Bjornsborg Songbook - Ansteorran Bardic Guild

Transcription

Table of Contents
Introduction.............................................................1
Scarborough Fair (Child Ballad #2) ................... 50
Why "Annotated"?...................................................1
Some Rival ...................................................... 52
Rounds...................................................................3
Spring Strathspey............................................. 54
The Rose Rounds...............................................3
Twa Corbies (Child Ballad #26) ........................ 56
Babylon ..............................................................6
Wedding Dress ................................................ 58
Dona Nobis Pacem.............................................6
The Widow and the Devil.................................. 59
Hey Ho to the Greenwood..................................7
Wild Mountain Thyme....................................... 60
To the Greenwood Follow...................................7
Wintery Queen (Leprous White Lady)............... 61
Sweet And Sad Ballads...........................................8
Witch of the Westmoreland .............................. 63
Bonny At Morn....................................................8
Lively and Rowdy Songs ...................................... 64
Broomfield hill (Child Ballad #43) ........................9
Black Velvet Band............................................ 64
Calling On Song ...............................................11
Carlow ............................................................. 66
Cruel Sister (Child Ballad #10) ..........................12
Drink to the Sword............................................ 67
Old Lord by the Northern Sea
(Child Ballad #10) .............................................14
The Fox ........................................................... 68
The Cuckoo ......................................................16
I'm a Rover Seldom Sober................................ 71
Do You Love an Apple? ....................................17
The Keeper ...................................................... 72
The Bonny Earl of Murray (Child Ballad #181)...18
Lord of the Dance............................................. 73
Geordie (Child Ballad #209) ..............................20
Lughnasaid Dance ........................................... 74
The Massacre of Glencoe .................................21
Golden Vanity (Child Ballad #286) ....................23
Maids When You're Young Never Wed an Old
Man ................................................................. 75
Gypsy Rover (Child Ballad #200) ......................25
Maldon............................................................. 76
I Live Not Where I Love ....................................27
Men Of Harlech................................................ 78
John Barleycorn................................................28
Parcel of Rogues ............................................. 81
Karelia's Song ..................................................30
Queen of Argyll ................................................ 83
Loch Lomond....................................................31
Ramblin' Rover................................................. 84
Maid on the Shore (Child Ballad #43) ................32
Rising of the Moon ........................................... 84
Martin Said to his Man ......................................34
Roddy MacCorley............................................. 86
Men of the Picts................................................36
Song of the Shield-Wall.................................... 87
Minstrel Boy......................................................37
Sovay .............................................................. 89
Prince Lir's Song (When I Was a Young Man)...38
Thor's Son ....................................................... 90
Queen Eleanor's Confession
(Child Ballad #156) ...........................................39
Three Drunken Maidens ................................... 92
Raven Banner ..................................................41
The Two Magicians (Child Ballad #44) ............. 94
Return of the King.............................................42
Virgio (Child Ballad #14) ................................... 96
The Rolling of the Stones (Child Ballad #49) .....45
White Man's Rain Chant................................... 97
The Rolling World .............................................46
The Wild Rover (No Nay Never) ....................... 98
Rosemary Lane ................................................48
Bibliography ....................................................... 100
The Saucy Sailor ..............................................49
Green Grow the Rushes, Oh! ........................... 69
Three Jolly Coachmen ..................................... 93
Introduction
Many long years ago, on a bitterly cold night at a Bjornsborg Baroness's Champion Tourney, a number of
people huddled around a fire pit for warmth. It was a much different scene, though, than someone younger in
the S.C.A. might envisage, because this circle lacked something we take for granted today – the singing of
songs. They had the ingredients – good friends, a warm fire, merriment – and before long these people
began to sing. Not knowing medieval music, they sang what they knew to sing at a fire – rock and roll, some
folk, the types of songs they sang at mundane campfires. It was fun and it made the dark and cold seem
further away.
Afterwards, looking back upon this first Bjornsborg circle of song, the people who had been there said, "That
was a lot of fun, but I wish we could do it and be more medieval."
Many members of the barony went and delved into their record collections (a record or "LP" is a type of
prehistoric dinosaur version of a CD, for the very youngest readers). The 1950's, 60's and 70's had seen an
enormous revival of folk music, and recordings by a number of groups contained music that was identified as
"traditional" and which dealt with medieval themes. The music of Steeleye Span, Silly Sisters, Pentangle and
many other "folk" groups was mined for songs, as were folk recordings by Irish and Scottish artists. People
also went looking for new music, and songs by artists such as Gwydion Pendderwen, Ruth Barrett & Cyntia
Smith, Celtic Stone and others were added to the repertoire. And, of course, new songs were created by
members of the barony as well. People sat close to their ste reo speakers and replayed songs over and over
to get the words and tunes down, and liner notes that had lyrics were studied and copied and shared.
And so a tradition was born. The songs were learned and taught to others, collections of the lyrics were
printed in earlier versions of the Bjornsborg By Night songbooks, and songs rang out into the night around so
many campfires, the voices raised in harmony (or even in the key of Leon) – singing was a part of what
defined the community of Bjornsborg.
Over the years, the old vinyl records become harder to access as we purchased newer technologies and old
turntables were discarded. Cassette tapes that are now ten or fifteen years old are worn out. And many of
the tunes that were learned only by one or two of the first generations of singers have been lost from the
repertoire because individuals have forgotten the words or tune, or the singers have left us for a time or for
this lifetime.
Yet there is still an interest and great enjoyment in the singing, and in the tradition of Bjornsborg group singing
that has been forged over the many years. This songbook is the result of one singer's desire to share this
tradition with old friends and new, and to carry the tradition on into the future, keeping the songs alive that
make real the past.
Why "Annotated"?
When I began the project of gathering together the words, scores, tablatures, and recordings of the many
songs in the Bjornsborg oral repertoire, I began learning many things about this music that I found interesti ng,
and which shed light on the song's medievalness or lack thereof. Not every piece contained herein is
exhaustively researched. But for those for which I do have information, I have shared it. Note emphatically
that I am not saying that a song which is not actually period should not be learned or sung within the S.C.A.!
I know that some people will find it strange that a Laurel might include works that are not perfectly period in a
collection of songs for use in the S.C.A. About this, my view is that there is a time and a place for many kinds
of music in the Society. In a formal Arts and Sciences competition, a performer will score better with a song
that can be documented firmly in content, tune, etc. as unarguably period. But around a campfire for
entertainment of oneself and one's friends, there are many songs which have a medieval "feel" or topic, and
which are sung in a style or manner that does not destroy that magical illusion that we share. Duke
Cariadoc's thoughts on this matter are, I think, enlightening:
I find it useful to divide performances into three categories: unacceptable, tolerable, and
period. The division is based mostly on the degree to which the performance creates or
destroys the illusion of really being, for at least a few minutes, in the Middle Ages.
Unacceptable is anything that makes it obvious that the performer is a twentieth century
person addressing a twentieth century audience. That includes stories about knights going
The Annotated Bjornsborg By Night Songbook
Spring 2003
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through metal detectors and anything else with obviously out of period references – the
"Song of Sir Greenbaum," for instance. It also includes anything written to an obviously
modern tune or in a blatantly modern style, especially take-offs on popular songs. Those are
the sorts of things that I do not perform at events (post revels are another matter) and try to
keep out of my bardic circle.
The tolerable category consists of pieces that would be recognized as out of period, in form
or content, by any reasonably expert observer, but not by a random member of the audience.
That includes folk songs with post 1600 tunes and songs, stories, or poems that refer to
events that are out of period but not obviously so. The tolerable category does not include
folk songs prefaced with an apology about not being in period; the song may be acceptable,
but the preface is not.
The period category includes works actually composed in period, such as stories from the
sagas, Boccaccio, Usamah or al-Tanukhi. It also includes works written, inside or outside of
the Society, in period form on period topics. Examples would include the words, at least, to
"Song of the Shield Wall," "The Raven Banner," and "Catalan Company"-three of my favorite
SCA poems. Stories about events in the SCA also qualify, if told in such a way that they
could be stories about people in period. Works in this category are the reason for having a
bardic circle.
There are a lot of borderline cases. The tune to "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" is not
exactly modern, but most hearers know it is not period. At the other extreme, the words to
"Catalan Company" contain echoes of the modern folksong from which its tune is borrowed,
but not many people are likely to notice them.
A song that sounds fine to me may seem clearly unacceptable to Mistress Johanna, who is a
semi-professional lutenist; a story about Iceland or al-Islam that sounds period to her may
strike me as obviously out of period in style or contents. As with most things in the Society,
the important classifications are not right and wrong but better and worse. We cannot expect
to do things perfectly-even period songs are rarely played on exact replicas of period
instruments-but we can agree that the closer we come, in form and content, to works that
were or could have been created in period, the better.
There are many dimensions to authenticity, and sometimes they conflict....
(Duke Cariadoc of the Bow (David Friedman). "Concerning the C in SCA." Cariadoc's
Miscellany. Originally published in The Mews, summer 1988.
http://www.pbm.com/~lindahl/cariadoc/concerning_the_c_in_sca.html Accessed 15 March
2003.)
So, to my friends of many years, newer comrades, and to those I do not yet know, I dedicate this version of
the Bjornsborg By Night songbook. May we all sing together in harmony.
::GUNNVÖR::
Four female musicians; detail of a page from Officium B. V. Mariae, Venice, 1493.
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Rounds
A round is a song with a single melody, which when sung at offset intervals by more than one person,
th
provides its own harmony. Rounds can be documented back as far as the 11 century, though the earliest
th
surviving round, Sumer is icumen in, seems to come from the 13 century.
The Rose Rounds
"Rose" is one of the rounds that people all over the world seem to know. There are three main tunes to the
little rounds within this "family." Below, each round is grouped with the others sharing the same tune. In
addition to all of these, we've found that "Rolling of the Stones" (in the Ballads section) can be sung with the
various verses above as well.
"Rose, Rose" tune
1. Rose Variant A
Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose,
Will I ever see thee wed?
I will marry at they will, sire,
At thy will.
2. Rose Variant B
Rose, Rose, Rose Red,
Will I ever see thee wed?
I will marry at thy will, sire.
At thy will.
Rose, Rose, Rose White,
Will you be my love tonight?
I'll lay with thee at thy will, sire.
At thy will.
3. Rose Variant C
Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose,
Wilt thou ever marry me?
Ah yes sir, that I may If thou will but stay.
4. All Night by the Rose
The Middle English verse here dates to just after
1300 and comes from the MS Rawlinson D. 913.
While the verse fits the "Rose" tune and subject
matter, I've found no evidence that the traditional
"Rose" tune goes back this far. Thanks to Master
Cedric Fiðelere for the clue about the various Middle
English verses.
Al nyght by the rose, rose,
Al nyght by the rose I lay.
Durste I noght the rose stele;
And yet I bar the flour awey.
All night by the rose, rose,
All night by the rose I lay.
Dared I not the rose to steal
And yet I bore the flower away.
5. I am Rose
(Camb. Univ. MS. Hh.6.11) Middle English with
translation. Learned from Master Cedric Fiðelere.
I am Rose, wo is me,
Sutere þat i suete þe;
I wacs þat weylawey,
cherles hand me þristet ay.
I am Rose, woe is me.
Sweeter than the sweet I be.
I wax in grief and misery:
A churlish hand has pluck-ed me.
Medieval/Renaissance Food Clip-Art Collection
(http://www.pbm.com/~lindahl/food-art/)
from Parkinson's "Paradisi in Sole Paradisus Terrestris", 1629
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6. "Bells" verses
Ding dong, ding dong
Wedding bells on an April morn
Carve my name on a moss
covered stone,
On a moss covered stone.
Ding dong, ding dong
Funeral bells on a September
morn,
Rose, oh Rose, is dead and gone
sire,
Dead and gone.
"Ah Poor Bird" Tune
1. Ah Poor Bird
Ah poor bird
Take thy flight
High above the sorrows
Of this sad night
2. Hawthorne Tree
Middle English with transl., Master Cedric Fiðelere.
Evere kynd af tre,
Swa evere kynd af tre,
The hawþorn groweþ sworte
Swa evere kynd af tre.
7. Peace Round
By Jeanne Ritchie (1960's)
Oh, what a goodly thing
If the children of the earth
Could dwell together
In peace.
8. The Fiddler's Wife
I won’t be my mother's Jack,
And I won’t be my father's Jill.
I will be a fiddler’s wife
And fiddle, as I will.
9. The Gospel is Love
Love, love, love, love,
The gospel in this world is love.
Love thy neighbor as they brother,
Love, love, love.
"Hey Ho" Tune
1. Hey ho
Hey, ho, nobody home
Meat nor drink nor money have I
none
Yet would I be very merry
Hey, ho, nobody home.
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Me leman she schal be,
Me leman she schal be,
Þe faerest af evere kynd,
Me leman she schal be.
Every kind of tree,
Of every kind of tree,
The hawthorne is the sweetest
Of every kind of tree.
My lady she shall be,
My lady she shall be,
The fairest of every kin,
My lady she shall be.
4. Thirty Days hath November
Middle English with transl., Master Cedric Fiðelere.
Thirti dayes hath nouembir,
April, iune, and septembir;
Of tuenti-eighte hath but oon,
And all the remenaunt thirti and oon.
Thirty days has November,
April, June and September;
Of twenty-eight there is but one,
And all the remnant have thirty-one.
The "Hey Ho" version that is usually sung in Bjornsborg is the same as that found on Peter, Paul and Mary's
A-Soulin', which is, however, a modern composition. "Hey, Ho" derives from a period round found in a 1609
book by Thomas Ravenscroft, Pammelia: Mvsicks Miscellanie. In Ravenscroft's version, instead of ending
with the familiar "Yet will I be merry," the original line ended with "Fill the pot, Eadie." The change in the lyric
was a Victorian innovation in support of temperance.
"Hey Ho" from Thomas Ravenscroft's Pammelia, 1609
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Babylon
Psalm 137. The medieval version of this round is Super Flumina Babylonis, by Giovanni Palestrina. The
version sung in Bjornsborg is the one popularized by singer Don MacLean.
Dona Nobis Pacem
Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina (c.1526 - 1594)
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"Dona Nobis Pacem" is a three-part round attributed to the 16 century composer Giovanni Palestrina. The
words are Latin, meaning "Give Us Peace."
Rögnvaldr Tilbúinn is the man responsible for butchering this song during Christmas Caroling one year by
mutating the words to "Do Not Mess With Possums" – once you've heard this up close while you're trying to
sing the correct words and tune, you may never be able to sing it properly again.
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Hey Ho to the Greenwood
This round was written by William Byrd (1543 - 1623) and was published by Thomas Ravenscroft in
Pammelia: Mvsicks Miscellanie. (1609).
Hey ho, to the greenwood now let us go, Sing heave and ho!
And there shall we find both buck and doe, Sing heave and ho!
The hart, the hind, and the little pretty roe, Sing heave and ho!
To the Greenwood Follow
Three-part round by John Hilton (1627).
John Hilton (1599-1657)
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Sweet And Sad Ballads
Ballads, as we understand the term today, are a type of song that
tells a story. Before 1400, a "ballad" was a specific type of French
th
poetry (what is called a "ballade" today). By the 15 century, a
"ballad" was a song that was meant to accompany a dance, for
example "Ormen Lange". By the Tudor period, a "ballad" was any
light, simple song, for example King Henry VIII's "Pastime With
Good Company". By the end of the S.C.A.'s period and after,
"broadside ballads" appeared, printed song sheets inexpensively
printed and sold on the streets, often dealing with current affairs,
and many were set to older tunes, which tune being indicated by
the broadside.
The ballad was almost completely lost as the Industrial Age
dawned and recorded music began to make the oral process of
learning ballads and other folk music a thing of the past. The
preservation of the ballad as a song-form can be credited to
th
Francis James Child, who at the end of the 19 century published
a five-volume collection, The English and Scottish Popular
Ballads, which included every traditional English or Scottish ballad
Child was able to find. The songs in this collection are today often
referred to as "Child Ballads" and identified by the numbering
scheme Child used in order to classify the 305 groups of songs,
some with over a hund red variants.
