hundreds if not thousands of years. It is a poem about being called out to by unknown ancestors and answering them through fire and song. Tim's interpretation of the spirit of this, is uncanny. It was written in a metre and with folk song in mind, and has been patiently waiting to be sung by the right person for several years"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Brendan & Tim</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Below the moon at Uffington<br />between the folds of chalkhill gown,<br />we sit beneath the White Horse stars,<br />see flames and sing this song.<br /><br />O’ Stars and embers dance your crown<br />as woodsmoke turns the hour’s dust,<br />and as we do these things we must,<br />this night it shall be ours<br /><br />Above, see nervous lanterns rise<br />like strange birds from another time,<br />we wait below this all tonight,<br />and contemplate the flow.<br /><br />Stars and embers dance your crown<br />as woodsmoke turns the hour’s dust,<br />and as we do these things we must,<br />we know, this night is ours.<br /><br />Below the moon at Uffington<br />we sing beneath your ancient night<br />we contemplate the eventide<br />and tell of White Horse downs.<br /><br />So stars and embers raise your crown,<br />as woodsmoke turns, the hours must -<br />we hold our simple truth to trust,<br />the night indeed is ours.<br /><br />Now sit, and sing with us.</span><br />
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The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-20526297868886866682012-09-23T07:57:00.001+01:002012-09-23T08:04:08.279+01:00Ballad of Cursed Anna<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F60317961%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-DeImi&show_artwork=true&secret_url=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week's piece of psychoanalysis is sung by Rob Winder:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"This song is not a traditional song, but it has got woods in it, and a witch, so that’s alright then.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was written by Jonathon Kelly, and appears on his album “Twice Around the House” (1972) </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">along with such other gems as “Sligo Fair” and “Madeleine. Over the years, he has performed </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">with, or been associated with many great artists, ranging from Eric Clapton, through the Bee </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gees, Pink Floyd to Queen. I believe that Tommy Steele once performed a version of the Ballad </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of the Cursed Anna on TV.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I love the rhythms of this song, but, as with all great ballads it is the storyline which grabs me </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">most. It is stark and simple, yet at the same time it resonates with so much in the way of folklore </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and fairy tale motifs. All around the world you will find tales of scary woods that contain magical </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">or dangerous creatures and places – Hansel & Gretel’s gingerbread house, Baba Yaga’s </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">house of bones, even Teddy Bears’ picnics, all must be approached with caution – and Kelly’s </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">woodland is no different. The protagonist here throws caution to the winds, and pays a heavy </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">price.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He also fits the picture of Jung’s archetype of The Innocent, who desires paradise / home, is happy, is naive, and is something of a romantic or dreamer. Jung also ascribes to The</span> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Innocent </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">a fear of being punished for doing something bad or wrong, and we are told right at the outset </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">that our man has just been released from prison, but doesn't know why he was there. The song </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ends with him being sentenced to a kind of imprisonment from which he may never be freed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anna is of course a succubus, the immortal seductress who gains her power by draining men of </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">their souls. She is a Siren, she is Circe, she is Delilah. Like all good myths, it is a never ending </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">story: the cycle of the foolish young man, gaining experience then becoming the wise but </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ignored old man, goes on forever, each man in turn playing the portrait to Anna’s Dorian Grey. I </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">have no idea whether Jonathon Kelly drew on any kind of personal experience when writing </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">it, but I suspect that at some level many men will relate to this song.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So much for psychobabble, just enjoy the song."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rob</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><br />As I was walking homeward in the early morning light <br />Leaving far behind the prison where I'd spent the night <br />With no idea of what I'd done or why they'd punished me <br />But feeling nonetheless relieved and grateful to be free.<br /><br />My path led through a woodland far behind a rusted gate <br />I knew it was a shortcut if I kept my walking straight <br />But then, like out of nowhere, this old wizened man appeared <br />Holding high his one hand while the other stroked his beard.<br /><br />Ch: "Beware the cursed Anna's stare", this warning did he bring <br />"No-one makes it through this wood, going out as they came in!"<br /><br />"But a change is what I'm looking for", I told the sad old man <br />And bidding him a last farewell into the wood I ran <br />I ran till I came to the river where I stopped to bathe my feet <br />And that is where I smelled her perfume delicate and sweet.