The Streams of Bunclody

This week's song is a second track from Rosie Upton:

"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!"

Rosie

Oh were I at the moss house where the birds do increase
By the foot of Mount Leinster or some silent place
By the streams of Bunclody where all fortunes do meet
Aye and all I would ask is one kiss from you sweet

Oh it’s why my love slights me as you might understand
For she has a freehold and I have no land
She has fine store of riches in silver and gold
And everything fitting a house to a home

Oh were a clerk and could write a good hand
I would write my love a letter that she might understand
Oh but I am a poor fellow that is wounded in love
Once I lived in Bunclody but now must remove

Oh the cuckoo she’s a pretty bird she sings as she flies
She brings us good tidings and tells us no lies
But she sucks other birds' eggs just to make her voice clear
And the more she sings cuckoo the summer draws near

So its farewell to my father, my mother adieu
My sisters and brothers farewell unto you
I am bound out for Americay my fortune to try
And when I think on Bunclody I am ready to die