Francis James Child
It should be noted that while many of the Child Ballads can be traced to medieval songs, and many have
subjects and lyrics that have a medieval "feel", not all can be traced back further than the 1800's. Many of the
Child Ballads were being sung by the 1500's, and quite likely a great many others were never written down,
especially if the singers were not educated or noble. To complicate the issue further, in very many instances
the actual form, lyrics and tune of a "traditional ballad" is something that is quite different from the medieval
form, and ballads evolved further still upon coming to America. It is in fact possible to see variations in a
given ballad that occurred even in the time between the settlement of the Appalachians and that of the
Ozarks.
Bonny At Morn
The song "Bonny at Morn" is a traditional song from Northumberland and taken from the Northumbrian
Minstrelsy (1882). The song paints a picture of less-than-domestic-bliss: the baby awakes a little too early,
but the big lad and the big lass are loathe to rise; hence the interjaculatory phrase "Thou's ower lang in thy
bed" in the midst of the song.
The sheep's in the meadows,
The kye's in the corn,
Thou's ower lang in thy bed,
Bonny at morn.
The bird's in the nest,
The trout's in the burn,
Thou hinders thy mother
At many a turn.
(Refrain):
Canny at night,
Bonny at morn,
Thou's ower lang in thy bed,
Bonny at morn.
We're all laid idle
Wi' keeping the bairn,
The lad will not work
And the lass will not learn.
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Broomfield hill (Child Ballad #43)
"Broomfield Hill" has been most often collected in the south west of England, but has also cropped up in
Scotland and North America. Child traced this ballad through European medieval literature from Iceland to
Italy. This song is thought to go back to "A Song of Brume, Brume on Hil," which appears in the 1549 The
Complaynt of Scotland. The same lyrics were used as a song in a comedy called The Longer Thou Livest the
More Fool Thou Art," c. 1568, and were also included in Captain Cox's 1575 Bunch of Ballets and Songs All
Auncient. The version here does not use the oldest lyrics, but the outline of the story is unchanged. Since
broom flowers in May and June, it is one of the plants of love and romance in European poetry. Older
versions of this ballad often have a wide strain of rape and murder present (for instance, see
http://www.birchmore.info/broomhill.gif).
There was lord in the north country
And he courted a lady gay.
As they were riding side by side
A wager she did lay.
"Oh I wager you five hundred pounds,
Five hundred pounds to one,
That a maid I will go to the merry green wood
And a maid I will return!"
So there she sat in her mother's bower door
And there she made a moan
Saying, "Should I go to the Broomfield Hill
Or should I stay at home?"
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Then up and spake an old witch woman
As she sat all alone,
Saying, "You shall go to the Broomfield Hill
And a maid you shall return."
"For when you get to the Broomfield Hill
You'll find your love asleep,
With his hawk, his hound and his silk and satin gown,
And his ribbons all down to his feet."
"And you'll pick the blossom from off the broom,
The blossom that smells so sweet.
And you'll lay some down at the crown of his head,
And more at the sole of his feet."
So she's away to the Broomfield Hill
And she's found her love asleep,
With his hawk, his hound and his silk and satin gown,
And his ribbons all down to his feet.
And she's picked the blossom from off the broom,
The blossom that smells so sweet.
And she's laid some down at the crown of his head,
And more at the soles of his feet.
And she's pulled off her gay gold ring
And she's pressed it in his right hand,
For to let him know when he wakened from his sleep
That his love had been there at his command.
And when he woke out of his sleep
When the birds began to sing,
Saying, "awaken, awaken, awaken, master,
Your true love's been and gone!"
"Oh where were you, my gay goshawk,
And where were you, my steed?
And where were you, my good greyhound?
Why did you not waken me?"
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"Oh I clapped with me wings, master,
And all me bells I rang!
I cried, awaken, awaken, awaken, master,
Before this lady ran!"
"And I stamped with my foot, master,
Shook me bridle till it rang!
But nothing would awaken you
Till she had been and gone."
"So haste, haste, me good gray steed
To come where she may be,
Or all the birds of the Broomfield Hill
Shall eat their fill of thee!"
Oh you need not waste your good gray steed
By racing to her home,
For no bird flies faster through the wood
Than she fled through the broom.
Calling On Song
Songs similar to this one are used by the leaders of rapper and long sword dance teams to preface the
dancing and to drum up a crowd. The duration of these songs depended on how long it took for a satisfactory
audience to assemble. The version here is from Steeleye Span's 1995 album, Hark! The Village Wait. This
calling-on tune was authored by Ashley Hutchings especially for this album, but the inspiration and basis for
this song was "The Captain's Song of the Earsdon Sword Dance Team", and was consciously done in the
traditional style.
The sword dance is a relic of an ancient death-and-resurrection folk play was performed all across Britain.
The basic form of this drama presents the audience the Fool or Medicine Man with his six hero sons, armed
with swords. The sons put their father to death and lament for him, comparing him to the evening sun. But the
Fool arises from the dead and recounts his journey to the other world. In north Yorkshire, Durham and
Northumberland the sword-dance part of the drama survives, notably among miners. "The Captain's Song of
the Earsdon Sword Dance Team" is used by the the coal miners of Earsdon; it's sung by the captain of the
sword-dancers and with it, he calls on each of his heroes and gives him a fictitious name and character, as a
kind of disguise.
Good people, pray heed our petition
Your attention we beg and we crave
And if you are inclined for to listen
An abundance of pastime we'll have
Royal Earsdon Sword Dance Team
We are come to relate many stories
Concerning our forefather's times
And we trust they will drive out your worries
Of this we are all in one mind
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Many tales of the poor and the gentry
Of labor and love will arise
There are no finer songs in this country
In Scotland and Ireland likewise
There's one thing more needing mention
The dances we've danced all in fun
So now that you've heard our intention
We'll play on the beat of the drum
"Sword Dance of the Cutter's Guild," coloured pen
drawing by an unknown artist, 1600. Germanisches
Nationalmuseum, Nurenberg, Germany
Cruel Sister (Child Ballad #10)
"Cruel Sister" first appears on a broadside in 1656 as The Miller and the King's Daughter. Variants and
alternate titles include: "Twa Sisters", "The Bonnie Milldams of Binnorie", "The Bonny Bows o' London",
"Binnorie" and "Sister, Dear Sister" as well as many others. This is perhaps one of the most widespread of all
ballads, being found in Scandinavia and Northern Europe as well as Great Britain, and in scores of versions
everywhere it survives. Perhaps the popularity of the "Cruel Sister" ballads is the song's themes of love,
betrayal, and in some versions supernatural retribution. The ballad tells of two sisters who are rivals for the
same suitor; he loves the younger, the elder sister becomes jealous, and drowns her sister. In several
variants, which I think of as "The Necrophiliac Bard" version, the drowned sister's body eventu ally washes up
on shore, where a passing musician makes an instrument from her bones and strings out of her golden hair.
When the instrument is played before the girl's family it begins to sing a greeting to her father, then to her
mother and finally accuses the elder sister of the murder. In the Scandinavian tales the instrument is played at
the wedding of the elder sister to the suitor but this seems to have been lost along the way from the British
ballads. The earliest printing of the ballad "The Two Sisters" dates back to the 1650s when it appeared on a
broadsheet, and variations have regularly appeared in ballad collections ever since.
Given the wide spread of this ballad across the world, it is not surprising that two different versions have
entered the Bjornsborg song hoard, the version here, and "Old Lord By The Northern Sea (Bow Down)",
below.
d
d
c
There lived a lady by the North Sea shore.
Lay the bent to the bonny broom.
Two daughters were the babes she bore.
Fa la la la la la la la.
c
One grew as fair as in the sun:
So cold, dark, grew the elder one.
A knight came riding to the ladies' door.
He traveled far to be their wooer.
He courted one with gloves and rings.
But the other he loved above all things.
"Oh, sister, sister won't you walk with me,
To see the ships sail o'er sea."
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And as they walked the windy shore,
The dark girl pushed her sister o'er.
They took three strands of her yellow hair
And with them strung this harp so rare.
Sometimes she sank, sometimes she
swam
Crying "Sister, reach to me your hand!"
They took this harp to her father's hall
There to play before them all.
"Oh sister, sister please let me live
And all that's mine I'll surely give!"
"It's your own true love I want, and more
That thou shalt never come ashore."
And as she floated like a swan,
The salt sea bore her body on.
Two minstrels walked by the windy strand
They saw her body float to land.
But when they set the harp upon a stone,
It began to play alone.
The first song sang a doleful sound:
"The bride her younger sister drowned."
The second string, when this they tried:
"In terror sits the black haired bride."
The third string sang beneath their bow:
"And now her tears will surely flow."
They made a harp of her breast bone
Whose sound would melt a heart of stone.
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Old Lord by the Northern Sea (Child Ballad #10)
This is the second variant of the "Cruel Sister" ballad, this one introduced by Lady Brigitte de Navarre. For
such a grim and gruesome tale, this version has a particularly disturbing and cheerful, sprightly tune. As an
interesting note, scholar Annie Gilchrist studied the "Bow Down" refrain in an article in Folk Song Journal in
1931. She felt that the refrain of "Bow down, Bow Down," followed by the lines "I'll be true to my true love if
my love'll be true to me" were probably features of the oldest, original progenitor of the Cruel Sister ballads.
Gilchrist explains the refrain as being linked to an old custom of love divination that took place on St. John's
st
Eve (Midsummer, June 21 ) in which two stems of the plant called orpine or livelong (Sedum telephium) were
planted into wet clay by young girls who wanted to find out if their love was true. The two stems represented
the young girl and her lover. If in the morning the stems leaned towards each other then the lover was true
but if they bent away from each other then he was untrue.
d
d
d
c
There lived an old lord by the northern sea
Bow down (Bow down)
The boughs they bend to me.
And he had daughters, one, two, three.
I'll be true to my love if my love will be true to me.
c
c
A young man came a-courting there…
He found the youngest more than fair…
He gave his love a gay gold ring…
He gave the eldest nary a thing…
He gave his love a beaver hat…
The eldest, she thought hard of that…
"Oh sister, dear, let's we walk out…"
"And watch the ships go sailing about…"
As they walked by the salty brim…
The eldest pushed the youngest in…
"Oh, sister dear, pray lend they hand…"
"And I will give you my house and land…"
"I'll neither lend you hand nor glove…"
"But I will have your own true love…"
Away she sank as the current ran…
Until she came to the miller's dam…
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Spring 2003
A young man came a-courting there…
He found the youngest more than fair.
The miller, he grabbed her with his hook…
And fished the fair maid out of the brook…
He's robbed her of her gay gold ring…
And then he pushed her in again…
The miller was hung for what he'd take…
The eldest sister was burned at the stake…
Spring 2003
Page 15
The Cuckoo
Earliest ref. is 1796, England. Wide variety of American versions.
Oh, the Cuckoo is a pretty bird, she sings as she flies.
She brings us good tidings, she tells us no lies.
She drinks from white blossoms for to keep her voice clear
And the more she sings cuckoo the summer draws near.
As I once was a-walking and talking one day,
I met my own true love as he came that way.
Oh the meeting was pleasure, though the courting was a woe.
I found him false hearted, he'd kiss me, and then he'd go.
I wish I was a scholar and could handle the pen.
I'd write to my lover and to all roving men.
I would tell them of the grief and woe that attend on their lies.
I wish they would have pity on the flower, when it dies.
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Spring 2003
Do You Love an Apple?
This song, also known as "When I Was Single", "Still I Love Him", or "The Irish Blues" is one of those dreaded
tunes that is completely unidentified anywhere I've looked thus far as anything more specific than
"Traditional". This song might as well be entitled "The Abused Wife Song", but despite the disturbing lyrics it
has a beautiful tune, which probably explains why it has remained popular even in the modern world.
Do you love an apple? Do you love a pear?
Do you love a laddie with curly brown hair?
Still I love him, I can't deny him,
I'll be with him wherever he goes.
Before I got married I wore a black shawl,
But since I got married I wear bugger all (alt. "I wear none at all").
He stood at the corner, a fag in his mouth,
Two hands in his pockets, he whistled me out.
He works at the pier for nine bob a week.
On Saturday night he comes rolling home drunk.
Before I got married I'd sport and I'd play,
But now the cradle it gets in my way.
(Additional Verses)
Me back is a-breaking. Me fingers is sore,
Gutting the herring he brings to the shore.
The storm is a-raging. His boat isn't in.
Dursn't one tell me what's happened to him.
If he's gone to heaven, he'll come to no harm.
If he's gone to hell, then he'll keep himself warm.
Spring 2003
Page 17
The Bonny Earl of Murray (Child Ballad #181)
In December, 1591, Francis Stewart, Earl of Bothwell, had made an attempt to seize on the person of his
sovereign James VI, but being disappointed, had retired towards the north. The king unadvisedly gave a
commission to George Gordon, Earl of Huntley, to pursue Bothwell and his followers with fire and sword.
Huntley, under cover of executing that commission, took occasion to revenge a private quarrel he had against
James Stewart, Earl of Murray, a relation of Bothwell's. In the night of Feb. 7, 1592, he beset Murray's house,
burnt it to the ground, and slew Murray himself; a young nobleman of the most promising virtues, and the very
darling of the people.
The song appears to have first been published by Thomas Percy in his Reliques of Ancient English Poetry
(1765) 3d ed. London: J. Dodsley, 1775. However, it existed in the oral repertoire long before that date.
Edward Ives believes that the song and likely the tune were both created soon after the incidents chronicled
therein. It should be noted that there are two different tunes in use today f or "The Bonny Earl of Murray," the
older of the two being the first one we learned in Bjornsborg, and the second being the one that almost every
recording of this song uses. The oldest tune appeared more than a century before the second tune, and it is
this older tune that Ives believes dates to the actual origins of the song.
Oh, ye Highlands, and ye Lowlands,
Oh! where ha'e ye been?
They ha'e slain the Earl of Murray,
And ha'e laid him on the green.
Now woe betide thee, Huntley!
And wherefore did you sae!
I bade ye bring him wi' ye,
But forbade ye him to slay.
He was a braw gallant,
And he rode at the ring;
And the bonny Earl of Murray,
Aye, he might ha'e been a king.
And he played at the ball;
And the bonny Earl of Murray
Was the fleur among them all.
And he played at the glove;
And the bonny Earl of Murray,
Aye, he was the queen's true love.
Death Portrait of James Stewart,
the Bonny Earl of Murray
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Spring 2003
Oh! lang will his lady
Look o'er the Castle Downe,
'Ere she see the Earl of Murray
Come sounding through the town.
Some people find the various recreations enjoyed by the Bonny Earl jarringly modern, because they're
envisioning modern baseball (ball and glove). The ballad has the earl playing at "the ball" or "the Ba' " –
which begins to make sense once one learns about a very rough Scottish sport, the Ba' Game. From the
perspective of a Bjornsborg native, this game sounds very much like the sport we know as Viking Football.
According to Edward Ives, the object of the Ba' Game "…was to get control of the ball an d put it in the other
side's goal or 'hail', some distance out of town, by whatever means necessary, restraint being limited … to
'Knock a man down but don't 'urt 'im'." Ives' research in Scotland showed that this game, while varying in
th
local rules from village to village, was documentable at least as early as the 16 century, from the north of
England to the Orkneys, under a wide variety of names. The game was usually seasonal and occurred either
at the New Year or Shrove Tuesday. Prowess at this violent game indicates that the Earl of Murray was a
strong, tough man, indeed, "A braw gallant" as the song describes him – and this can be seen also from the
Death Portrait, which shows the earl as a big, muscular man. While the Ba' Game was primarily the pu rview
of the peasantry, it was not unknown for nobles to participate. In 1583 the Earl of Bothwell is recorded as
th
having engaged in a duel due to a dispute while playing in a Ba' Game; George, the 5 Earl of Huntly died of
a "fit" while playing in a game in 1576, and it is said that King James V even played in disguise.