<br /><br />I stood up and I turned around and there in front of me <br />Stood a beautiful woman who simply stared at me <br />And then I knew it was all true what this old man had advised <br />"You must be Anna", I said, as I looked into her eyes.<br /><br />Ch:<br /><br />And then we came together in a passionate embrace <br />I felt my body weaken and my heart begin to race <br />And when at last the kissing stopped I saw to my alarm <br />This woman had turned into a young girl in my arms.<br /><br />I heard her childish laughter as she vanished through the trees <br />I turned back to the river, my reflection for to see <br />And down there in the water saw exactly as I feared <br />To my horror I'd turned into an old man with a beard.<br /><br />For seven long years I've waited by this gate, wishing that I could die <br />But that can never happen till some other young man comes by <br />I know that I must warn him to go round some other way <br />But hope that, like most men of his age, he won't believe what old men say.<br /><br />Ch:</span><br />
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The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-51594964461128524002012-09-16T10:41:00.000+01:002012-09-16T17:56:06.508+01:00Angel Ridge<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F59708404%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-ll3AL&show_artwork=true&secret_url=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week's song is another beautifully penned number from Sue Harding:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Angel Ridge is a shiny new housing
estate in Swindon that I'd pass every day on my way to work. I'd look
at the sign pointing smartly up the hill and wonder what might happen
to a soul in a place with such a resonant name. Later as I tried to
craft lyrics for songs in the Americana style I listened to the folk
singers of the last century, to bluegrass and gospel, early rock and
roll and the blues. Angel Ridge had to be a love song but when I was
done it had also soaked up some of the religious imagery and
redemptive themes of the music I was listening to. I tried to keep
the language simple, to re use some of the stock phrases and to
embrace the naivety and unexpected quality of the juxtaposition of
ideas and images that I so love in mountain music. Musically, the
guitar part with its swinging base was a challenge for me but I
wanted something old timey, up-beat and joyous and for the same
reason I wanted the piece to have room for lots of harmonies and to
build at the end in a way that lifts the heart as should a journey to
Angel Ridge. Later Lou Baxter and I named our duo after the song and
recorded it with full harmonies and a guitar solo.
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sue</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sue has been a regular attender of the session for a long time and is sadly leaving us to work in Abu Dhabi. We all wish her the very best... maybe we could do a skype session!?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Left my old ways on the bus</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Headed out of town</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Passed the pines and the old saw mill</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Where we used to hang around</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Walked a while beside the creek</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Down by Baker's bridge</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Took the steep old timer's trail</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Up to Angel Ridge</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My darling sent a message</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The warmest sweetest sound</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He said meet me up on Angel Ridge</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To see the sun go down.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My baby's sweet as honey</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And gentle as a dove</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gonna tell him I'm sorry
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And offer him my love.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm dreaming by the river</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Down by Baker's Bridge</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Heading on up like a feather</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Onto Angel Ridge.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've been reckless, I've been wild</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lord knows I've been gone</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Running like a wayward child</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With my red shoes on</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My baby's like a tiger</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And patient as a stone</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gonna take me as I am</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I can come on home</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm running to that river</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Down by baker's bridge</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gonna see my sweet baby</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Up on Angel Ridge</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'll find the warmest surest thing</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have ever found</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Waiting up on Angel ridge</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To see the sun go down</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I have his forgiveness</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And he has sure got mine</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We'll sleep out on a blanket</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Underneath the pines</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm running to that river</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And over Baker's bridge</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gonna find my sweet sweet