Hanging Johnny

A nice little song this week from John Ruddock who dropped into the session a little while back. John is mainly based in Oxford but comes by this way every now and again. He will be performing at the Bath Folk Festival which is being held from the 13th - 19th August 2012:

"I learned this song off a feller called Adrian in the Cross Guns at Avoncliff. I don't actually know a lot about it, it just makes a nice change to sing one from the hangman's perspective, having done lots of Prickle-Eyed Bush, Sam Hall and the like."

Well, to flesh it out rather, there's a lovely bit of information from the book Windjammers: Songs of the Great Lakes Sailors by Ivan H. Walton and Joe Grimm, in which Carl Joys remembers the song thus:

"Hanging Johnny" did not refer to a sheriff's hangman, but instead to nimble young sailors who, when a topsail was to be hoisted, would climb to the masthead and "swing out" on the proper halyard. They would then ride to the deck as the men at the foot of the mast brought them down by their successive pulls. Joys recalled one chanteyman who would always tell the boys when to swing out by shouting up to them, "Hang, you bastards, hang!" Then, while the boys were hanging on the halyard fifty feet or more above the deck, he'd start his song and the crew would make two pulls on each chorus. When the boys hit the deck, they would tail on behind the other men and pull with them until the work was finished. Joys added that the word "hang" was "the best goddamn pullin' word in the language, especially on a down haul."

John & Tim

Oh they calls me hanging Johnny
Away boys away
They says I hang for money
And it's hang boys hang

Well first I hanged my Granny
I hanged her up so canny

Well then I hanged my mother
Then me sister then me Brother

Oh they calls me hanging Johnny
They says I hang for money

Oh they says I hang for money
But I do it cos it's funny

Oh the next I hanged a copper
I gave him a right long dropper

Oh they calls me hanging Johnny
They says I hang for money

The Parrot and the Maiden

I was singing and chatting with friends in the Star one Sunday evening when
something triggered a half memory of a song involving a false knight\lover, and
oddly enough, a parrot. No-one knew what I was talking about, possibly because of
an excess of Doombar, but later I realised that I had been thinking of the Outlandish
Knight by Nic Jones.

After going back to the primary source, Child Ballad #4, Lady Isobel and the False
Knight, I found myself putting together a version of my own. Admittedly, I have
drawn heavily on one of Jones' two versions (on Ballads & Songs) and on Child #4(E)
for the lyrics; the tune went through several mutations before settling down much as
you hear it here.

With both the Outlandish Knight and many of the Child variations, I was not quite
comfortable with the role played by the lady's parrot. Her father awakes on her return
and wants to know what all the noise is about, and instead of telling him that she's
just narrowly escaped kidnap and being murdered, she goes along with the parrot's
explanation that he (the parrot that is) is causing all the fuss, being alarmed by a cat
entering the bedroom. The Lady even goes so far to reward the parrot with a golden
cage "with a door of the finest ivory" for such excellent dissembling. I think that
dramatically, the song works best ending with her 'escape', so I have cut out her return
home. However I didn't want to ditch the parrot altogether, so I have kept him in by
making him the source of the song, and he more or less 'bookends' the narrative.

Although I have since sung The Parrot & The Maiden as one in a set of songs I
call "Smart Women, Stupid Men" - it is hard to find a more apt example of male
asininity than here - this slightly rough recording was made in the Star some weeks
after the original conversation. Thanks to Sue and others for their support on the
refrains!

Rob

The parrot he sat in the window so high,
He sang me this maiden's song
How she escaped with her life and her honour intact
From a knight who would do her much wrong, much wrong,
From a knight who would do her much wrong.

This outlandish knight from the north lands did come,
And he's come a-courting she;
He's promised to take her unto the north lands,
Where they would a-married be, would be,
Where they would a-married be.

'Come, fetch me some of your father's gold,
And some of your mother's fee,
And the two finest nags from out of the stable,
Wherein there stand thirty and three, and three,
Wherein there stand thirty and three.'

She's fetched him some of her father's gold,
And some of her mother's fee,
And the two finest horses from out of the stable,
Wherein there stand thirty and three, and three,
Wherein there stand thirty and three.'

She's mounted on her milk-white steed,
And he on the dapple grey;
They've ridden all night to a far rocky shore,
By the sea so cold and grey, so grey,
By the sea so cold and grey.

'Light off, light off your milk-white steed,
Deliver it unto me;
For six pretty maidens have I drowned here,
And the seventh thou surely shalt be, shalt be,
And the seventh thou surely shalt be.