For years I had thought that "playing at the glove" was a reference to falconry, which is indisputably a noble
sport, but Ives shows that this refers instead to a jousting game similar to riding at a ring, except that a glove
was used as the target. King James incorporated this sport in a verse of a masque he wrote:
We heir are sent by goddis above / with thir oure brether deir,
Quho ar preairid for gluife or ring / or any sport with speir .
Another interesting interpretation of these activities is brought up by the reference to the Earl of Murray being
"the Queen's love." Numerous ballads (including the "Cruel Sister" ballads earlier in this songbook) mention
courting by means of gifts of gloves and rings. Further, "riding at the ring", "ball" and even "glove" all
sometimes had distinct sexual innuendo associated with them. This train of interpretation, however, is
weakened once one realizes that the Lady of Castle Downe was not Murray's lover, but his mother.
As a completely trivial but interesting side note, "The Bonny Earl of Murray" also gives rise to the formal
scholarly term for a misheard song lyric. Misunderstood lyrics are called mondegreens, and this term
originated with essayist Sylvia Wright. As a child, Wright, listening to her mother read the ballad aloud,
believed that the lyrics said, "They hae slain the Earl Amurry / And Lady Mondegreen." Later, Wright
authored an article for Harper's magazine regarding the phenomenon, and the word "mondegreen" entered
the language.
Spring 2003
Page 19
Geordie (Child Ballad #209)
While this song exists in a variety of related forms, the one we sing was authored by Robert Burns in 1792.
There are many suggestions as to the identity of Geordie. According to some sources "Geordie" was Sir
th
George Gordon of Gight (1512-1562), 4 Earl of Huntley, the son of the illegitimate daughter of James IV.
Huntly was imprisoned for becoming "too familiar" with the Laird of Bignet's wife. His wife, Lady Ann, went to
Edinburgh to plead for his life. She was successful, but upon being freed Gordon killed his wife. Sources vary
on the exact time of these events, with some citing the reign of James VI, others the reign of Queen Mary. If
th
this was during James' reign, then this may have been George Gordon, 6 Earl of Huntley, the same
"Huntley" that was involved in the death of the Bonny Earl of Murray. Other "Geordie" variants in the Child
Ballads differ considerably, telling the tale of a less noble outlaw, setting the tale in London.
There was a battle in the north
And nobles there were many,
And they have killed Sir Charlie Haye
And laid the blame on Geordie.
And she has gotten her good grey steed,
Her men have all gone with her,
And she did neither eat nor drink
'Till Edinburgh town did see her.
He has written a long letter
And sent it to his lady.
"You must come up to Edinburgh town
To see what news of Geordie."
When first appeared the fatal block
And then the axe to head him,
And Geordie coming down the stairs
With bands of iron upon him.
When first she looked the letter on,
She was both red and rosy,
But she had not read a word but two
E're she grew pale as the lily.
Though he was chained in fetters strong
Of iron and steel so heavy,
There was no one in all the court
So braw a man as Geordie.
"Go fetch to me my good grey steed!
My men shall all go with me!
For I shall neither eat nor drink
'Till Edinburgh town shall see me!
Oh, she's gone down on her bended knee,
I'm sure she's pale and weary.
"Oh, pardon, pardon, noble king,
And give me back my Geordie!"
"Go bid the heading man make haste!"
The king replied full lordly.
"Oh, noble king, take all that's mine,
But give me back my Geordie!"
The Gordons came and the Gordons ran,
And they were stark and steady.
And aye the word among them all
Was, "Gordons keep ye ready!"
An aged lord at the king's right hand
Said, "Noble king but hear me,
Let her count out five thousand pounds
And give her back her dearie."
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Spring 2003
Some gave her marks, some gave her crowns,
Some gave her dollars many.
She's counted out five thousand pounds
And she's gotten again her laddie.
She lookéd blithe in her Geordie's face,
And said, "Dear, I've bought thee, Geordie.
But the blood would've flowed all on the green
Ere I lost my laddie!"
He clasped her by the middle small
And kissed her lips so rosy.
"The fairest flower of womankind
Is my sweet bonny lady!"
The Massacre of Glencoe
In 1692 there was perpetrated against the MacDonalds one of
history's most infamous massacres. The government wanted
to demonstrate its intolerance for any lingering Jacobite
sympathies. Two companies of the Campbell Earl of Argyle's
Regiment were billeted on the MacDonalds of Glencoe for a
week during February, 1692. Then, on orders stemming
ultimately from John Dalrymple, Secretary of State for
th
Scotland, these troops arose on the night of February 6 , and
began to slay their hosts, killing the chief MacIan, his wife, his
two sons, and in total 38 of his clansfolk. In a land
accustomed to clan feuds, what made this massacre
particularly horrific was its abuse of the ancient custom of
Highland hospitality, which bound host and guest to a pact of
mutual defense. This incident became the focal point of
Highland distrust of the new government of William and Mary
in London. It became a propaganda piece for Jacobite
sympathies that were to come to a head in the next generation
in the Rising of 1745.
Both the lyrics and music "The Massacre of Glencoe" were written and copyrighted by Jim McLean in 1963.
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Page 21
(Refrain):
Cruel is the snow that sweeps Glencoe
And covers the grave o' Donald:
As cruel as the foe that raped Glencoe
And murdered the house o' MacDonald.
They came from Fort William wi' murder in mind:
The Campbells had orders King William had signed "Put all to the sword"; these words underlined:
"Leave no-one alive called MacDonald."
They came in a blizzard, we offered them heat,
A roof o'er their heads, dry shoes for their feet,
We wined them, we dined them, they ate o' our meat
And they slept in the house o' MacDonald.
They came in the night when the men were asleep,
This band o' Argylls, through snow soft and deep.
Like murdering foxes among helpless sheep
They slaughtered the house o' MacDonald.
Some died in their beds at the hand of the foe,
Some fled in the night and were lost in the snow.
Some lived to accuse him wha' struck the first blow,
Ah, but gone was the house o' MacDonald.
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Golden Vanity (Child Ballad #286)
This ballad is Child Ballad #286 (often also called "The Sweet Trinity"). An early version of this ballad
appears circa 1635 as "Sir Walter Raleigh Sailing In The Lowlands (Shewing how the famous Ship called the
Sweet Trinity was taken by a false Gally & how it was again restored by the craft of a little Sea -boy, who sunk
the Gally. The ballad was first lisenced in June-November 1685. The tune is about a famous ship The Sweet
Trinity that was taken by a fake galley and was recovered.)" Sometimes the enemy ship is Spanish, and at
other times Turkish, depending on the version.
There was a lofty ship that sailed the Lowland Sea,
And the name of our ship was the Golden Vanity.
And we feared she would be taken by the Spanish enemy
As she sailed in the Lowland, Lowland, Lowland,
As she sailed in the Lowland Sea.
Then up stepped our cabin boy and boldly out spake he,
And he said to our captain, "What would you give to me
If I should swim alongside the Spanish enemy,
And sink her in the Lowland, Lowland, Lowland,
And sink her in the Lowland Sea?"
"Oh, I would give you silver and gold in store," said he,
"And my own fairest daughter your bonny bride shall be,
If you will swim alongside the Spanish enemy,
And sink her in the Lowland, Lowland, Lowland,
And sink her in the Lowland Sea."
Then the cabin boy jumped up, and overboard sprang he.
He swam to the side of the Spanish enemy.
And with his brace and auger in her side he bored holes three,
And he sunk her in the Lowland, Lowland, Lowland,
And sunk her in the Lowland Sea.
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Page 23
Then the cabin boy swam back to the Golden Vanity,
And he called up to the captain for to pull him from the sea.
But the captain would not heed him, for his daughter he did need,
And he left him in the Lowland, Lowland, Lowland,
And he left him in the Lowland Sea.
Then the cabin boy turned 'round, and he swam to the port side,
And he called up to his messmates, and most bitterly he cried,
Saying, "Messmates, pull me up, for I'm drifting with the tide,
And I'm sinking in the Lowland, Lowland, Lowland,
I'm sinking in the Lowland Sea."
Then we pulled him up on board, but on the deck he died,
And they wrapped him in his hammock, which was so very wide,
And they put him overboard, and he drifted with the tide,
And he sank in the Lowland, Lowland, Lowland,
And he sank in the Lowland sea.
There is a lofty ship called the Golden Vanity,
But she sails without her cabin boy whose age was twelve and three.
And we fear she will be taken by the Spanish enemy,
And sunk beneath the Lowland, Lowland, Lowland,
And sunk beneath the Lowland Sea.
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Spring 2003
Gypsy Rover (Child Ballad #200)
Although "The Whistling Gypsy" (also known as "Gypsy Rover") was written by Leo McGuire in Dublin about
1950, many people count it as a variant of Child Ballad #200, "Raggle-Taggle Gypsies." McGuire is said to
claim that the song was written on a dare, proving that he could write a popular Irish song that would not have
a sad ending.
The gypsy rover came over the hill,
Down through the valley so shady,
He whistled and he sang 'til the greenwoods rang,
And he won the heart of a lady.
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(Refrain):
Ah-di-do, ah-di-do-da-day
Ah-di-do, ah-di-day-dee.
He whistled and he sang 'til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady.
She left her father's castle gate,
Left her own true lover.
She left her servants and her estates,
To follow the gypsy rover.
Her father saddled his fastest steed,
And roamed the valleys all over.
He searched for his daughter at great speed,
And the whistling gypsy rover.
He came at last to a mansion fine,
Down by the river Clady.
And there was music, and there was wine,
For the gypsy and his lady.
"He's no gypsy, my father," she said,
But Lord of these lands all over.
And I will stay 'till my dying day
With my whistlin' gypsy rover.
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Spring 2003
I Live Not Where I Love
The lyrics for "I Live Not Where I Love" (or very similar lyics) began appearing as early as 1595 (Robert
Southwell's "Marie Magdalens complaynte at Christes death", in Saint Peter's Complaint, With Other Poems)
and became very close to the version here by the early 1600's (Morley's First Book of Ayres, 1600; Peter
Lowberry's "The Constant Lover" from a 1638 broadside, and Martin Parker's 1640 broadside).
The tune we sing today seems to first appear in broadside ballads ca. 1820. The broadside for Lowberry's
"The Constant Lover" says the ballad should be performed "To a Northerne Tune Called Shall the absense of
my Mistresse."
Come all ye maids who live at a distance,
Many a mile from off your love.
Come and assist me this very moment
For to pass away some time,
Singing sweetly and completely
Songs of pleasure and of love.
My heart is with you all together
Though I live not where I love.
When I sleep I dream about you,
When I wake I find no rest.
Every moment thinking of you,
My heart fixed within your breast.
Though great distance may prove assistance
From my mind your love to remove,
My heart is with you all together,
All the world should be one religion,
All living things should cease to die,
If ever I prove false to my jewel,
Or any way my love deny.
The world would change and be most strange
If ever I inconstant prove!
So farewell lads and farewell lasses,
Now I think I've got my choice.
I'll away to yonder island
Where I think I hear your voice.
If you call then I will follow,
Though the ocean be so wide.
Spring 2003
Page 27
John Barleycorn
Between the years of 1900 and 1910, Cecil Sharp collected a number of songs, John Barleycorn among
them. The many versions of this song are said to have come fromOxfordshire, Sussex, Hampshire, Surrey
and Somerset in England, and there are estimated to be between 100 and 140 versions. The earliest known
st
copy is of the age of James I in the Pepoysian collection, printed in black letter by H. Gorson (1607-1641).
The most familiar version, and the one heard in Bjornsborg, is the version by Robert Burns (1759-1796)
There were three men came out of the west
Their fortunes for to try,
And these three men made a solemn vow
John Barleycorn must die.
They've ploughed, they've sown, they've harrowed him in
Threw clods upon his head,
And these three men made a solemn vow
John Barleycorn was dead.
The let him lie for a very long time
Till the rains from Heaven did fall,
And little Sir John sprung up his head
And so amazed them all.
They've let him stand till Midsummer's day,
Till he looked both pale and wan.
And little Sir John's grown a long, long beard
And so become a man.
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Spring 2003
They've hired men with the scythes so sharp,
To cut him off at the knee,
They've rolled him and tied him by the waist,
Serving him most barb'rously.
They've hired men with the sharp pitchforks,
Who pricked him through the heart
And the loader, he has served him worse than that,
For he's bound him to the cart.
They've wheeled him around and around a field,
Till they came unto a barn,
And there they made a solemn oath
On poor John Barleycorn
They've hired men with the crab-tree sticks,
To cut him skin from bone,
And the miller, he has served him worse than that,
For he's ground him between two stones.
And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl
And his brandy in the glass
And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl
Proved the strongest man at last
The huntsman, he can't hunt the fox
Nor so loudly to blow his horn,
And the tinker, he can't mend kettle nor pots
Without John Barleycorn.
Spring 2003
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Karelia's Song
This is a lovely ballad by Master Iolo FitzOwen.
Oh, the Baron of Eastmarch's fair sorcerous daughter
Was enamored unseemly with the fool of her lord.
Though her duke was deemed handsome he'd a soul vain and petty,
And a dark mind as empty as last summer's gourd.
Now the fool, he was clever and he sang for the lady,
Like a nightingale piping in a green forest hall,
But his station was lowly and his body was aging,
And their love was as hopeless as if he were stone.
So the lady has led them, the fool and her husband,
To her cool, secret garden by the Midsummer's moon,
And she's danced them a spell there of shifting and changing,
And left them dumbfounded by sorcery's boon.
She has left the fool crying to the gods of his fathers,
She has led her duke laughing to her high chamber door,
And she's kept him there softly through two day's bright dawnings,
While her servants all gossiped in wonder and awe.
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Now the fool died in madness, saying he was ensorcelled,
And the duke only smiled him a sad, secret smile.
Now the duke rules his people with wit and good humor
And he sings for his lady like the nightingale's song.
And she's borne him five children, two sons and three daughters,
And they've grown straight and handsome, and sorcerers all,
And they dance in the garden and sing in the moonlight,
Like a nightingale piping in a green forest hall.
Loch Lomond
Loch Lomond is an old Jacobite air. It is based on an older folk tune "Robin Cushie (Kind Robin Loves Me)" ,
in McGibbons' Scots Tunes Book I, dated 1742. The words are attributed to Lady John Scott (1810-1900),
who adapted a broadside by Sanderson of Edinburgh (1838). The version we are familiar with today is said
to have first appeared in print in Poets and Poetry of Scotland (1876). Folklore has it that the words were
written by a captured Jacobite solider in Carlisle Castle in 1745. Two soldiers were captured and one lived
(took the high road) and the other was executed. This is a nice addition to Jacobite folklore, but otherwise is
not true.
By yon bonny banks and yon bonny braes,
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond,
Where me and my true love were ever wont to gae,
On the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond.
O you'll take the high road and I'll take the low road
And I'll be in Scotland afore ye,
But me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond.
'Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen,
On the steep, steep side of Loch Lomond,
Where deep in purple hue the Highland hills we view,
And the moon coming out in the gloaming.
The wee birdies sing and the wild flow'rs spring,
And in sunshine the waters are sleeping,
But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again
Tho' the woeful may cease from their grieving.
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Maid on the Shore (Child Ballad #43)
The "Maid on the Shore" is considered to be a variant on the "Broomfield Hill" ballad-type, in which a young
girl extricates herself from a nasty predicament by employing a mixture of guile and magic. Others have
interpreted the tale to be the story of a siren, a theme which goes back to the Odyssey, and songs featuring a
siren, whether benevolent, malevolent or just plain amoral, are found throughout Europe, though not
commonly in England.
There was a young maiden, she lived all alone,
She lived all alone on the shore-o
There is nothing she can find to comfort her mind,
But to roam all alone on the shore, shore, shore,
But to roam all alone on the shore.
‘Twas of the young captain who sailed the salt sea,
Let the wind blow high, blow low.
"I will die, I will die," the young captain did cry,
"If I don’t have that maid on the shore, shore, shore,
If I don’t have that maid on the shore."
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"Well I have lots of silver, I have lots of gold,
I have lots of costly ware-o
I’ll divide, I’ll divide with my jolly ship’s crew,
If they row me that maid on the shore, shore, shore,
If they row me that maid on the shore."