love</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Up on Angel Ridge</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-63916933498540018782012-09-09T08:53:00.000+01:002012-09-14T14:21:49.201+01:00Boys of Bedlam<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F59219476&show_artwork=true" width="100%"></iframe><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week's song is sung by Matt Bragg:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Versions of “Boys of Bedlam” have been around since at least the Sixteenth Century. The lyrics refer to “Tom O’Bedlam”, an expression used to describe mentally ill beggars: “Bedlam” being a reference to Bethlem Royal Hospital in London, the world's first and oldest institution to specialise in mental illnesses (a hospital bearing the name still treats mental health patients to this day). Indeed the character “Mad Maudlin” refers to Mary Magdalene Hospital, then the corresponding institution for female patients. The version I perform is actually more of an “answer song” to the original poem (variously “Mad Maudlin’s Search” or “Bedlam Boys”), although there are, typically, no “definitive” renderings and the various versions all blur into one another.<br /><br />I first came across the song, a vivid evocation of madness, from seeing the great Maddy Prior perform it in support of her album “Year” (1993)<a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fspoti.fi%2FRSVemy&h=DAQGbg5q2&s=1">http://spoti.fi/RSVemy</a> . This then led me back to the Martin Carthy-led version that appears on the second Steeleye Span album “Please to See the King” (1971) <a href="http://spoti.fi/OFuzVM">http://spoti.fi/OFuzVM</a> . I basically kept their lyrics and melody which are taken from the multi-volume “Wit and Mirth, or Pills to Purge Melancholy” by Thomas d'Urfey (published between 1698 and 1720), the earliest printed version of the song. I worked the guitar arrangement up from this in DADGAD tuning, the key shifting between D minor and D major.<br /><br />Boys of Bedlam<br /><br />For to see Mad Tom of Bedlam,<br />Ten thousand miles I've traveled.<br />Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes,<br />For to save her shoes from gravel<br /><br />Still I sing bonny boys, bonny mad boys<br />Bedlam boys are bonny<br />For they all go bare and they live by the air<br />And they want no drink or money</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />I went down to Satan's kitchen<br />To get me food one morning<br />And there I got souls piping hot<br />All on the spit a-turning.<br /><br />Still I sing… etc<br /><br />My staff has murdered giants<br />My bag a long knife carries<br />To cut mince pies from children's thighs<br />For which to feed the fairies.<br /><br />Still I sing… etc<br /><br /><br />And when that I have murdered<br />The man in the moon to a powder<br />His staff I'll break and his dog I'll shake<br />And there'll howl no demon louder<br /><br />Still I sing… etc<br /><br />For to see Mad Tom of Bedlam,<br />Ten thousand years I've traveled.<br />Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes,<br />For to save her shoes from gravel<br /><br />Still I sing… etc</span>
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The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-16813015208484479522012-09-02T10:22:00.001+01:002012-09-03T11:32:45.098+01:00The King's Song<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F58418621&show_artwork=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Another <a href="http://asundaysong.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/pace-egging.html">calling on song</a>
this week, this was sung by <a href="http://soundcloud.com/rexrothdaughter">Rose</a> at a session a little while ago and
I took the chance of recording it again for a festival we were
performing at. This song is taken from "The Hunton sword-dance' and would introduce the characters for the play, I
can, however, find little information on the dance and play itself except that the song was collected from Kitt Wells by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maud_Karpeles">Maud Karpeles</a> and published in the EDFSS Journal in 1928. This version was learned from an old <a href="http://www.informatik.uni-hamburg.de/~zierke/folk/records/peteandchriscoe.html">Pete and Chris Coe recording entitled 'Out of Season, Out of Rhyme'</a>.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tim</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Make us room for we are
a-coming</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All for to let you
understand</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What and of late we
have been a-doing</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Since we left your
foreign land</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The first to come in it
is Lord Nelson</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He is the hero of this
isle</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He that has won the
garland of victory</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the battle of the
Nile</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next to come in is
the Duke of Wellington</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He that has fought his
passage through</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He that has won the
garland of victory</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On the plains of
Waterloo</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next to come in is
Tom the tinker</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All you kettles he will
mend</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So if you dare to let
him venture</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tom will treat you as a
friend</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next to come in is
the highlander laddie</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He's got ships all on
the main</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Merchandise of every
description</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Since he's returning
home again</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The last to some in is
Dick the cobbler</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He's got little for to