'And take off, take off your silken gown,
Deliver it unto me;
Methinks that it is too fine and too gay
For to rot all in the salt sea, salt sea,
For to rot all in the salt sea.

'Take off, take off your silken stays,
Deliver them unto me;
Methinks that they are too fine and too fair
For to rot all in the salt sea, salt sea,
For to rot all in the salt sea.

'Now take you off your Holland smock,
Deliver it unto me;
Methinks that it is too fine and too rare
For to rot all in the salt sea, salt sea,
For to rot all in the salt sea.

'Well if I'm to take off my Holland smock,
Then turn your back unto me;
For it is not fitting a rogue such as you
My naked body should see, should see,
My naked body should see.'

So he's turned around his back to the maid
To view the leaves so green;
And she's taken him by his slender waist,
And she's tumbled him into the sea, the sea,
she's tumbled him into the sea.

Well he bobbed high and he bobbed low,
And he's come unto the side;
'Pray give me your hand, my fair pretty maid,
And I will make you my bride, my bride,
Yes I will make you my bride.'

'Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man,
Lie there instead of me;
For six pretty maidens have you drowned here,
But the seventh has surely drowned thee, drowned thee,
Oh the seventh has surely drowned thee.'

The parrot he sang me this maiden's tale
This song I have sung to thee
His cage it is made of the glittering gold,
And the door of the finest ivory, ivory,
And the door of the finest ivory.

The Sheep Shearing Song

The first weekend in June, it's officially Summer and we're greeted with sunshine and showers and an old lady on a chair... lovely!

This weeks song must well be familiar in one version or another to many of the listeners, this set of lyrics were collected in Wooton Fitzpaine, Dorset by the Hammond brothers in 1906. Being familiar with previous versions of the song, this one touched me as it comes from closer to my family home and includes a lovely rise in the chorus that adds a beautiful little touch carrying with it a sense of the summer coming.

The song was originally entitled 'The sheep shearing ballad' and was part of the play 'The Country Lasses; or, The Custom of the Manor' first staged in 1714. On it's many runs the song obviously slipped off the stage and into the public conciousness in the Southern counties where the few versions of this song appear

Tim

Here's a rosebud in June, the sweet violets in full bloom
And the birds singing gaily on every green bough
Here's the pink and the lily and the daffy-down dilly
To adorn and perfume the sweet meadows in full bloom

Whilst out at plough the fat oxen go slow
And the lads and the lasses do sheep shearing go

Here's the cleanly milk pail, it is full of brown ale
Our table, our table, our table we'll spread
We'll eat and we'll drink, we'll laugh joke and sing
As each lad takes his lass all on the green grass

Ch.

And when we have sheared all our jolly, jolly sheep
What joy can be greater than to talk of the increase
Here's the ewes and the lambs, here's the hogs and the rams
And the fat wethers too, they will make a fine show

Ch

Death and the Lady

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

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

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

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

Tim

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

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

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

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

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

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

Courting is a pleasure

This week's song is an excellent take on this song by John Wilson:

For me, as for many people I suppose, this song has intense personal resonance. The theme of emotional betrayal and its aftermath forms the basis of a large proportion of songwriting. To paraphrase the famous saying, it keeps the juke box full. In 'Courting is a Pleasure' we are given the male perspective of what happens when love is lost. The themes touched upon are telling. They suggest to me two very different responses to heartbreak. In characterizing this heartbreak as 'wounding' the male protagonist admits his emotional life. However, as is all too evident in today's culture, the male response to emotional pain are those of violence and flight. These dark consequences appear in the lyric. I never feel easy with the line 'Up came he love Willie, with a bottle in his hand'. Apart from a reference to parting cups, the only other thing that this could mean is poisoning. 'Married we never will be' seems such a hollow statement, yet it echoes down the years, and although in the context of the song it seems almost superfluous, as a singer, it is the line with the most emotional charge.


The second theme in the song relates to estrangement from ones own land. This, for me, is another quite recognizable response to heartbreak, namely, self imposed banishment. 'Farewell' says the man to all that was familiar as if the whole of his landscape, the backdrop of his entire childhood, has become tarnished with his sense of betrayal and humiliation. The loss of personal landscape linked to the loss of love seems to permeate Carol Anne Duffy's poem 'Give'. I set this poem as a song, and it is the musical bridge used to separate Duffy's verses that is introduced into 'Courting'. This musical phrase has a repetitive persistence and a keening bent note which I find matches the persistence of heartbreak in life. I have been taught that betrayal is one of those gifts that keeps giving. With this in mind the last line of the song is always delivered as a curse.