After much persuasion, they got her aboard,
They replaced her away in the his cabin below,
Here’s adieu to all sorrow and care, care, care,
Here’s adieu to all sorrow and care.
They replaced her away in his cabin below,
She’s so pretty and neat, she’s so sweet and complete,
She sung captain and sailors to sleep, sleep, sleep,
She sung captain and sailors to sleep.
Then she robbed him of silver, she robbed of gold,
She robbed him of costly ware-o.
Then took his broad sword instead of an oar,
And paddled away to the shore, shore, shore,
And paddled away to the shore.
"Well me men must be crazy, me men must be mad.
Me men must be deep in despair-o.
For to let you away from my cabin so gay,
And to paddle your way to the shore, shore, shore.
And to paddle your way to the shore."
"Well your men was not crazy, your men was not mad.
Your men was not deep in despair-o.
I deluded your sailors as well as yourself
I’m a maiden again on the shore, shore, shore
I’m a maiden again on the shore."
Well there is a young maiden she lives all alone.
She lives all alone on the shore-o.
There is nothing she can find to comfort her mind.
But to roam all alone on the shore, shore, shore
But to roam all alone on the shore.
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Martin Said to his Man
"Martin" appears with its music as one of the Freeman's songs to three voi ces in Deuteromelia (1609) and the
Fitzwilliam Virginal Book. Regarding those songs, in the life of Sir Peter Carew by John Vowell, he says "For
the King himself (Henry VIII) being much delighted to sing, and Sir Peter Carew having a pleasant voice, the
King would often use him to sing with him certain songs they call 'Freeman's Song's'." This riddle-song was
registered as a ballad with the Stationers' Company in 1588.
(Refrain):
Oh, Martin said to his man, fie, man, fie
Martin said to his man, who's the fool, now
Oh, Martin said to his man, fill thou the cup and I the can
Thou hast well drunken man, who's the fool now
I saw the man in the moon, fie, man, fie
I saw the man in the moon, who's the fool, now
I saw the man in the moon, clouting on St. Peter's shoon
Thou hast well drunken, man, who's the fool, now
I saw the hare chase the hound…
Twenty miles above the ground…
I saw a mouse chase the cat, …
Saw a cheese eat the rat…
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Men of the Picts
Lyrics Rudyard Kipling, music Leslie Fish on her album Cold Iron.
(Finish quietly, whispering the last
Rome never heeds where she treads.
line, but viciously.)
Always the heavy hooves fall
On our stomachs, our hearts & our heads.
We are the little folk, we.
And Rome never heeds when we bawl.
Too little to love or to hate.
But leave us alone and you'll see
The sentries pass on, that is all.
Just watch as we drag down the
And we gather behind them in hordes,
State!
And plot to reconquer the Wall
With only our tongues for our swords.
We are the little folk, we.
Too little to love or to hate.
But leave us alone and you'll see
Just how we can drag down the State.
We are the worm in the wood,
We are the rot at the root,
We are the taint in the blood,
We are the thorn in the foot!
Mistletoe choking an oak,
Rats gnawing cables in two,
Moths making holes in a cloak,
How they must love what they do.
Yes, and we little folk too!
We are as busy as they,
Working our works out of view.
But watch, and you'll see them someday.
No, indeed we are not strong.
But we know people who are!
And we, we will guide them along
To crush and destroy you in war.
Yes, we have always been slaves,
And, yes, we will still be their slaves.
But you, you will die of the shame.
And then we will dance on your graves.
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Pictish Headhunter. From Theodor de Bry, America, 13 vols.
(Frankfurt, 1590-1634), Pt. 1. Based on a watercolor by
Jacques Le Moyne, now owned by the Yale Center for British
Art (Stuart Piggott, Ancient Britons and the Antiquarian
Imagination [London, 1989], pl. 18).
Minstrel Boy
Lyrics: Thomas Moore (1779-1852), Tune: from the ancient (whatever that means) Irish air "The Moreen".
The minstrel boy to the war is gone
In the ranks of death you will find him
His father's sword he hath girded on
And his wild harp slung behind him
The minstrel fell! But the foeman's chain
Could not bring that proud soul under
The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again
For he tore its chords asunder
"Land of Song!" said the warrior bard
"Though all the world betrays thee
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"
And said "No chains shall sully thee
Thou soul of love and bravery!
Thy songs were made for the pure & free
They shall never sound in slavery!"
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Prince Lir's Song (When I Was a Young Man)
By Peter S. Beagle from The Last Unicorn. This song is generally sung to a Welsh tune called "The
Ashgrove" but on recordings of Beagle himself singing this, the author uses a completely different tune
altogether.
When I was a young man, and very well thought of,
I never asked aught that the ladies denied.
I nibbled their hearts like a handful of raisins,
And I never spoke love but I knew that I lied.
And I said to myself, "Oh, how little they know me,
There's part of me pure as the whisk of a wave.
I'll wait for the lady who'll see through my seeming,
And I'll know when I love by the way I behave."
The years drifted o'er me like stars in the heavens,
The ladies went by me like snow on the wind.
I charmed and I cheated, deceived and dissembled,
And I sinned and I sinned and I sinned and I sinned.
And I said to myself, "Oh, how little they guess at
The secret I shelter and savor and save.
My lady is late, but she'll find I've been faithful,
And I'll know when I love by the way I behave."
At last came a lady, both knowing and tender,
Who said, "You're not all that they take you to be."
I betrayed her before she had quite finished speaking,
And she swallowed cold poison and jumped in the sea.
And I say to myself, when there's time for a word,
As I gracefully grow more debauched and depraved,
"Oh, love may be strong, but a habit is stronger,
And I knew when I loved by the way I behaved."
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Queen Eleanor's Confession (Child Ballad #156)
This ballad is a part of the enormous body of legend that has grown up around one of the most memorable of
medieval women, Eleanor of Aquitaine. The earliest versions of this ballad were collected in 1723; the
version sung in Bjornsborg, taken from Steeleye Span, was collected by Motherwell in 1827. Some scholars
believe that the depiction of Eleanor's adultery with William Marshal in this Elizabethan ballad represents an
th
older tradition dating from the early 13 century.
While Eleanor of Aquitaine was a colorful character, the accusations in this song are unlikely to be true.
Eleanor of Aquitaine (1122-1204) outlived Henry Plantagenet (1133-1189) by fifteen years. Neither Earl
Marshal nor King Henry took Queen Eleanor's maidenhead; she had previously been married to, and had tw o
daughters by, Louis VII of France. Some versions of this ballad have Eleanor confessing to poisoning a
"noble lady", sometimes identified as Henry's mistress Rosamund Clifford. However, Eleanor could hardly
have commited this particular crime, since by the time Henry discovered Rosamund, he had placed Eleanor
under house arrest. Some have suggested that the song concerns Henry III (reigned 1216-1272), who
married Eleanor of Provence, however, by the time the third Henry grew up, the Marshal earldom was extinct.
Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine in Fontevraud Abbey
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Queen Eleanor was a sick woman and sick just like to die,
And she has sent for two friars of France to come to her speedily.
The King has called his nobles all, by one, by two, by three.
"Earl Marshall, I'll go shrive the Queen and thou shalt wend with me."
"Oh no, oh no!" cried Earl Marshall, "Such things can never be!
For if the Queen should get word of this, then hanged I would be!"
"I swear by the sun, I swear by the moon, and by the stars on high
And by my scepter and my crown, Earl Marshall shall not die."
So the King's put on a grey friar's gown and the Earl's put on another
And they are gone to fair London town like friars both together.
And when they came before the Queen, they fell on bended knee.
"What matter, what matter, our gracious Queen, you've called so speedily?"
"Oh, if you are two friars of France, it's you I wish to see,
But if you are two English lords, then hanged you shall be!"
"Oh we are not two English lords, but friars both are we,
And we sang the Song of Solomon as we came all o'er the sea."
"Oh, the first vile sin I did commit, I now will tell to thee:
I fell in love with the Earl Marshall, as he brought me o'er the sea."
"Oh, that was a vile sin!" said the King, "May God forgive it thee."
"Amen, amen," said the Earl Marshall, with a heavy heart spake he.
"Oh the next vile sin I did commit, I will to you unfold:
Earl Marshall had my virgin dower beneath this gown of gold."
"Oh, that was a vile sin!" said the King, "May God forgive it thee."
"Amen, amen," said the Earl Marshall, for a frightened man was he.
"Oh don't you see two yonder little boys a-playing at the ball?
Oh that one is Earl Marshall's son, and I like him the best of all."
"Oh don't you see yon other little boy a-playing at the ball?
Oh that one is King Henry's son and I like him the worst of all."
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"His head is like a black bull's head, his feet are like a bear."
"What matter, what matter?" cried the King, "He's my son & my only heir!"
And the King pulled off his grey friar's smock & stood in his scarlet so red.
Queen Eleanor turned in her bed and cried that she was betrayed.
And the King looked o'er his left shoulder and a grim look looked he.
"Oh, Earl Marshall, but for my oath, then hanged you would be!"
Eleanor Of Aquitaine - Effigy at Fontervault
Raven Banner
This is a really nice ballad that never quite made it into the traditional Bjornsborg repertoire, but should have.
Lyrics: Malkin Gray (Debra Doyle) Tune: Peregrynne Windrider (Melissa Williamson)
Sigurd, the jarl of the Orkney Isles, has called to his banner a Viking band,
And sailed to Dublin to make himself King of the Irish land.
But crowns are never so quickly won, the Norns, they well know –
The king of the Irish blocks our way. We must to battle go.
The raven banner of the Orkney jarl brings luck in battle, but its bearer dies.
Two men have fallen 'neath its wings today, but still the raven flies.
The jarl tells a third to take it up. The third man answers no.
"The devil's your own, take it up yourself, and back to battle go."
"'Tis fitting the beggar should bear the bag," replies the jarl, "And I'll do so here."
He fought with the banner tied around his waist and fell to an Irish spear.
He died and the Irish broke our line. We had no chance but flight.
But I'm not hurried – it's a long way home; I won't get there tonight.
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The Norns have woven a bloody web, tapestry woven of guts and bone,
And parceled it out to the Orkney host – our day in Ireland's done.
The grey wolf howls and the ravens soar above the arrow's flight,
And Odin is waiting beyond the fray for some of us tonight.
Return of the King
By Gwydion Pendderwen on Songs for the Old Religion and included in his Wheel of the Year songbook.
Dark, dark is the swirling flood,
Black, black is the stain of blood,
Deep slumbers the apple's bud
While low fires burn.
Winds blow where the night is chill,
Owls shriek from the highest hill,
She waits 'neath the moon until
Her lover's return.
Low now is the star
In its course in the sky
Each day it passes by:
Winter is not far.
Leaves fall from the dying trees,
Blown bare in the autumn breeze,
Now locked in deep mysteries
He sleeps in the earth.
Here lonely the Lady roves
Through frosty fields and groves ;
Earth waits for the king she loves,
Waiting to give birth.
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When summer was high
And the leaves were bright green,
Stags in the wood were seen,
Birds blackened the sky.
Red mantle and silver wing
Flash bright in the early spring:
True love is awakening
On the Lady's bright face.
Long winter is passing now,
Buds swell on the apple bough,
Earth thaws and receives the plow
Where lovers embrace.
All creatures rejoice
For the King and his Queen,
Wearing the garlands green,
Now speaking one voice.
Winds blow where the night is chill,
Owls shriek from the highest hill
She waits'neath the moon untill
Her lover's return.
Spring 2003
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The Rolling of the Stones (Child Ballad #49)
This is a variant of Child Ballad #49, "The Twa Brothers", collected in the Appalachians. Other variants and
alternate titles include: "The Cruel Brother", "The Twa Brithers", "The Wood o' Warslin'," and "John and
William." This version of "Rolling of the Stones" is from Maine. The first mention of the ballad in print is an
inquiry for more information by Jamieson in The Scots Magazine, 1803. The story is said to be based on an
incident in 1589 that occurred near Edinburgh. One of the Somervilles accidentally shot and killed his
brother. According to Child, another possible origin for the story took place in 1682 when a thirteen year old
boy killed his brother because his brother had been pulling his hair. However, some scholars see this as a
survival of a much more ancient theme:
"This very widespread ballad is one of the essential myths of the British people. A root-theme of all Western
mythology and religion, it may be traced back to actual ritual practice. The story is clearly found in Celtic and
pre-Celtic myth and lore, in classical mythology, and in ancient Egyptian religious allegory. The plot is very
simple, one brother kills another in competition for a woman. The murdered man is then brought back to life
by his true love. The pattern is one of Life -Death-Resurrection, found in all religious thinking from the earliest
and crudest nature-worship to the refined intellectual speculations of theology. No story could be simpler, yet
none contains such a wealth of meaning. Entire religions and vast empires have grown and fallen through
manifestations of this one myth as dogma. Yet the folk-theme has remained constant to the elements of the
act, which derives from the worship of a Mother-Lover-Goddess in whose control all life, and all death, were
held. A clear link connects this ballad with the early ritual practice of the Sacred King and his Tan ist Brother
and Successor. Although actual practices in specific times and places are known to have varied enormously,
the general pattern was this: at a certain time of the year, one chosen man superceded the present 'king'
usually by killing him. The victim represented the light part or waxing year, his successor the dark season, or
waning year. The story never ends, for the goddess brings the light-brother back to life in the spring, at the
end of the dark-brother's reign." (Bob Stewart, Pagan Imagery in English Folksong. Atlantic Highlands, NJ:
Humanities Press. 1977. p. 24)
Additionally, we discovered that "Rolling of the Stones" works when sung with the "Rose" rounds.
Will you go to the rolling of the stones,
The tossing of the ball,
Or will you go and see pretty Annie
Dance among them all?
Will you drink of the blood,
The white wine and the red,
When that I am dead?
They had not danced but a single dance,
Nor half the hall around,
When the sword that hung from her brother's side
Gave him a dreadful wound.
They picked him up and they carried him along
And laid him there on the ground,
And there he lay till the break of day,
And made not a single sound.
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Pretty Annie came a-wanderin' by
The tablet all under her arm.
She went 'till she came to her true love's grave
And there she began to charm.
She charmed the fish out of the sea,
The birds out of their nests.
She's charmed her true love out of his grave
Until he can no longer rest.
Will you go to the rolling of the stones
Or the dancing of the ball?
And dance among them all.
I will not go to the rolling of the stones
Or the tossing of the ball.
But I will go and see pretty Annie
And dance among them all.
The Rolling World
By Ruth Barrett & Cyntia Smith on their album Music of the Rolling World.
The Mother gives birth on night's longest hour,
With the frost aglow on the green.
The Child of Light is reborn as the sun
To renew us on our journey unseen.
All life in the earth begins to unfold
As the waxing light is seen.
Each seedling will sprout into its own self
To inspire us to be truly free.
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(Refrain):
And like the rolling world
The Wheel of Life is a-turning
We weave the circle dance
Upon this rolling world of learning.
The Maiden returns in blossoms so new
To embrace her Mother in mirth.
And like children we play in the sweetness of day
And rejoice in Life's return to the earth.
The maypole is crowned with ribbons so bright
As lovers meet in desire.
Thru woodlands and meadows we laugh in the sun
And the Dance of Life grows wild in the fire.
Wheel of Life. 13th cent. Fresco on the Wal
Church of St. Mary in Kempley.
The oak branch is placed in the bonfire's blaze
Their embrace dissolves into one.
Light triumphs this day, yet begins its decay
As the wheel turns we spin ever on.
The corn and the grain gleam ripe in the field
We have labored long in the soil
Now we wait as our days fade into night
Will we be rewarded well for our toil?
The harvest of plenty, we give thanks with joy
As leaves are blown from the trees
We gather to share in wonderment there
Of the Circle of Rebirth in the seed.
The Old Woman, she sits in front of the hearth,
She is wise and bids us come near
We may pass in between what is seen and unseen
For the veil of Death is nothing to fear.