lose</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But for a poor and
ragged waistcoat</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And a pair of clouted
shoes</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Make us room for we are
a-coming</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All for to let you
understand</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What and of late we
have been a-doing</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Since we left your
foreign land</span></div>
The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-34993836750235109122012-08-26T23:06:00.000+01:002012-08-27T09:10:32.680+01:00Sam Hall<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F57342787%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-yRBo0&show_artwork=true&secret_url=true" width="100%"></iframe><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />A little while ago we had the excellent <a href="http://sambrookes.wordpress.com/">Sam Brookes</a> 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 <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tyburn,_London">Tyburn</a>. Over the ensuing years the song has produced <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lItc52PBOAE">numerous offspring</a> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pdfkdVmmLeA">some of which</a> 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 '<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z-j4SKhclSg">Admiral Benbow</a>' and posits that as Jack was hung in 1701 and Benbow died in 1702, the latter song was written to fit the former tune.<br /><br />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 '<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6340100-the-spectacle-of-the-scaffold">Spectacle of the Scaffold</a>' 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 <a href="http://www.sparknotes.com/philosophy/disciplinepunish/section1.rhtml">this link</a>. Either way, Sam (or Jack) has, over time, presented many different views on the criminal and his reflection on his actions.<br /><br />Tim<br /><br />For my name is Sam Hall, Chimney Sweep, Chimney Sweep </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For my name is Sam Hall, Chimney Sweep </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For my name is Sam Hall,
And I've robbed both big and small<br />Now my neck must pay for all when I die, when I die<br />Oh my neck must pay for all when I die, when I die</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
I've just twenty pounds In store That's not all, Thats not all ,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've just twenty pounds In store, That's not all</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've just twenty pounds In store,
And I'll rob for tweny more </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh the rich must help the poor so must I, so must I </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh the rich must help the poor so must I </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now I killed a man they said, so they said, so they said </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh I killed a man they said, so they said </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh I killed a man they said bashed in his bloody head </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh the rich must help the poor so must I, so must I </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh the rich must help the poor so must I</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ah They took me to Cooch Hill In a cart, in a cart</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ah They took me to Cooch Hill In a cart </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ah They took me to Cooch Hill and I stopped to make me will</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh The best of friends must part so must I, so must I </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh The best of friends must part so must I </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Up the ladder I did Grope that's no joke, thats no joke, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Up the ladder I did Grope that's no joke </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Up the ladder I did Grope and the hangman pulled the rope </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> And ne're a word I spoke, tumblin' down, tumblin' down </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And ne're a word I spoke, tumblin' down<br /><br />For my name is Sam Hall, Chimney Sweep, Chimney Sweep </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For my name is Sam Hall, Chimney Sweep </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For my name is Sam Hall,
And I've robbed both big and small<br />Now my neck did pay for all when I die, when I die<br />Oh my neck did pay for all when I die, when I die<br /></span><br />
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<pre style="font-size: 15px;"><pre style="font-size: 15px;"></pre>
</pre>
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The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-30276255086159690852012-08-19T20:34:00.000+01:002012-08-20T09:23:53.916+01:00Bath Folk Festival Special part 2 of 2<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fly Away</span></b><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This first track is by <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Lazibyrd/101668393259866">Lazibyrd</a>, 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!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why does gravity keep pulling me down? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do I really need my feet on the ground? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And my head keeps spinning round and round</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Is it wrong to want to reach the sky </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Feel frustrated and I don't know why </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Want to hide and yet I know I'll die</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ch: I just want to fly, I just want to fly, I just want to fly away</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I just want to be the apple's eye </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Straight and sober but I'm feeling high </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All my dreams come true if I just try</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why does gravity keep pulling me down...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ch:</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I was a Cowgirl</span></b></div>