John

Courting is a pleasure between my love and I
And it's down in yon green valley I'll meet her by and by
Oh way down in yon green valley, she is my heart's delight
Molly, lovely Molly, I will stay 'till broad daylight

Going to church last Sunday my true love she passed me by
I know her mind was altered by the roving of her eye
Well I know her mind was altered by a lad of high degree
Molly, lovely Molly, your looks have wounded me

Up came he love Willy with a bottle in his hand
Saying "Drink this, lovely Molly, for our love will never stand"
Saying "Drink this, lovely Molly, for the bottle flask, go free"
"Ten guineas I'll wager, that married we n'er shall be"

Never marry a fair young maid with a dark and a roving eye
You kiss her and you embrace her and then tell her the reason why
Just you kiss her and you embrace her till you cause her heart to yield
The faint-hearted soldier will never gain the field

Farewell, Ballymonie, likewise the sweet Bann shore
Farewell the husky braes, will I never see ye more
America lies far away, that land I will go see
And may all bad luck attend the one who parted my love and me

Million Dollar Highway

This week Sue regales us another tale of the West:

The Million Dollar Highway is a real place and it runs quite close to Angel Ridge in the Colorado mountains. The name is a declaration of desire both simple and direct: a road to the heart of the American dream. While this geographical certainty anchors the song firmly in the Americana tradition, its ideas are intended to be universal . 

Everyone has to travel the Million Dollar Highway, one way or another, like it or not. I started to think about what money means to me both before and after the crash: the fall that feels like a loss of innocence. I let the images gurgle away in my subconscious for a while and found that what came out drew heavily on bible stories, other songs in the bluegrass and gospel canon and mythologies of the wild wild west. I do not intend for this song to pass judgement but instead be an invitation to contemplate the complexities of our current situation in which most of us are complicit. To this end I took out all but the skeleton of a narrative, leaving images and characters to speak for themselves.  


Sue

It was a dead-eye day

When we all had to pay

The Devil’s costs

For getting us lost

On The Million Dollar Highway

And who did I see on that road with me

Burning up the dust

Going hell for bust

Like you can when you’re free?

Chorus

Hard times come to the Million Dollar Highway

You can lose your way on The Million Dollar Highway

Don’t ya sell your soul down The Million Dollar Highway.

He had fire in his eyes

And a belly full of lies

‘Don’t ya know who I am?’

‘I am The Lamb,

I am The Man in disguise.

Won’t ya catch a ride

Honey, come on climb inside

With your preacherman

Then we both can

Pass by on the other side'

Chorus

With his hand on the wheel

Of his automobile

He said ‘I am the light

And I know I’m right

You gotta have a heart of steel.’

And Preacher said he knew

Just what we had to do

He said ‘I think I’m gonna buy

Me a needle with an eye

I can drive on thru..

Instrumental ( chorus and half of verse)

I see angel bands

Holding out their hands

On the side of the road,

We never even slowed,

Rolling through The Badlands

Chorus

There’s the bankers and the conmen

The gamblers and the gunmen

The sad eyed soldiers

The paper folders

The mystics and the showmen

The slighted and the blind

The sorrowful of mind

All the working girls

With their stockings and their pearls

Rolling up behind

Chorus

Instrumental

Searching for Lambs

A warm welcome indeed to the merry month of May, to start this month here's a lovely little song that Cecil Sharp collected in a couple of villages in Somerset and described thus "Taking words and tune together, I consider this to be a very perfect example of a folk song". The 5/4 time signature (with a bar of 3/4 thrown in for good measure) and modal melody roll beautifully with the light hearted nature of the words.

I have heard this track done a few times and feel that the lad could be misread as being very forward with the young lady but to me there is an inference that he is on good terms already and perhaps the Spring air wins her over that sunny morning.

This recording was taken in Sam's kitchen, Bath during my gig there on Friday 4th May.

Tim

As I went out one May morning,
One May morning betime,
I met a maid, from home had stray'd
Just as the sun did shine.

What makes you rise so soon, my dear,
Your journey to pursue?
Your pretty little feet they tread so sweet,
Strike off the morning dew.

I'm going to feed my father's flock,
His young and tender lambs
That over hill and over dales
Lie waiting for their dams.

O stay! O stay! you handsome maid,
And rest a moment here,
For there is none but you alone,
That I do love so dear.

How gloriously the sun doth shine,
How pleasant is the air,
I'd rather rest on my true love's breast
Than any other where.

For I am thine and thou art mine;
No man shall uncomfort thee;
We'll join our hands in wedded bands
And married we will be.