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Rosemary Lane
"Rosemary Lane" is a British ballad of a servant who is seduced and then abandoned by a sailor. Variants
exist under many titles, such as "Bell-Bottomed Trousers," "When I Was Young," and "Ambletown." Some
variants are very bawdy, and there is a whole graduation ending in versions that are completely "clean". The
earliest version of the lyrics for this ballad seems to come from a broadside printed between 1790 and 1840
by J. Jennings. The tune was collected in 1893 from a bell-ringer named Henry Burstow of Horsham, Sussex,
and was published in The Journal of the Folk Song Society 4:21 (1918), with just one verse. It may be
significant that the girl works on Rosemary Lane; in Elizabethan symbolism, rosemary is the herb for
remembrance.
When I was in service in Rosemary Lane
I earned the good will of my master – or did I?
'Til a sailor came by one night for to call
and that was the beginning of my misery.
He asked for a candle, for to light him to bed.
Likewise a silk handkerchief, to tie up his head,
To tie up his head, as sailors will do,
And he said "My pretty Polly, will you come too?"
This maid being young and foolish, she thought is no harm,
to lie into bed, for to keep herself warm
But what happened there, I will never disclose.
But I wish the short night had been seven long years.
So early next morning, the sailor arose.
Into my apron three guineas did throw,
Saying "This I will give, and more I will do
If you will be my Polly, where ever I go."
Now, if it's a boy, he will fight for his king,
And if it's a girl, she will wear a gold ring,
She'll wear a gold ring and a dress all of flame,
And remember my service in Rosemary Lane
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The Saucy Sailor
According to Stan Hugill (Shanties from the Seven Seas. New York: Dover, 1987), this shanty probably
originated in the eighteenth century on shore. There are several variants both in England and America.
Sources differ as to whether it was a pumping shanty or a forebitter. Hugill says it was "most certainly" used
when pumping a ship out. The version here was taken by Steeley e Span from the Journals of the Folk-Song
Society, and was originally collected by George Butterworth in Sussex in 1907.
"Come, my own one, Come, my fair one.
Come now unto me.
Could you fancy a poor sailor lad,
Who has just come from the sea?"
"You are ragged, love, you are dirty, love,
And your cloths smell much of tar.
So, begone, you saucy sailor lad.
So, begone, you Jack Tar."
"If I am ragged, love, and I am dirty, love,
And my cloths smell much of tar,
I have silver in my pocket love,
And I've gold in great store."
And when she had heard him say so,
On her bended knees she fell,
"I will marry my dear sailor,
For I love my sailor lad so well."
"Well, do you think that I am foolish?
Do you think that I am mad?
For marry a poor country girl,
Where no fortune's to be had?"
"I will cross the briny ocean,
I will whistle and sing,
And since you have refused the offer, love,
Some other girl shall wear my ring."
"I am frolicsome, I am easy,
Good tempered and free,
And I don't give a single pin, me boys,
What the world thinks of me."
R. F. Zogbaum, "Sailor Courting Young Woman" 1898
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Scarborough Fair (Child Ballad #2)
"Scarborough Fair" is considered a variant of the "Elfin Knight" or "Outlandish Knight" (Child Ballad #2). The
version which most people know (often via Simon and Garfunkel) has lost almost the entire story, retaining
only vestiges of the tale found in other versions of the ballad. The "parsely, sage, rosemary, and thyme"
refrain date to the early 19th century, and the familiar melody can be traced to the late 19th century. An earlier
form of the "The Elfin Knight" ballad can be documented back to 1670, but differs considerably from
"Scarborough Fair". The impossible tasks in the older versions are the familiar ones, but more of the story is
revealed. In the more complete versions, a maiden is facing abduction by an elfin or demonic suitor, and the
riddle game is used either to delay the abduction, or by winning to free the maiden from the unwanted suitor.
The "Elfin Knight" ballad family overlaps somewhat the Child Ballad #1 group of ballads, often known as
"Riddles Wisely Expounded," and these in turn overlap songs in the Child Balald #10 group ("Cruel Sister").
All of this goes to show that borrowings of tune and verses back and forth between ballads over time often
makes large changes in the versions we know today.
d
d
c
c
Are you going to Scarborough Fair
Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine
Tell her to make me a cambric shirt
Without any seams or fine needlework
Ask her to wash it in a dry well
Where never spring water nor rain ever fell
Ask her to dry it on a flowering thorn
That never knew blossom since Adam was born
Now, he has asked me questions three
I hope he will answer as many for me
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Spring 2003
Parsley from the Tacuinum Sanitatis,
Österrichische Nationalbibliothek,
Vienna, Codex Vindoboniensis 2396
Tell him to find me an acre of land
Between the salt water and the sea strand.
Tell him to plow it all with a lamb's horn
And sow it all over with one peppercorn
Tell him to reap it with a sickle of leather
And bind it all up with a peacock's feather
And when he's finished with all of his work
Then send to me for that cambric shirt.
Woman Gathering Sage
Are you going to Scarborough Fair
Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
For she once was a true love of mine
Elizabethan Blackwork with Design
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Some Rival
There is a broadside in the Roxburghe coll ection circa 1656 titled "Love's Fierce Desire, etc.: A True and Brief
Description of Two Resolved Loves, etc. To an Excellent New Tune (Its Own) or, Fair Angel of England". It
begins "Now the Tyrant Hath Stolen My Dearest Away." It is much longer but there is some similarity to this
ballad. Some scholars believe the 1656 ballad (if not the tune) is based on an even older ballad.
In Playford's Musical Companion (1667) there is a different four-verse song, "Though the Tyrant Hath
Ravished My Dearest Away." Although the words are not similar to the earlier ballad, the tune is distinctly
th
similar to this one. Several 17 century ballads are directed to be sung to the tune "The Tyrant Hath Stolen".
Other versions from Sussex begin with "A Merry King (of Old England) Has Stolen" or "The Americans Have
Stolen." One version refers to the rough wooing of a maiden by Edward IV of England, so it is possible he is
the rival referred to in other versions. This version was collected by Lucy Broadwood in Surrey in 1898.
Some rival has stolen my true love away,
So I in Old England no longer can stay;
I will swim the wide ocean all round my fair breast
To find out my true love, the one I love the best.
And when I have found out my true love and delight
I'll welcome him (her) kindly by day or by night;
For the bells shall be a-ringing, and the drums make a noise
To welcome my true love with ten thousand joys.
Here's a health to all lovers that are loyal and just!
Here's confusion to the rival that lives in distrust!
But it's I'll be as constant as a true turtle dove,
For it's never will I prove false to my love.
(Repeat first verse)
Edward IV
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Spring Strathspey
Myrddyn was playing his pipes in the wood,
And it sounded so good to my feeling.
Hiree, hiroo stirred the dance in the blood,
And my fresh maidenhood started reeling.
(Refrain):
Sweetly it drew me, the song that went through me,
As if sure it knew me, a maiden-song, laughing long.
I'm sure that I hear it, oh, let me draw near it,
I want to be merrily courted in spring.
Round us the trees formed a wheel in my mind,
As if all womankind were careering.
Softly he touched me, our hands intertwined,
And we gently reclined in the clearing.
Dew-fall to star-fall he made love to me,
In a manner so free and revealing.
Swift-footed, light-footed, goat-footed, he
Played a sweet melody with such feeling.
Daylight and I wake to spring's sweet bouquet
And a glorious day of beginning.
Myrddyn has gone on his magical way,
But the equinox day leaves me spinning.
Satyr and Bacchante (1834)
by James Pradier
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Twa Corbies (Child Ballad #26)
This is a version of Child Ballad #26, for which the earliest printed version is the 1611 version in Thomas
Ravenscroft's Melismata. The Ravenscroft ballad is significantly different than the version we sing today.
The lyrics for the Bjornsborg version first appear in the 1803 Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 239. Ray
Fisher set the stark old Scottish words to an old Breton tune, Al Alarc'h ("The Swan"). For those unused to
the dialect, the two birds are discussing the pros and cons of eating a newly slain knight.
As I was walking all alane
I heard twa corbies making main
And tane untae the tither did say O,
"Where shall we gang and dine the day O?
Where shall we gang and dine the day?"
"In behint yon auld fell dyke
I wat there lies a new slain knight.
And naebody kens that he lies there, O,
But his hawk and his hound and his lady fair O,
His hawk and his hound and his lady fair."
"His hound is tae the hunting gane,
His hound tae fetch the wild fowl hame.
His lady's taen anither mate, O,
So we maun make our dinner sweet, O,
We maun make our dinner sweet."
"Ye'll sit on his white hause bane
And I'll pike out his bonny blue een.
Wi mony a lock o' his gowden hair, O,
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare, O,
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare."
Mony a one for him makes main
But nane shall ken where he is gane.
O'er his white bones when they are bare, O,
The wind shall blow forever mair, O,
The wind shall blow forever mair.
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Thomas Ravenscroft's Melismata, 1611
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Wedding Dress
This is another of those songs about which I have been able to find nothing beyond the attribution as
"Traditional". The idea that a wedding dress should be white originated in the 1840's, when Queen Victoria
was married in a white dress. Prior to that time, most cultures didn't have a "uniform" expected of brides,
other than wearing one's best festival clothing.
Well, my little Doney Gal, don't you guess
Better be making your wedding dress
Wedding dress, wedding dress,
Better be making your wedding dress.
Well, it's already made, trimmed in green
Prettiest dress you've ever seen
Ever seen, ever seen,
Prettiest dress you've ever seen.
Well, it's already made, trimmed in red
Stitched and sewed with a golden thread,
Golden thread, golden thread,
Stitched and sewed with a golden thread.
Well, it's already made, trimmed in brown,
Stitched all around with a golden crown,
Golden crown, golden crown,
Stitched all around with a golden crown.
Well, it's already made, trimmed in white,
Gonna be married on Saturday night,
Saturday night, Saturday night
Gonna be married on Saturday night.
Well, she wouldn't say yes and she wouldn't say no.
All she'd do was sit and sew,
Sit and sew, sit and sew,
All she'd do was sit and sew.
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The Widow and the Devil
This is a new ballad just entering the Bjornsborg repertoire, discovered by Lord Giovanni di Cellini. Song by
Mick Ryan, arranged by William Pint and Felicia Dale.
High upon a lonely moor
A widow lived alone
An inn she kept and e’er she slept
The pillow heard her moan
"Oh, many is the traveler
Who’s spent the night with me,
But there’s not a man in all creation
Gives content to me.
For I heard you call away down below
And I’ve come to see you right
But you must come to hell with me
If I can last the night."
She said, "You horny devil,
To your bargain I’ll agree,
For hell on earth or hell in hell
It’s all the same to me."
For some might manage once or twice
And some might three or four
But it seems to me the rarity
Is the man who can do more.
I’ll do anything to find him,
In heaven or in hell"
And as these words were spoken,
There rang her front door bell
So the widow and the devil fell into bed
And the devil was working well
And he thought before the night was out
She’d be his in hell
But when they came to number nine,
The widow cried, "Encore!"
And when they came to number 12
She boldly called for more
(Refrain):
And the wind blew cold and lonely
All across that widow’s moor
And she never, ever turned away
A traveler from her door
At twenty five the poor devil
Felt compelled to take a rest
The widow said, "Come raise your head
And put me to the test!"
At sixty-nine the widow laughed,
"Again! Again!" she cried
And the devil he said, "Well I can see
Just how your husband died."
Boldly the widow ran down the stairs
And the door flung open wide
And as she did a tall and handsome
Stranger stepped inside
She gave him bread and brandy
And when that he was fed
He said, "My dear, well have no fear,
It’s time to go to bed.
At ninety-nine the poor devil
He began to moan and weep
Oh, he said, "I’ll give you anything
If you’ll only let me sleep!"
Before the morning light was up
The devil hobbled home
And the widow still not satisfied
Once more was left alone.
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Well, she lay there and she grumbled
As she thought of ninety-nine
"If only that old devil
Could have made it one more time.
With a little more application
He might make it to the ton.
"I’ll call him up again tonight
To see what might be done,
But when she called to him that night
No devil he did appear
For the first time in eternity
The old devil he shook with fear
"Of all the pain and torment
I’ve witnessed here in hell,
Well I never knew what pain was
Till I rang her front door bell!"
The Devil Making Love to a Witch. From Ulrich Molitor's
Von den Unholden und Hexen. Constance, 1489.
Wild Mountain Thyme
Song by Jimmy McPeake.
Oh, the summer time is coming,
And the trees are sweetly blooming,
And the wild mountain thyme
Grows around the purple heather.
If my true love, she won't have me,
I will surely find another
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the purple heather.
(Refrain):
Will you go, lassie, go?
And we'll all go together
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the purple heather,
Will you go lassie, go?
I will build my love a bower
By yon clear and crystal fountain,
And on it I will pile
All the flowers of the mountain.
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Wintery Queen (Leprous White Lady)
Blood red skies in the morning,
Pitch-black heavens every night
Take them both as a warning
That the winter fire need be bright.
Fierce the blaze on the mountain
Sheds its light for miles around
While the stream and the fountain
Lie frozen and locked in the ground.
Summer's consort waxed brightly
The tall and golden-haired prince
And she came to him nightly
With pomegranate and quince.
Dead and gone is her lover
The most fair and radiant of all
Now she'll never recover
The king cut down in the fall.
(Refrain):
Now the leprous white Lady
Leads her train of the lost
Leads the spirits through glade and wood
And goodly fields of frost.
While the climbing sun tarried
As if his marches were stayed
At midsummer they married
Mortal man and immortal maid
But the king never reckoned
What he gives for the boreal crown –
To be god but a second
Ere the sun starts his course ever down.
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Through the summer and after
In the sere and brown of the fall
Days were filled with their laughter
And nights with their echoing call
But as autumn leaves smolder
And the smoke slowly drifts thru the air
So the young king grew older
And withered and died in despair
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Nine white maidens attend her
Where she treads without leaving spoor
As she seeks her defender
Who shall wear the crown once more.
By the light of the beacon
You can see her pass through the ring
She'll not weary nor weaken
Till she finds her wintertide king.
Witch of the Westmoreland
Song by Archie Fisher, 1976. Fisher consciously borrowed the form of the narrative ballad for this song,
inspired by the work of the Lakeland painter, Joni Turner. The witch's disguise as a female centaur was
suggested by Scottish tales of antlered women with bodies of deer seen wading in the shallows of the lakes in
the moonlight.
Pale was the wounded knight that bore the rowan shield
Loud and cruel were the raven's cries that feasted on the field
Saying "Beck water cold and clear will never clean your wound
There's none but the witch of the Westmoreland can make thee hale and sound.
So course well, my brindled hounds, and fetch me the mountain hare
Whose coat is as green as the West water or as white as the lily fair."
Who said, "Green moss and heather bands will never staunch the flood
There's none but the Witch of the Westmereland can save thy dear life's blood.
So turn, turn your stallion's head 'til his red mane flies in the wind
And the rider of the moon goes by and the bright star falls behind."
And clear was the paley moon when his shadow passed him by
Below the hills were the brightest stars when he heard the owlet cry
Saying "Why do you ride this way, and wherefore came you here?"
"I seek the Witch of the Westmorland that dwells by the winding mere."
"Then fly free your good grey hawk to gather the goldenrod
And face your horse into the clouds above yon gay green wood."
And it's weary by the Ullswater and the misty brake fern way
'Til through the cleft in the Kirkstane Pass the winding water lay .
He said "Lie down, my brindled hound and rest ye, my good grey hawk,
And thee, my steed may graze thy fill for I must dismount and walk.
But come when you hear my horn and answer swift the call!
For I fear ere the sun will rise this morn ye will serve me best of all."
And it's down to the water's brim he's borne the rowan shield
And the goldenrod he has cast in to see what the lake might yield.
And wet rose she from the lake, and fast and fleet went she.
One half the form of a maiden fair with a jet black mare's body.
And loud, long and shrill he blew 'til his steed was by his side.
High overhead the grey hawk flew and swiftly did he ride.
Saying, "Course well, my brindled hound, and fetch me the jet black mare!
Stoop and strike, my good grey hawk, and bring me the maiden fair!"
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She said "Pray, sheathe thy silvery sword.
Lay down thy rowan shield.
For I see by the briney blood that flows
you've been wounded in the field."