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<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://soundcloud.com/angel-ridge">Angel Ridge</a> finished their set today at the Wine Vaults with this take on the traditional American song '<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l4sQeo8sUyE">When I was a Cowboy</a>'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I was a cowgirl, way out on the Western Plains, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I was a cowgirl, way out on the Western Plains, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I made half a million pullin’ the buffalo reins.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">refrain: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Coma-cow-cow, coma-cow-cow, yicky-yicky-yea.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What was the greatest battle here on the Western plains </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When we an’ a bunch o’ cowgirls run into Jesse James</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When me an’ a bunch o’ cowboys run into Jesse James. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">De bullets was a-flyin’ jus’ like a shower of rain.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What was the greatest battle ever on Bunker Hill </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When we an’ a bunch o’ cowgirls run into Buffalo Bill</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When me an’ a bunch o’ cowgirls run into Buffalo Bill</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We lassoed his ass and left him up on Bunker Hill</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maid on the Shore</span></b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I finished my time at the Bath Folk Week with <a href="http://www.martinvogwell.co.uk/">Martin Vogwell</a>, we met upon a shared billing a while ago and he has become a good friend since. Here is his lovely version of the<a href="http://www.informatik.uni-hamburg.de/~zierke/martin.carthy/songs/fairmaidontheshore.html"> British Ballad </a>that tells the tale of clever lass outwitting, quite frankly, very dull-witted sailors</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh there was a sea captain who ploughed the salt seas<br />And the weather was pleasant and clear-o<br />And a beautiful maiden he chanced for to spy<br />She was sitting alone on that rocky old shore<br />She was sitting alone by the shore<br /><br />So the sailors did hoist out a very long boat<br />And it's off for the shore they did steer-o,<br />Saying, “Ma'am if you please will you enter on board<br />To view a fine cargo of costly ware,<br />To view a fine cargo of ware.”<br /><br />And when they've arrived alongside of the ship<br />Oh the captain he ordered a chair-o<br />Saying, “First you will lie in my arms this night<br />And then I'll hand you to my jolly crew,<br />Then I'll hand you to my jolly crew.”<br /><br />So she sat herself down in the stern of the ship<br />And the weather was pleasant and clear-o<br />And she sung so neat, so sweet and complete,<br />She sung the sailors and captain right off to sleep,<br />She sung sailors and captain to sleep.<br /><br />Well she's robbed them of silver, she's robbed them of gold,<br />And she's plundered their bright costly ware-o.<br />And the captain's bright sword she's took for an oar<br />And she's sailed away for that rocky old shore,<br />And she's sailed away for the shore.<br /><br />“Oh were my men drunk or were my men mad<br />Or were my men drowned in care-o<br />That they let her escape that made us so sad?<br />And the sailors all wish that she was there-o<br />Oh the sailors all with she was there<br /><br />Well the captain he's gone to the stern of the boat<br />And away from the shore they sail-o<br />She saluted the captain and all of the crew<br />Saying "I'm a maid on the shore once more<br />I'm a maid on the shore once more.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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<br /><br />Tim</span></div>
The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-71532382042396882042012-08-19T08:28:00.000+01:002012-08-19T08:28:56.890+01:00Bath Folk Festival Special part 1 of 2<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I'm sick</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week has been the <a href="http://bathfolkfestival.org/">Bath Folk Festival</a> and as such I decided to track down some of my favourite performers around the city and record some of their tracks.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On Friday night I caught up with <a href="http://soundcloud.com/dexter-selboy">Dave Selby</a> after his gig with Gren Bartley (I dropped in to join Gren playing last week's song '<a href="http://asundaysong.blogspot.co.uk/2012/08/the-furriers-lament-and-midnight-melody.html">Midnight melody</a>'). Dave is a fantastic lyric writer and editor of the <a href="http://www.thebathburp.co.uk/">Bath Burp</a>, 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"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm sick, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've been treading water so long </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My eyes are filled with salt and my lungs are gone </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Your hands held me up and kept me breathing </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now it's time to fade and the devil got even</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dear friends I apologise </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I didn't plan on turning worthless in my own eyes </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you remember me before I wandered off please </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Erase the memories you made since I was lost</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Two Tunes</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On Saturday, just before my gig at the Widcombe Social Club, I was hanging out with <a href="http://jonhicks.net/">Jon Hicks</a>, 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!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Salty Water</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A real highlight for me this one, <a href="http://www.bethporter.co.uk/">Beth Porter</a> 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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I lay, I lay, I lay</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My back won't leave the floor</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And the thoughts won't leave my mind</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They're stuck just like before</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ch: So go and fetch the doctor</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Go and fetch my man</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Give me salty water</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lift me if you can</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I cried, I cried, I cried</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No one came to see</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And the pool is getting wide</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Please come set me free</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ch:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I died, I died, I died</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That's ok with me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I left my family behind</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They never came for me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ch:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Part two will come later this afternoon...</span>The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-25932999652087896552012-08-12T13:46:00.000+01:002012-08-15T18:28:17.724+01:00The Furrier's Lament and Midnight Melody<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Furrier's Lament</b></span><br />
<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F56046123&show_artwork=true" width="100%"></iframe><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm in Broadstairs this weekend at the <a href="http://www.broadstairsfolkweek.org.uk/">Folk Festival</a> and met Chris Rusbridge an excellent singer and performer with <a href="http://applesinlondon.wordpress.com/about/">Apple of my Eye</a>. 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: <br /> <br />"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" <br /> <br />Ch: Oh bring the rags <br />Oh bring me the wood <br />Oh bring me the light if you'll darling <br />My purpose is good <br /> <br />I brought home furs that I caught in the woods <br />I wrapped us so warmly and well <br />And what was left over I took it in armfuls <br />And baskets to market to sell <br />And in the evening we roasted the nuts that you'd gathered <br />And you got out your violin <br />Friends would come over and we'd sit and laugh <br />But after they'd left <br />The sadness set in <br /><br /> Ch: <br /> </span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My purpose is not to cause injury darling <br />My purpose is not to cause pain <br />But I know that you know that I mean when I say <br />That I won't start over again <br />And in the evening we roasted the nuts that you'd gathered <br />And you got out your violin <br />Your friends would come over and we'd sit and laugh <br />But after they'd left <br />The sadness set in <br /><br /> Ch: <br /><br /> It was on Sunday evening when I'd finished working <br />I stopped in the pub for a beer <br />The landlord's son was telling some wild story <br />And I went over to hear <br />How in days long gone past they would light up the bonfire <br />To warn all the boats from the shore <br />And I thought of you all alone in the dark <br />And I'm sorry my darling <br />I wanted more <br /> <br />Ch: <br /><br /> This house on the hill for too many years has silently stood</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Midnight Melody</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Later on I met up with <a href="http://www.grenbartley.com/Home.html">Gren Bartley</a>, 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 <a href="http://soundcloud.com/gren-bartley/sets/sketches-free-download/">Soundcloud page</a>:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"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!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tim</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We also videoed the piece as well as some of the... creative process! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I coveted the morning's broken spell <br />Let the chorus sing you its truths <br />Too long I've missed the sky <br />That brings the first light <br />La de la...<br /><br />The rug was pulled from under the feet of the night <br />Sending it right back home <br />This midnight melody <br />Does not belong to me <br />La de la...<br /><br />Ch: The breeze that swept from overseas <br />Howled in empty bottles of beer <br />Well, they sang all night <br />Love you should have heard them sing<br /><br />The road was kind of dusty I couldn't walk <br />Half as tall as I'd have liked <br />The stars were kinder to my skin <br />Then the sun could ever have been <br />la de la...<br /><br />Perhaps I'll break the back of the journey, I'm hitching a lift <br />Some midnight shift humming I'm home <br />Has there been something going on <br />I'm entirely separate from? <br />La de la...<br /><br />Ch:</span></div>