And she stood in a gown of the velvet blue,
bound round with a silver chain
And she's kissed his pale lips once and twice
and three times round again.
And she's bound his wounds with the goldenrod,
full fast in her arms he lay,
And he has risen hale and sound
with the sun high in the day.
She said "Ride with your brindled hound at heel,
and your good grey hawk in hand.
There's none can harm the knight who's lain
with the Witch of the Westmoreland."
Centaur Lady, Ric Sattler, 1999
Lively and Rowdy Songs
Songs
My division here between "Ballads" and "Rowdy Songs" is somewhat artificial. My personal observation is
that there are ballads that, in Bjornsborg, are sung with women's voices predominant, which are often soft
and sweet or laments; and there are rollicking, boisterous drinkin'-type songs that are sung with the men's
voices in the leading role, and it's these latter variety that I'm classing as "Rowdy". Some of the "Rowdy
Songs" category will, therefore, contain songs that scholars would classify as ballads, as well as drinking
songs, and anything else that should be sung, well, rowdy! A true clue to a Bjornsborg "Rowdy Sing" would
be a Moonbear "Yip!" somewhere towards the end of the song.
Black Velvet Band
"Black Velvet Band" tells about the transportation of prisoners from Belfast to Port Arthur in Van Diemen's
Land. Van Dieman's Land, the original name for Tasmania, was discovered by Abel Tasman in 1642.
Lieutenant John Bown founded a penal colony in 1803 as part of the British empire, partly due to the inability
to use the American colonies since 1775. It became a semi-autonomous colony in 1825. Convicts were
transported there until 1853, and three years later it became Tasmania, with its own elected government. The
earliest broadside versions explain that the tune to be used was "Tars of The Blanch".
(Refrain):
Her eyes they shone like the diamonds
You'd think she was queen of the land
And her hair hung over her shoulder
Tied up with a black velvet band.
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In a neat little town they call Belfast
Apprenticed to trade I was bound
And many an hour's sweet happiness
I spent in that neat little town.
Till bad misfortune came o'er me
That caused me to stray from the land
Far away from my friends and relations
To follow the black velvet band.
Well, I was out strolling one evening
Not meaning to go very far
When I met with a pretty young damsel, who
Was selling her trade in the bar.
When a watch she took from a customer
And slipped it right into my hand
Then the Watch came and put me in prison, me lads,
Bad luck to the black velvet band.
Next morning before judge and jury
For a trial I had to appear
And the judge, he said, "You young fellows...
The case against you is quite clear
And seven long years is your sentence
You're going to Van Dieman's Land
Far away from your friends and relations
To follow the black velvet band."
So come all you jolly young fellows
I'd have you take warning by me
Whenever you're out on the liquor, me lads,
Beware of the pretty colleen.
She'll fill you with whiskey and porter
Until you're not able to stand
And the very next thing that you'll know, me lads,
You're landed in Van Dieman's Land.
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Carlow
"Carlow" is a song commemorating the victory of Ireland over England in the battle of Glenmalure in the year
of 1580. Glenmalure is a valley in the Wicklow Mountains, south of Dublin. In 1580 Feach MacHugh O'Byrne
fought and won against the English army, who were lead by Lord Grey de Wilton. It was a turning-point
event, and part of a wider revolt that was initiated by the Fitzgeralds. The revolt ended in failure, but Grey's
defeat was a significant victory. O'Byre's stronghold was at the eastern end of the glen and there are some
ruins of it remaining on Ballincor Mountain in Wicklow. The song's lyrics were written by Patric k Hugh McCall
(1861-1919). The tune is alleged to have been played by Mac Hugh's pipers as he marched on Carlow after
defeating the Lord Deputy Greg's troops at Glenmalure (1580).
Lift MacCahir Og your face, brooding o'er the old disgrace
That black FitzWilliam stormed your place, drove you to the Fern
Grey said victory was sure, soon the firebrand he'd secure;
Until he met at Glenmalure with Feach MacHugh O'Byrne.
Curse and swear Lord Kildare, Feach will do what Feach will dare!
Now FitzWilliam, have a care, fallen is your star, low.
Up with halberd! Out with sword! On we'll go, for by the Lord,
Feach MacHugh has given the word, follow me up to Carlow.
See the swords of Glen Imayle, flashing o'er the English Pale.
See all the children of the Gael, beneath O'Byrne's banners.
Rooster of a fighting stock, would you let a Saxon cock
Crow out upon an Irish rock? Fly up and teach him manners!
From Tassagart to Clonmore, there flows a stream of Saxon gore.
Great is Rory Oge O'More, at sending the loons to Hades.
White is sick and Grey is fled, now for black FitzWilliam's head –
We'll send it over, dripping red, to Queen Liza and her ladies.
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Drink to the Sword
By Master Ragnar Úlfgarsson.
(Refrain)
Let's... drink to the sword that sings merry in battle.
And drink to the foemen who gallantly die.
Let's lift up our horns and drink deep till tomorrow.
Let's drink deep the mead till the barrel runs dry.
And what shall we do when tomorrow comes early?
And what shall we do when tomorrow comes nigh?
We'll take to the longships and set the sail smartly.
We'll take to the longships and set the sail high.
And what shall we do if the north wind is blowing?
And what shall we do if the north wind is tame?
By sail or by oar we will hasten to England
To pillage and plunder for fortune and fame.
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And what shall we do if a storm comes a-squalling
With thunder and lightning and rain on the sea?
We'll bail out the water and lift up our voices
And sign with the hammer so Odin will see.
And what shall we do when we land there in England
Beside a tall fortress so strong and so bold?
We'll pound on our shields till the walls are a-crumbling
Then cut down the soldiers and take all the gold.
And what shall we do if the soldiers are many
A thousand or more who will stand unafraid?
We'll sing 'em a song with great smiles on our faces
For we are but merchants who've come here to trade.
The Fox
th
th
This ballad is the modern descendant of a fox-eats-geese tune dating to the 14 or 15 century. Since the
th
th
time of Aesop, fables of the fox have been common folkloric fare. While we have a couple of 14 to 15
century texts for this ballad, unfortunately no music survives for these. The oldest "traditional" music occurs in
the Harris MS, Scotland, circa 1825.
The Fox
The Fox went out on a chilly night
He prayed for the moon to give him light
For he had many a mile to go that night
Before he reached the town-o, town-o, town-o
He had many a mile to go that night
Before he reached the town-o
He ran till he came to the farmers pen
The ducks and the geese were kept therein
He said a couple of you are gonna grease my chin
Before I leave this town-o, town-o, town-o
A couple of you are gonna grease my chin
Before I leave this town-o
He grabbed the great goose by the neck
He threw a duck across his back
And he didn't mind the quack, quack
And the legs all danglin' down-o, down-o, down-o
He didn't mind the quack, quack
And the legs all danglin' down-o
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Well the old gray Woman jumped out of bed
Out of the window she popped her head
Cryin' John, John the great goose is gone
The Fox is on the town-o, town-o, town-o
John, John the great goose is gone
And the Fox is on the town-o
He ran till he came to his nice warm den
And there were the little ones 8, 9, 10
Sayin' Daddy, Daddy better go back again
It must be a mighty fine town-o, town-o, town-o
Daddy, Daddy go back again
For it must be a mighty fine town-o
The Fox and his Wife, without any strife
They cut up the goose with a fork and a knife
And they never had such a supper in their life
And the little ones chewed on the bones-o, bones-o, bones-o
They never had such a supper in their life
And the little ones chewed on the bones.
Green Grow the Rushes, Oh!
th
"Green Grow the Rushes, Oh!" originated as a 15 century Jewish Passover chant/folksong "Echod Mi
Yodea," which appears in Latin manuscripts in 1630. The earliest known English translation of the Jewish
religious folk song appeared in the seventeenth century, but a number of distinct forms soon developed,
including "The Twelve Days of Christmas," "The Dilly Song," "The Twelve Apostles," "Children Go Where I
Send Thee," etc. American descendants of this song have been collected in the southern mountains, the
North Atlantic states, Ohio, Michigan, and in Canada. These versions trace back to Cornwall and the west
country of England, where it was popular as a Christmas carol and as a harvest song.
I'll sing you one-o!
Green grow the rushes-o!
What is your one-o?
One is all and all alone and ever more shall be so!
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I'll sing you two-o!
Green grow the rushes-o!
What is your two-o?
Two, two lily-white boys
Clothéd all in green-o!
One is all and all alone and ever more shall be so!
(Repeat for Each)
Three, three the rivals
Four for the gospel makers.
Five for the symbols at your door.
Six for the six proud walkers.
Seven for the seven stars in the sky.
Eight for the April rainers.
Nine for the nine bright shiners.
Ten for the Ten Commandments.
Eleven for the eleven who went to heaven.
Twelve for the twelve apostles.
This lively counting song is full of cryptic verses. Bob Stewart, in Pagan Imagery in English Folksong, offers
these explanations:
One is one and all alone:
- God, or Jesus Christ
Two, two, the lily-white boys, clothéd all in
green-o!
- God and Jesus
- Or: Jesus Christ and John the Baptist
- Or: the constellation Gemini (the twins) (a sign of
spring?)
Three, three, the rivals
- The Trinity (God, Jesus, The Holy Ghost)
- This explanation does not explain the term "rivals"
Four for the gospel makers:
- The Four Evangelists (Matthew, Mark, Luke, &
John)
Five for the symbols at your door
- The five books of Moses
- Or: a pentagram, a common motif on doorposts
(why?)
Six for the six proud Walkers (or
"charming waiters"):
- "Walkers" may be a corruption of "waters"
- The six water-pots used in the miracle of Cana
where Jesus changed water into wine at a wedding
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Seven for the seven stars in the sky:
- The seven stars in the constellation Ursa Major
(The Big Dipper)
- Or: the seven visible stars in the constella tion
Pleiades
Eight for the April rainers (a Bjornsborg
mondegreen had this as "Eight bold raiders"):
- The constellation Hyades (eight stars), also called
"The Rainy Hyades", and which rise heliacally with
the sun in the month of April.
- Or: Gabriel and the Archangels
Nine for the nine bright shiners:
- The Muses (does not fit with biblical or astronomical
theme)
- Suggests another constellation, but can't be the
planets, since not all of the nine planets were visible
before the development of modern lenses and
telescopes.
Ten for the Ten Commandments:
- Self-explanatory
Eleven for the eleven who went to heaven:
- The eleven apostles minus Judas
Twelve for the twelve apostles:
- Self-explanatory
I'm a Rover Seldom Sober
The earliest I've been able to track this song is Ewan McColl's 1965 Folk Songs and Ballads of Scotland.
This is probably the single most popular "traditional" Celtic song in the world.
I'm a rover and seldom sober,
I'm a rover a high degree,
It's when I'm drinking I'm always thinking
How to gain my love's company.
Though the night be as dark as dungeon
Not a star to be seen above
I will be guided without a stumble
Into the arms of my own true love.
He stepped up to her bedroom window
Kneeling gently upon a stone
He rapped at her bedroom window
"Darling dear, do you lie alone?"
"It's only me your own true lover
Open the door and let me in
For I have come on a long journey
And I am near drenched to the skin."
She opened the door with the greatest
pleasure
She opened the door and she let him in
They both shook hands and embraced
each other
Until the morning they lay as one.
The cocks were crowing, the birds were
whistling
The streams they ran free about the brae,
"Remember lass, I'm a ploughman laddie,
And the farmer I must obey."
"Now my love, I must go and leave thee
And though the hills they are high above,
I will climb them with greater pleasure,
Since I've been in the arms of my love."
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The Keeper
The Keeper is one of many English folksongs collected by Cecil J. Sharpe (1859-1924) in One Hundred
English Folksongs.
The keeper did a hunting go
And under his cloak he carried a bow
All for to shoot a merry little doe
Among the leaves so green-o.
(Refrain):
Jackie boy (Master)
Sing ye well (Very well)
Hey down (Ho down)
Derry derry down
Among the leaves so green-o
To my hey down down
(To my ho down down )
Hey down (Ho down)
Derry derry down
Among the leaves so green-o
The next doe she did cross the brook.
The keeper fetched her back with his
hook.
Where she is now you may go and
look
The keeper found a fallow doe,
As great with young as she might go.
She looked so big that he let her go.
The first doe she did cross the plain,
The keeper fetched her back again.
Where she is now, she may remain,
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Lord of the Dance
By Gwydion Pendderwen on Songs for the Old Religion. This song has a very strange history. It originated
as a melody composed in 1848 by Shaker Elder Joseph Brackett for the hymn "Simple Gifts," an easy-tolearn tune for Shaker worship extolling the virtues of a simple life. Later, in 1963, composer Sydney Carter
wrote new lyrics for Brackett's tune, called "Lord of the Dance" but very clearly a Christian song. Finally
Gwydion reworked it in a pagan version. Since that time, a large number of additional verses have been
added by various people, which I omit here.
Annunciation to the Shepherds Hours. Northern France or Flanders, c.1445. MS M.287, Fol.64v
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She danced on the water, and the wind was Her horn
The Lady laughed, and everything was born
And when She lit the sun and its light gave Him birth
The Lord of the Dance first appeared on the Earth
(Refrain):
Dance, then, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the Dance, said he!
I will live in you if you live in Me
And I'll lead you all in the Dance, said He!
I danced in the morning when the World was begun
I danced in the Moon and the Stars and the Sun
I was called from the Darkness by the Song of the Earth
I joined in the Song, and She gave Me Birth!
I dance at the Sabbat when you dance the Spell
I dance and sing, let everyone be well
And when the dancing's over do not think that I am gone
I live in the music, so the Dance lives on!
Lughnasaid Dance
Lugh the light of summer bright, clothed all in green,
Taltiu, his mother true, rise up and be seen.
(Refrain):
At your festival sound the horn, calling the people again.
Child of barleycorn, newly summer-born, ripening like the grain.
Lugh grew tall from spring to fall and sought to find a wife,
But Balor came and made his claim and swore to take Lugh's life.
The two did fight from morn 'til night, when Lugh did strike him one.
Balor's eye flew in the sky and there became the sun.
Lugh was wed and made his bed with Erin in the North.
Still they lay through many a day and soon a child came forth.
The child grew tall from spring to fall, Setanta was his name,
Until at length by valor's strength Cu Chulain he became.
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Maids When You're Young Never Wed an Old Man
Not all of the Rowdy Songs are primarily for the men…
An old man came courtin' me...
Hey ding-dorum-down
An old man came courtin' me...
Me bein' young,
An old man came courtin' me, fain would he would marry me,
Maids when you're young, never wed an old man.
(Refrain):
For he's got no fa-lorum, fi-diddle-ay-orum,
He's got no fa-lorum, fi-diddle-ay-day.
He's got no fa-lorum, he's lost his ding-dorum!
When we went to church...
He left me in the lurch.
When we went to bed...
He lay like he was dead.
So I threw me leg over him...
Damn nearly smothered him.
When he went to sleep...
Hey ding-dorum-down
Me bein' young,
Out of bed I did creep
Into the arms of a lusty young man!
Lovers in Bed. 1487-95 A Medieval French Manuscript
Illumination from the Romance of the Rose
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(Final Refrain):
And I found his fa-lorum, fi-diddle-ay-orum,
And I found his fa-lorum, fi-diddle-ay-day.
And I found his fa-lorum, he got my ding-dorum!
Maldon
By Ken Theriot
Ealdorman Byrtnoth, King Ethelred's Earl
Came riding to town in a fury:
"Come all you Saxons, companions in arms,
I will lead you to war and to glory.
Vikings have landed at Blackwater Bay,
It's revenge and our gold they be wanting –
But we'll send them our spearpoints and arrows and blades,
And we'll end this before 'morrow's dawning."
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I'm Aelfhere, the son of a Mercian lord
And I fight for my family and field.
I vowed to this man I would do what I can,
So I took up my broadsword and shield.
Byrtnoth has chosen bold Maccus and me
To hold off the Danes on the bridgeway,
And hold them we did 'til his arrogance bid him
To trade in the hunt for the melee.