The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-26789641110584173872012-08-05T10:29:00.003+01:002012-08-05T10:29:56.434+01:00Ye Banks and Braes o' Bonnie Doon<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F55252609&show_artwork=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Another new member of the group, Kristina, sings this beautiful song;<br /><br />"</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Kristina</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon, <br />How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair? <br />How can ye chant, ye little birds, <br />And I sae weary fu' o' care! <br />Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird, <br />That wantons thro' the flowering thorn: <br />Thou minds me o' departed joys, <br />Departed never to return.<br /><br />Aft hae I rov'd by Bonie Doon, <br />To see the rose and woodbine twine: <br />And ilka bird sang o' its Luve, <br />And fondly sae did I o' mine; <br />Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, <br />Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree! <br />And may fause Luver staw my rose, <br />But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.</span>The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-56824615207838501692012-07-29T00:02:00.002+01:002012-07-29T08:53:46.175+01:00When I Come Home<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F54427810&show_artwork=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />This week a cracking song by <a href="http://www.concertina.info/cnahome.html">Chris and Anne</a> that really captures the spirit of returning home. On their CD 'Peaceful Harbour' they write:<br /><br />"Chris wrote one and a half verses of this song. We sometimes have a competition for the audience to guess which (clue: sex and booze)."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Chris and Anne<br /><br />Ch: When I come home, when I come home again <br />Sweet are the songs I'll be singing <br />When I come home, when I come home again <br />Deep is the love I'll be bringing<br /><br />Tall are the trees by the riverside <br />Bright is the sun on the water <br />Peaceful and still is the countryside <br />Where we can stay forever<br /><br />Ch:<br /><br />Deep is the lake by the mountainside <br />Sweet is the scent of the flowers <br />We'll walk together hand in hand <br />Through gorse and heather for hours<br /><br />Ch:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Down in the valley the village lies <br />Rosy and red in the sunset <br />Cosy the light in the window shines <br />Welcoming me from my travels<br /><br />Ch:<br /><br />Friends will come round and eagerly <br />Listen to tales of my journeys <br />Then we will drink a pint or two <br />To keep out the chill of the evening<br /><br />Ch:<br /><br />Dark is the night all is silent now <br />Let's leave this part of our lives <br />Here now beside me is my love <br />No more to lie alone</span></div>
</div>The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6387318700751692835.post-38034155728215042392012-07-22T08:36:00.000+01:002012-07-22T08:36:32.205+01:00Sweet Lover of Mine<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F53592785%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-XmN10&show_artwork=true&secret_url=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week's song is an upbeat version of a song that you may well know, over to you Rob (sans Garfunkel):<br /><br />"I love the fact that there are so many versions and arrangements of different<br />traditional songs that perhaps there is one song you could sing all the time, and no-one<br />would ever get bored. Maybe. I don't know how many versions there are of the Two<br />Sisters, or the Prickly Bush for example but I'd love to have the time to find out.<br /><br />Most people are familiar with "Scarborough Fair" as recorded back in the day by<br />Simon & Garfunkel, and many 'folkies' also know that this is Martin Carthy's version<br />of Child Ballad #2, The Elfin Knight. Child lists over a dozen variants and other<br />collectors have found over 50 different texts. The Coppers have "My Father He Had<br />an Acre of Land in their song basket, and I once heard Sandra Kerr at a Singers Group<br />here in Bath sing a smashing Northumbrian version called Whittingham Fair.<br /><br />Last year Emily Smith released "Traiveller's Joy", a great album which I heartily<br />recommend, and on it I found this song, "Sweet Lover of Mine". She says that the<br />version she started with was collected in Coleraine, Ulster. It has been running around<br />in my head for some months now, and a few Sunday's ago at The Star it just sort of<br />came out, though I have to say it is infinitely better sung with Emily's Scottish accent.<br />I didn't know Tim was recording at the time, but he was, and here it is...."<br /><br />Sweet Lover of Mine by Emily Smith (Anglicised by Rob Winder)<br /><br />As I came over by Bonny Moor Hill<br />Every rose grows bonny in time<br />I met a sweet lass, and they called her Nell<br />Longing to be a sweet lover of mine<br /><br />It’s questions three I will ask of thee<br />Every rose grows bonny in time<br />And it’s questions three you must answer me<br />Before you are a sweet lover of mine<br /><br />You must make me a cambric shirt<br />Every rose grows bonny in time<br />Without one stitch of your needlework<br />Before you are a sweet lover of mine<br /><br />You must wash it in yonder well<br />Every rose grows bonny in time<br />Where never water ran and rain never fell<br />Before you are a sweet lover of mine<br /><br />Then dry it out on yonder thorn<br />Every rose grows bonny in time<br />Where blossom never bloomed since Adam was born<br />Before you are a sweet lover of mine<br /><br />That’s questions three you have asked of me<br />Every rose grows bonny in time<br />And it’s questions three you’ll now answer me<br />Before you are a sweet lover of mine<br /><br />You must get me an acre of land<br />Every rose grows bonny in time<br />Between the salt sea and the sea water strand<br />Before you are a sweet lover of mine<br /><br />You must plough it with an old ram’s horn<br />Every rose grows bonny in time<br />And then sow it o’er with a single grain of corn<br />Before you are a sweet lover of mine<br /><br />You must sheer it with a sickle of leather<br />Every rose grows bonny in time<br />And bind it all with a peacock’s feather<br />Before you are a sweet lover of mine<br /><br />Then stook it o’er on yonder sea<br />Every rose grows bonny in time<br />And bring the shell sheaf dry back unto me<br />Before you are a sweet lover of mine<br /><br />And when you’ve done and finished your work<br />Every rose grows bonny in time<br />You may call unto me for your cambric shirt<br />And you'll be a sweet lover of mine<br /><br />Then I'll be a sweet lover of thine</span>The Sunday Singershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13195295195836475281noreply@blogger.com0