Many brave warriors on both sides were lost
As we yet held our ground from the foe,
But fast flew a spear from the ranks of the Danes
And with desperate luck they did throw.
Into the body of Byrtnoth it cut
And he's sent to the ground dead and bleeding.
Seeing this, Odda's son, Godric turned 'round
And on his lord's steed he went fleeing.
Byrhtnoth. All Saints' Church
Now before me were Vikings advancing –
South Wall, Maldon.
Behind me more Saxons were flying.
One choice brings me to my family tonight
And the other means "glory" in dying.
How could I know they'd forsake us like this,
Leaving us out here alone?
But to keep fighting now would be meaningless death
And a worse sin than I've ever known.
"Now we must fall with our master," they cried,
"And we'll live on in song and in story!"
But I'll be damned if I'll die for a stake
In a misguided vision of glory.
I kept my word to Earl Byrtnoth today,
And I fought 'neath his banner and rod.
Others may shun me and sully my name
But my wife and my children thank God.
I'm Aelfhere, the son of a Mercian Lord
And I'll fight for my family and field,
But different the causes for which men will die...
And the causes for which they will yield.
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Men Of Harlech
The song "Men of Harlech" first appeared as "March of the Men of Harlech" in Musical and Poetical Relicks of
the Welsh Bards (Edward Jones, London 1784). The song was first published in Gems of Welsh Melody (ed.
John Owen, "Owain Alaw", 1860), the Welsh lyrics by "Talhaiarn", the English by W.H. Baker. It has over
time become almost an unofficial national anthem for Wales. Outside of Wales, the song has become well
known as a result of the film Zulu, which told the story of a small detachment of soldiers and their epic stand
against a huge Zulu army in southern Africa. The soldiers were from a regiment that recruited in southeast
Wales and the borders, and their heroism came to be compared with the bold exploits of their ancestors in
ancient days. The version of the song used in the film (and sung in Bjornsborg) is an adaptation developed
especially for the movie, though it uses the traditional tune.
The tale of the Men of Harlech starts in the year 1283, when King Edward I ordered a mighty castle to be built
at Harlech on the coast of Merionethshire in north Wales. Over the years, the castle stood sieges and
assaults, proving the strength of its design. During the Wars of the Roses, in 1460 the castle was held by
Lancastrian forces and endured a siege that is said to have lasted seven years. The constable, Dafydd ap
Ieuan, and his garrison held out long after other Lancastrian commanders in England and Wales had
surrendered to the Yorkist faction. It is said that Dafydd "widened his fame by replying to one summons to
surrender with the boast that he had once held a castle in France so long against siege that all the old women
of Wales talked of it; and now he would hold a castle in Wales until all the old women of France talked of it."
Eventually famine forced surrender and Dafydd handed the castle to Lord Herbert and his brother Sir Richard
Herbert on honorable terms. King Edward IV at first refused to honor the terms of the settlement but Sir
Richard Herbert, out of respect for the bravery of the defenders, offered his own life in exchange for Dafydd's
rather than see his promise broken. These defenders were the Men of Harlech commemorated in the song.
Zulu Version:
Men of Harlech stop your dreaming
Can't you see their spear points gleaming
See their warrior's pennants streaming
To this battle field.
Men of Harlech stand ye steady
It cannot be ever said ye
For the battle were not ready
Stand and never yield.
Through the hills surrounding
Let this war cry sounding
Summon all to Cambria's call
The mighty force surrounding.
Men of Harlech onto glory
This shall ever be your story
Keep these fighting words before ye
Welshmen never yield!
Harlech Castle
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Translated from the Welsh:
See the glares of fire like hell there,
Tongues of flame that writhe & swell there.
Brave men strike with full-voiced yell there:
Forward with all might.
Hark! I hear the foe advancing
Barbed steeds are proudly prancing;
Helmets, in the sunbeams glancing,
Glitter through the trees.
Armor clashing, cries of foemen,
Hear the chieftains urgin' "On men!"
Thunder of the charging horsemen
Echo height on height.
Men of Harlech, lie ye dreaming?
See ye not their falchions gleaming,
While their pennons gaily streaming
Flutter in the breeze?
Arfon sings for ever
Of her might and glory.
Wales will be as Wales has been,
So great in freedom's story!
From the rocks rebounding,
Let the war-cry sounding
Summon all at Cambria's call,
The haughty foe surrounding.
Those fires light up the sacrifices;
Cry of a dying Welshman rises.
In the cause of freedom's crisis
Bravest men must fight.
Men of Harlech, on to glory!
See your banner famed in story
Waves these burning word before ye,
"Britain scorns to yield!"
We'll not die, be conquered never.
Harlech, Harlech lives for ever
Freedom's from the Greatest Giver,
Freedom is our good.
'Mid the fray, see dead and dying,
Friend and foe together lying;
All around the arrows flying
Scatter sudden death!
See how Welshmen shouting run down
From the mountains they do come down
Like a storm that strikes at sundown
Boil up like a flood.
Frightened steeds are wildly neighing,
Brazen trumpets hoarsely braying,
Wounded men for mercy praying
With their parting breath!
Welshmen's strength has made her
Freedom's strong crusader.
Swords of Welshmen have cut deep
The hearts of the invader.
See–-they're in disorder!
Comrades, keep close order!
Ever they shall rue the day
They ventured o're the border!
The sword is met by sword replying,
Steel by steel on strength relying;
See where Gwalia's flag is flying,
Freedom's in her blood!
Now the Saxon flees before us;
Victory's banner floateth o'er us!
Raise the loud, exalting chorus:
"Britain wins the field!"
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Men of Harlech, in the hollow
Do ye hear like rushing billow
Wave on wave that surging follow
Battle's distant sound?
Rocky steeps and passes narrow
Flash with spear and flight of arrow.
Who would think of death or sorrow–Death is glory now!
'Tis the tramp of Saxon foemen,
Be they knights or hinds or yeomen,
They shall bite the ground.
Hurl the yelling horsemen over,
Let the earth dead foemen cover.
Fate of friend, of wife, of lover
Trembles of a blow!
Loose the folds asunder!
Flag we conquer under!
The placid sky, now bright on high,
Shall launch its bolts in thunder!
Onward, 'tis our country needs us!
He is bravest he who leads us,
Honor's self now proudly heeds us–Freedom, God, and Right!
Strands of life are riven.
Blow for blow is given,
In deadly lock or battle shock
And mercy shrieks to Heaven!
Men of Harlech, young or hoary,
Would you win a name in story?
Fight for home, for life, for glory,
Freedom, God, and Right!
Parcel of Rogues
The Stuart dynasty acceded to the English throne in 1603 when James VI of Scotland also became James I
of England, but their rule ended in 1714 after James II was forced to flee to France in 1688 and was
succeeded by his daughters Mary II 1688-94 (she reigned jointly with her husband William, the Stadtholder of
Holland, who reigned solo after her death until 1702) and Anne 1702-14. Two attempts were made by the
Jacobites to reinstate the "Kings across the Water" to their former glory. The first, in 1715, was never really a
serious threat to George I, a German prince of Stuart descent from the House of Hanover, then occupying the
English throne. The second, led by Prince Charles Edward Stuart (Bonny Prince Charlie), had some initial
success but finally ended in the calamitous defeat on Culloden Moor in 1746. The rebel clans always
believed themselves to have been betrayed, both in parliament and on the battlefield, by their fellow
countrymen.
Feelings ran high (and continue to do so) over the Act of Union, 1707, which suppressed Scotland's
Parliament and her existence as an independent political entity. The "parcel of rogues" were the 31 Scottish
commissioners who sold out to England, and were well rewarded with land and money for their treachery.
The Sark and the Tweed are the rivers marking the western and eastern borders with E ngland. Robert Burns,
being a placeman of the London government because of his position in the Excise, never acknowledged his
authorship of this song in his lifetime.
Farewell to all our Scottish fame
Farewell our ancient glory
Farewell even to our Scottish name
Sae fam'd in martial story
Now Sark runs over the Solway sands
And Tweed runs to the ocean
To mark where England's province stands:
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!
Act of Union, 1707
Spring 2003
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What force or guile could not subdue
Through many warlike ages
Is wrought now by a coward few
For hireling traitor's wages
The English steel we could disdain
Secure in valor's station
But English gold has been our bane:
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I would, or I had seen the day
That treason thus could sell us
My auld gray head had lain in clay
Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace!
But pith and power, till my last hour
I'll make this declaration
We were bought & sold for English gold:
Queen of Argyll
By Andy M. Stewart of Silly Wizard
Gentlemen it is me duty to inform you of one beauty,
Though I'd ask of you a favor not to seek her for a while.
Though I own she is a creature of character and feature
No words can paint the picture of the queen of all Argyll.
(Refrain):
And if you could have seen her there, boys, if you had just been there,
The sun was in her movements and the morning in her smile.
All the roses in the garden would bow and ask her pardon
For not one could match the beauty of the Queen of all Argyll!
On the evening that I mentioned I passed with light intention
Through a part of our dear country known for beauty and for style.
In this place are noble thinkers, scholars and great drinkers
But above them all for splendor shone the Queen of all Argyll!
So my lads I needs must leave you, my intentions no' to grieve you,
Nor indeed would I deceive you, oh I'll see you in a while.
I must find some way to gain her, to court her and attain her.
I fear my heart's in danger from the Queen of all Argyll!
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Ramblin' Rover
By Andy M. Stewart of Silly Wizard
Oh, there're sober men in plenty,
And drunkards barely twenty,
There are men of over ninety
That have never yet kissed a girl.
But gie me a ramblin' rover,
And fae Orkney down to Dover.
We will roam the country over
And together we'll face the world.
I've roamed through all the nations
Ta'en delight in all creation,
And I've tried a wee sensation
Where the company, did prove kind.
And when partin' was no pleasure,
I've drunk another measure
To the good friends that were treasure
For they always are in our minds.
There's many that feign enjoyment
From merciless employment,
Their ambition was this deployment
From the minute they left the school.
And they save and scrape and ponder
While the rest go out and squander,
See the world and rove and wander
And are happier as a rule.
If you're bent wi' arth-i-ritis,
Your bowels have got colitis,
You've gallopin' with bollockitis
And you're thinkin' it's time you died,
If you been a man of action,
Though you're lying there in traction,
You will get some satisfaction
Thinkin', "Jesus, at least I tried."
Rising of the Moon
By John Keegan Casey, ca. 1861.
"The Rising of the Moon" refers to the Rebellion of 1798 by the group called the "United Irishmen". They were
a group of revolutionaries influenced by the Republican philosophy of the recent French Revolution as well as
the American Revolution and sought to form an Irish Republic on non -sectarian lines. Unfortunately for them
their ideals were lost in a welter of reprisals, which touched off the very hatreds they had wanted to
supersede. The song of course, deals with events on a more 'grass-roots' level, where the "revolutionary
spirit' hardly penetrated. While people were waiting for the 1798 rising against the British crown, pikes and
guns were hidden in thatch and bogs, and hearts were beating fast. Sixty years after the rising, John Keegan
Casey wrote this song while in prison as a Fenian; he died in prison at 23. The melody to "Rising of the
Moon" is well known as "The Wearing of the Green."
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"Well now, tell me, Sean O'Farrell, tell me why you hurry so?"
"Hush me bhuachail, hush and listen," and his face was all aglow
"I bear orders from the captain, get you ready quick and soon
With your pike upon your shoulder for the Rising of the Moon!"
"Tell me, tell me, Sean O'Farrell, where the gatherin' is to be?"
"Near the old spot by the river, right well known to you and me"
"One more thing, the signal token?" "Whistle up the marching tune
For our pikes must be together by the Rising of the Moon."
Out of many a mud-walled cabin, eyes were lookin' thru the night
Many a manly heart was throbbin' for the blessed morning light
A cry arose along the river, like some banshee's mournful croon
And a thousand pikes were flashing by the Rising of the Moon.
All along the shining river one black mass of men was seen
And above them in the night wind floated our immortal green
Death to every foe and traitor. Onward, strike the marching tune!
And hurrah me boys for freedom, it's the Rising of the Moon!
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Roddy MacCorley
MacCorley
By Ethna Carberry (1866-1902). A ballad of the Irish Rebellion of 1798. Roddy McCorley, the son of a miller,
was executed after the rising, and was buried beneath the gallows.
See the fleet foot host of men, that speed with faces wan
From farmstead and from fisher's cot, along the banks of Bann.
They come with vengeance in their eyes, too late, too late are they
For young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today.
Up the narrow street he steps smiling, proud and young .
About the hemp rope on his neck, the golden ringlets clung.
There was never a tear in his blue eyes, both sad and bright are they,
For young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today.
When he last stepped up that street, his shining pike in hand,
Behind him marched in grim array, a stalwart, earnest band.
For Antrim town, for Antrim town, he led them to the fray,
And young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today.
There was never a one of all your dead, more bravely fell in fray
Than he who marches to his fate on the bridge of Toome today.
True to the last, true to the last, he treads the upward way.
And young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today.
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Song of the ShieldShield-Wall
Words: Malkin Gray (Debra Doyle) Tune: Peregrynne Windrider (Melissa Williamson)
Hasten, oh sea-steed, over the swan-road,
Foamy-necked ship o'er the froth of the sea,
Hengest has called us from Gotland and Frisia
To Vortigern's country his army to be
We'll take our pay there in sweeter than silver;
We'll take our plunder in richer than gold,
For Hengest has promised us land for the fighting
Land for the sons of the Saxons to hold!
Hasten, oh fyrdsmen, down to the river
The dragonships come on the in-flowing tide
The linden-wood shield and the old spear of ash-wood
Are needed again by the cold water-side
Draw up the shield-wall, oh shoulder companions
Later whenever our story is told
They'll say that we died guarding what we call dearest,
Land that the sons of the Saxons will hold!
Hasten, oh Huscarls, north to the Dane-Law
Harold Hardrada's come over the sea
His longships he's laden with berserks from Norway
To gain Cnut's crown and our master to be
Bitter he'll find there the bite of our spear points
Hard-running Northmen too strong to die old
We'll grant him six feet, plus as much as he's taller
Of land that the sons of the Saxons will hold!
Make haste, son of Godwin, southward from Stamford
Triumph is sweet and your men have fought hard
But William the Bastard has landed at Pevensey,
He's burning the land you have promised to guard
Draw up the spears on the hilltop at Hastings
Fight 'til the sun drops and evening grows cold
And die with the last of your Saxons around you
Holding the land we were given to hold!
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Bayeux Tapestry - The Saxon Shieldwall
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Sovay
This is a version of a ballad known as "The Female Highwayman." Some commentators are of the opinion
that the name is corrupt and must instead be Sylvie, but in Scotland it's also possibly an Anglicized spelling of
an originally Norse feminine name, Solveig. A broadside ballad from circa 1690, "the Female Frollick" has a
similar theme. This is an Account of a young Gentlewoman, who went upon the Road to rob in Man’s Cloaths,
well mounted on a Mare. She operated near Ware, in Hertfordshire, on the main London-to-York road. The
ballad tells of her encounters with victims from various trades and professions:
The next that she met was a tanner. / for loss of his money he cried,
And because he bawled in this manner, / she handsomely tanned his hide.
She took from him but a guinea, / and then met a tailor with shears,
And because the poor rogue had no money, / she genteelly clipped off his ears.
The song-collector Sabine-Gould collected a version of the song in Dorset and published it as "The Lady
Turned Highwayman" in 1890. His version of the song has Sylvie as the heroine. There is also a Vermont
variant featuring Janie. Alternate song titles include "Wexford City", "Gold Watch and Chain", "N elly Ray",
"Sovie, Sovie", "Silvia's Request and William's Denial" and "Pretty Sylvie Rode Out One Day".
Sovay, Sovay, all on a day
She dressed herself in man's array.
With a sword & pistol all by her side,
To meet her true love,
To meet her true love away did ride.
"From my diamond ring I will not part
For it's a token of my sweetheart!
Shoot & be damned you rogue! said he,
"And you'll be hanged then,
You'll be hanged then for murd'ring me!"
As she was riding over the plain,
She met her true love & bid him stand.
"Stand & deliver, young man!" she said,
"And if you do not,
And if you do not I'll shoot you dead!"
Next morning in her garden green,
Young Sovay & her true love were seen
He spied his watch hanging by her cloak
Which made him blush a lot,
Made him blush a lot like any rose.
He's delivered up his gold and store,
But still she craved for one thing more.
"That diamond ring that I see you have,
Oh turn it over,
Turn it over if your life you'd save."
Why do you blush you silly young thing?
I thought to have that diamond ring.
'Twas I that robbed you all on the plain,
So here's your gold, love,
Here's your gold & your watch & chain.
"I only did it for to know
If you would be a true lover or no.
If you'd have given me that ring" she said,
"I'd have pulled the trigger,
I'd have pulled the trigger & shot you
dead!"
Madame de Saint-Baslemont de Neuville 1638-1640
Spring 2003
Page 89
Thor's Son
Lyrics by Robert E. Howard. The Book of Robert E. Howard. Zebra. 1976. According to the Calontir Standing
Stones Songbook, the melody is by Arwyn Antarae.
Serpent's prow on the Afric coast
Doom on the Moorish town
And this is the song the steersman sings
As the dragon ship sweeps down:
They sold me on an Eastern block
In silver coin my price was paid.
They girt me with a chain and lock.
I laughed and they were sore afraid.
I followed Asgrimr Snorrisson
Around the world and halfway back
And 'scaped the hate of Galdjerhun
Who sank our ships off Skagerack.
I toiled among the olive trees
Until a night of hot desire
Blew me a breath of outer seas
And filled my veins with curious fire!
I lent my sword to Hrothgar then
His eyes were ice, his heart was hard.
He fell with half his weapon men
To our own kin at Mikligard.
Then I arose and broke my chains
And laughed to know that I was free.
I battered out my master's brains
And fled to gain the open sea.
And then for many a weary moon
I labored at the galley's oar
Where men grow maddened by the tune
Of oarlocks clacking evermore.
Beneath the copper sun, adrift,
I shunned the proa and the dhow
Until I saw a sail uplift
And saw again the dragon prow.
But I survived the reeking rack,
The toil, the whip that burned & gashed,
The spiteful Greeks that scarred my back
And trembled even while they lashed.
Oh east of sands and sunlit gulf,
Your blood is thin, your gods are few.
You could not tame a Northern wolf
And now that wolf has turned on you!
(Repeat first verse, dangerously)
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Viking Ship from Alskog Runestone, Gotland, Sweden
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Three Drunken Maidens
The earliest copy of this tune occurs in Book IV of music publisher John Walsh's 1744 collection, Caledonian
Country Dances, Being a Collection of All the Celebrated Scotch Country Dances now in Vogue, published in
London. It also occurs in a manuscript collection of song and dance tunes known as Folger Shakespeare
Library MS V.b. 410, which is ca.1760-2. The song may be much older as it's found as a Morris dancing
song. Folk singer A.L. Lloyd authored the final verse we sing, "Where are your feathered hats…" though it is
clearly derived from verses in the various manuscript texts.
There were three drunken maidens, came from the Isle of Wight,
They drunk from Monday morning till late on Saturday night;
When Saturday night did come me boys, still they wouldn't go out,
These three drunken maidens, they pushed the jug about.
In came bouncing Sally, her cheeks as red as bloom.
"Move up me joplly sisters, and give young Sally some room,
For I'll be your equal if all but we go out!"
These four drunken maidens, they pushed the jug about.
There's wood-cock & pheasants, there's partridges & hare,
There's all sorts of dainties; no scarcity was there.
There was 40 quarts of beer me boys, they fairly drank it out
And these four drunken maidens, they pushed the jug about.
Now up comes the landlord, a-asking for his pay,
"'Tis a forty pound bill, me boys, these girls has got to pay!
That's ten pounds apiece, me lads!" but still they wouldn't go out.
The four drunken maidens, they pushed the jug about.
Oh, where are your feathered hats, your mantles rich and fine?
"They've all been swallowed up, me lads, in tankards of good wine!"
And where are your maidenheads, you maidens brisk and gay?
"We've left them in the alehouse, we've drank them clean away!"
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Three Jolly Coachmen
Another modern traditional song.
Three jolly coachmen sat at an English Tavern
Three jolly coachmen sat at an English Tavern
And they decided,
And they decided,
And they decided,
To have another flagon.
(Refrain):
Landlord fill the flowing bowl until it doth run over.
Landlord fill the flowing bowl until it doth run over.
For tonight I'll merry-ay be,
Tomorrow we'll be sober!
Here's to the man who drinks dark ale and goes to bed quite mellow. (×2)
Lives as he ought to live, (×3)
And dies a jolly fellow.
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Here's to the man who drinks water pure and goes to bed quite sober. (×2)
Falls as the leaves do fall, (×3)
He'll die before October.
Here's to the maid who steals a kiss, and runs to tell her mother. (×2)
She does a very foolish thing, (×3)
For she'll not get another.
Here's to the maid who steals a kiss and stays to steal another. (×2)
She's a boon to all mankind, (×3)
For she'll soon be a mother.
Here's to the lad who steals a kiss, and runs to tell his brother. (×2)
He does a very useful thing, (×3)
For brother gets another.
The Two Magicians (Child Ballad #44)
The oldest version of Child Ballad #44 is the ballad The Two Kinde Lovers; Or, The Maiden's Resolution and
Will To Be Like Her True Lover Still, printed at London by the Assignes of Thomas Symcocke before 1630. It
contains similar elements to "The Two Magicians". Some people are offended by this song, because of the
apparent rape theme. However, the tale of two shapeshifting figures, male and female, originates in Celtic
myth, and there it is the male who is being pursued by a vengeful goddess. The tune was composed by folk
singer A.L. Loyd.
A lady sits in her own front door, as straight as a willow wand,
And by there comes a lusty smith with his hammer in his hand.
Saying, "Bide lady bide, for there's nowhere you can hide,
And the lusty smith will be your love, and he will lay your pride!"
"Why sit you there, my lady fair, all in your robes so red?
When come tomorrow at this same time I'll have your maidenhead!"
Saying, "Bide lady bide, there's nowhere you can hide,
For the lusty smith will be your love and he will lay your pride!"
"Away away, you coal black smith, would you do to me this wrong?
To take from me my maidenhead that I have kept so long.
I'd rather I was dead and cold and me body all in me grave
Than a husky dusky cold black smith me maidenhead should have!"
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So the lady she held up her hand and she swore upon the moon
That he'd not have her maidenhead for all a pot of gold.
But the blacksmith he held up his hand and he swore upon the mass
That he would have her maidenhead for half of that or less.
Saying, "Bide lady bide, there's nowhere you can hide,
So the lady she turned into a dove and she flew up in the air,
But he became an old cock pigeon and they flew pair and pair.
Cooing, "Bide lady bide, there's nowhere you can hide,
So the lady she turned into a hare and she ran across the plain,
But he became a greyhound dog and he ran her down again.
Barking...
So she became a coal-black mare as dark as the night is black,
But he became a golden saddle and he clung upon her back.
Saying...
So she became a full dressed ship and she sailed all on the sea,
But he became a bold captain and aboard of her went he.
Saying...
She turned herself to a mulberry tree, a-hiding in the wood,
But he came forth as the morning dew and sprinkled her where she stood
(Eeew!) Saying...
The lady she turned into a cloud, a-floating in the air,
But he became a thunderbolt, and zipped right into her.
Shocking...
So the lady, she ran out of tricks, and she turned into a bed.
And became a green coverlet and he gained her maidenhead.
And when she woke he took her so and still he made her bide,
And the lusty smith became her love for all her mighty pride.
(Alternate):
Then the lady she turned into a man and leered upon him good,
And he turned into a fair maiden, and she took him where he stood.
And when she woke he took her so and still he made her bide,
And the lusty smith became her love for all her mighty pride.
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Virgio (Child Ballad #14)
Vergio is an American variant of Child Ballad #14 "Bonnie Banks O'Fordie." The song variants are also
sometimes titled "Babylon" (probably due to the incest theme) or sometimes (incorrectly) as "Cruel Brother",
but none can be dated earlier than 1803. Both the tune and the words we use for "Vergio" come from
Bronson's The Traditional Tunes of the Child Ballads, variant #4, "The Bonnie Banks of the Virgie, O." This
version was originally collected in 1929. It also appears in Greenleaf and Mansfield's Ballads and Sea Songs
of Newfoundland.
d
d
c
Three sisters walked out one fine day,
All the lee and the lonely-o,
Met a robber on the way,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of the Virgio.
c
He took the first one by the hand,
He whipped her ‘round and he made her stand,
Oh, will you be a robber’s wife,
Or will you die by my pen-knife,
Oh, I’ll not be a robber’s wife,
And so I’ll die by your pen-knife,
And so he took his wee pen-knife,
And there he took her own dear life,
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(Repeat for second sister.)
(Then, repeat for Third, until her answer, which is below.)
Oh, I’ll not be a robber’s wife,
And I’ll not die by your pen-knife.
For you have killed my sisters dear,
You wouldna’ have done that if me brothers were here,
Oh, pray, what does your brother do?
Why he's a robber, just like you!
Oh, my dear God, what have I done?
I’ve killed my sisters, all save one.
And so he took his wee pen-knife,
And there he took his own dear life.
White Man's Rain Chant
By Leslie Fish, from her album Cold Iron.
(Chorus)
Hail Thor, Lord of the Thunder,
Master of the winds of the western world!
Hail Thor, hammer-wielder,
Lord of lightning, lord of storms!
d
d
c
c
Bring the wind that bears the waters…
Call the cloud and all it utters…
Fetch the flock of cloud-sheep grazing...
Lift the lash of lightning blazing...
In your arms the waters gather...
Whip the waves to rage and lather...
Draw the drops of the sky together...
Break the back of burning weather...
Join our joy of feast and singing...
Set the sky with laughter ringing...
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The Wild Rover (No Nay Never)
Found in an English broadside ca. 1790 -1840.
I've been a wild rover for many a year,
And I've spent all my money on whiskey and beer,
But now I'm returning with gold in great store,
And I never will play the wild rover no more.
(Refrain):
And it's no, nay, never. No, nay, never, no more,
Will I play the rover. No never, no more.
I went to an ale house I used to frequent,
And I told the landlady my money was spent.
I asked her for credit, she answered me nay.
Such custom like yours I could have any day.
I took from my pocket ten sovereigns bright,
And the landlady's eyes opened wide with delight,
She said, "I have whiskeys and wines of the best,
And I'll take you upstairs, and I'll show you the rest."
I'll go home to my parents, confess what I've done,
And I'll ask them to pardon their prodigal son.
And if they caress me as oft times before,
I never will play the wild rover no more!
A tavern scene of the later medieval period
(1300- 1485).
Image from British Library manuscript ADD
MS 27695 f14
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Spring 2003
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Bibliography
Bodleian Library, University of Oxford. Bodleian Library Broadside Ballads. 27 Sep 1999.
http://www.bodley.ox.ac.uk/ballads/ballads.htm Accessed 30 March 2003. [The Bodleian Library has holdings
of over 30,000 ballads in several major collections. The original printed materials range from the 16th - to the
20th-Century. The Broadside Ballads project makes the digitized copies of the sheets and ballads available to
the research community.]
Bronson, Bertrand H. The Singing Tradition of Child's Popular Ballads. 4 vols. 1959-1972. Abridged version,
Princeton University Press, 1976. [The melodies of the ballads.]
Caffrey, Nick. "Two Sisters (Child #10) aka The Cruel Sister or Binnorie." The Living Tradition, Issue 48
(June 2002). http://www.folkmusic.net/htmfiles/inart686.htm Accessed 15 March 2003.
Carney, Elizabeth. "Fact and Fiction in 'Queen Eleanor's Confession'." Folklore 95 (1984): pp. 167-70.
[Argues that the depiction of Eleanor's adultery with William Marshal in this Elizabethan ballad represents an
th
older tradition dating from the early 13 century.]
Cawte, E.C. "A History of the Rapper Dance." Folk Music Journal 4:2 (1981) pp.79-116.
Child, Francis James. The English and Scottish Popular Ballads. 5 vols. Houghton Mifflin, 1882 to 1894;
Reprint Dover, 1965. [The lyrics of the ballads.]
Corrsin, Stephen. Sword Dancing in Europe: A History. London: Folklore Society. 1997.
Dei to Søstre Dokumentasjons-Prosjektet Website (103 Norwegian Variants of Child Ballad #10 "The Two
Sisters" Norwegian Universities Joint Project). http://www.dokpro.uio.no/ballader/lister/alfa_titler/tittel_40.html
Accessed 15 March 2003.
Duggin, Crag "Goodleech" Duggin and Donal MacRorie. Standing Song Stone Book. 1980.
http://www.angelfire.com/ks/tomes2/CalontirSongs/standingsong.htm Accessed 30 March 2003.
Friedman, David (Duke Cariadoc of the Bow). "Concerning the C in SCA." Cariadoc's Miscellany. Originally
published in The Mews, Summer 1988. http://www.pbm.com/~lindahl/cariadoc/concerning_the_c_in_sca.html
Accessed 15 March 2003.)
Gray, Stephen William. "Female Highwaymen." Suite101.com Folk Music Webpage. October 28, 2002.
http://www.suite101.com/article.cfm/16912/95927 Accessed 30 March 2003.
Howard, Robert E. "Thor's Son." The Book of Robert E. Howard. Zebra. 1976. ISBN: 0-89093-163-7-1
Ives, Edward D. The Bonny Earl of Murray: The Intersections of Folklore and History. Folklore and Society
Series. 1997. ISBN 0-252-06639-1.
Leonard, Hal, ed. The Celtic Fake Book: Over 400 Songs - Traditional Music from Ireland, Scotland and
Wales Plus Irish Popular Songs. Milwaukee, WI: Hal Leonard Corp. 2001. ISBN 0-634-01727-6.
Lindahl, Greg. The Music of Thomas Ravenscroft: Online Facsimilies of Ravenscroft's Pammelia (1609),
Deuteromelia (1609), Melismata (1611) and Others. http://www.pbm.com/~lindahl/ravenscroft/ Accessed 15
March 2003.
MacColl, Ewan. Folk Songs and Ballads of Scotland. New York: Oak. 1965.
Owen, D.D.R. Eleanor of Aquitaine: Queen and Legend. Oxford: Blackwell. 1993.
Palmer, Roy, ed. Oxford Book of Sea Songs. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 1986. ISBN 0-19-282155-5.
Pendderwen, Gwydion. Wheel of the Year: The Music of Gwydion Pendderwen. 1979: Reprint, Ukiah, CA:
Nemeton. 1995.
Robert, Kirrily Robert (Lady Katherine Rowberd).Catch As Catch Can: Rounds and Catches (Class Notes
Presented at the The Second Known World Bardic Congress & Cooks' Collegium).
http://infotrope.net/sca/music/rounds.html Accessed 15 Match 2003.
Sharpe, Cecil J. (1859-1924) One Hundred English Folksongs. Ditson, 1916 & 1944. Reprint New York:
Dover. 1975. ISBN: 0486231925.
Page 100
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Stewart, Bob. Pagan Imagery in English Folksong. Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press. 1977. ISBN
0391007653.
Stokoe, John. "Notes on the Sword Dancers' Song and Interlude." Monthly Chronicle: North-Country Lore
and Legend (December 1887) pp. 462-5. http://members.lycos.co.uk/Sandmartyn/stuff/sd01.html Accessed
15 March 2003.
Ulf Gunnarsson. Ulf's Skald Page. 1998.
http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Aegean/2883/music.html
Accessed 30 March 2003. [Master Ulf has provided lyrics and scores for several popular songs sung in
Ansteorra on this page.]
Zweig, Dani (Dani of the Seven Wells). "Early Child Ballads." Compleat Anachronist #91 (May 1997).
http://www.pbm.com/~lindahl/ballads/early_child/ Accessed 15 March 2003.
Spring 2003
Page 101
Page 102
Spring 2003

Bjornsborg Songbook - Ansteorran Bardic Guild

Transcription

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