The Music of Early America Part 11
(Popular Music L-W)
"Lady Hope's Reel"
"The Lass of Richmond Hill"
THE LASS ON RICHMOND'S HILL
On Richmond hill there lives a lass,
More bright than May-day Morn,
All other maidens she'd surpass -
A rose without a thorn;
This lass so sweet, with smiles so sweet,
Has won my right good-will,
I'll crowns resign to call her mine -
Sweet lass of Richmond Hill.
Chorus: Sweet lass of Richmond Hill,
Sweet lass of Richmond Hill,
I'll crowns resign to call her mine -
Sweet lass of Richmond Hill.
Ye zephyrs gay that fan the air,
And wander through the grove,
O whisper to my charming fair,
I die for her, my love:
How happily will the shepherd be,
Who calls this nymph his own!
O may her choice be fixed on me!
Mine's fixed on her alone.
Chorus: Sweet lass of Richmond Hill,
Sweet lass of Richmond Hill,
I'll crowns resign to call her mine -
Sweet lass of Richmond Hill.
"Lass of Patie's Mill"
THE LASS OF PATIE'S MILL
The lass of Patie's Mill,
So bonnie, blythe, and gay,
In spite of all my skill
She stole my heart away.
When tedding of the hay,
Bare-headed on the green,
Love 'midst her locks did play,
And wanton'd in her e'en.
Without the help of art,
Like flow'rs which grace the wild,
She did her sweets impart,
Whene'er she spoke or smiled.
Her looks they were so mild,
Free from affected pride,
She me to love beguiled;
I wish'd her for my bride.
O! had I all the wealth
Hopetoun's high mountains fill;
Insured long life and health,
And pleasure at my will;
I'd promise and fulfil
That none but bonnie she,
The lass of Patie's mill,
Should share the same with me.
"Lavender's Blue"
LAVENDER'S BLUE
Lavender's blue, diddle diddle Lavender's green,
When I am king, diddle diddle You shall be queen.
Lavender's green, diddle diddle Lavender's blue,
You must love me, diddle diddle 'Cause I love you.
Down in the vale, diddle diddle Where flowers grow,
And the birds sing, diddle diddle All in a row.
A brisk young man, diddle diddle Met with a maid,
And laid her down, diddle diddle Under the shade.
There they did play, diddle diddle And kiss and court.
All the fine day, diddle diddle Making good sport.
I've heard them say, diddle diddle Since I came hither
That you and I, diddle diddle Might lie together.
Therefore be kind, diddle diddle While here we lie,
And you will love, diddle diddle My dog and I.
For you and I, diddle diddle Now all are one,
And we will lie, diddle diddle No more alone.
Lavender's blue, diddle diddle Lavender's green,
Let me be king, diddle diddle You be the queen.
Lavender's green, diddle diddle Lavender's blue,
You must love me, diddle diddle 'Cause I love you.
"Lilli Burlero"
("Nottingham Ale")
 |
| http://cbladey.com/eersesong5.html |
LILLIBULERO
Ho! brother Teague, dost hear the decree?
Lillibulero bullen a la, (repeated after each line)
Dat we shall have a new deputy?
Lillibulero bullen a la
CHORUS: Lero, lero, lillibulero,
lillibulero, bullen a la
Lero, lero, lillibulero,
lillibulero, bullen a la.
Ho! by my soul, it is de Talbot,
And he will cut all de English throat.
Though, by my soul, de English do praat,
De law's on dare side, and Creish knows what.
But if dispence do come from de Pope,
We'll hang Magna Charta and dem in a rope.
And de good Talbot is made a Lord,
And with brave lads is coming abroad.
Who all in France have taken a sware,
Dat dey will have no Protestant heir.
Ara! but why does he stay behind?
Ho' by my soul, 'tis a Protestant wind!
But see, de Tyrconnel is now come ashore,
And we shall have commissions galore.
And he dat will not go to mass
Shall be turn out, and look like an ass.
But now de hereticks all go down,
By Creish and St. Patrick, de nation's our own.
Dare was an old prophecy found in a bog,
"Ireland shall be ruled by an ass and a dog".
And now dis prophecy is come to pass,
For Talbot's de dog, and James is de ass.
"Lord Rendal"
("Lord Randal My Son")
 |
| "Lord Randal" by Arthur Rackham, from Some British ballads (published in about 1919) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lord_Randall |
LORD RENDAL
Where have you been all day Henry my son?
Where have you been all day my beloved one?
Fields dear mother, Fields dear mother,
O make my bed for I've pains in my head and I want to lie down.
What did you have to eat Henry my son?
What did you have to eat my beloved one?
Snakes dear mother, Snakes dear mother,
O make my bed for I've pains in my head and I want to lie down.
What colour where the snakes Henry my son?
What colour where the snakes my beloved one?
Green and yellow, Green and yellow,
O make my bed for I've pains in my head and I want to lie down.
How shall I make your bed Henry my son?
How shall I make your bed my beloved one?
Long and narrow, Long and narrow,
O make my bed for I've pains in my head and I want to lie down.
Where shall I make your bed Henry my son?
Where shall I make your bed my beloved one?
In the Church-yard, In the Church-yard,
O make my bed for I've pains in my head and I want to lie down.
"Maggie Lauder"
MAGGIE LAUDER
Wha wadna be in love Wi' bonnie Maggie Lauder?
A piper met her guan to Fife, And pier'd what was't they ca'd her;
Right scornfully she answer'd him, Began you hall shaker,
Jog on your gate, ye bladderscate, My name is Maggie Lauder.
Maggie, quo he, and by my bags I'm fidgin' fain to see the;
Sit down by me, my bonnie bird, In troth I winna steer thee:
My name is Rob the Ranter;
The lasses loup as they were daft, When I blaw up my chanter.
Piper, quo Meg, hae ye your bags, Or is your drone in order?
If ye be Rob, I've heard of you, Live ye upon the border?
The lasses a', baith far and near Hae hear o' Rob the Ranter;
I'll shake my foot wi' right goo-will, Fig ye'll blaw up your chanter.
Then to his bags he flew wi' speed, About the drone he twisted;
Meg up and walloped o'er the gree, For brawly could she frisk it.
Weel done, quo' he: play up, quo' she: Weel bobb'd, quo Rob the Ranter;
It's worth my while to play, indeed, When I hae sic a dancer.
Weel hae you play'd your part, quo' Meg, Your cheeks are like the crimson;
There's nane in Scotland plays sae weel, Sin' we lost Habby Simson.
I've live'd in Fife, baith maid and wife, These ten years and a quarter;
Gin ye should come to Anster fair, Spier ye for Maggie Lauder.
"Malbrouk" 1722
("For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" or
"The Bear Went Over the Mountain")
"Mattie Groves"
MATTIE GROVES
Hi ho, hi ho, on high holiday, The best day of the year
Little Mattie Groves to church did go, some holy words to hear
Some holy words to hear
He saw two ladies dressed in black, as they came into view
Lord Arlen's wife was gaily clad, a flower among the few
A flower among the few
She tripped up to Mattie Groves, her eyes so low cast down
Sayin stay, oh stay, come with me pray as you pass through the town
As you pass through the town
I cannot go, I dare not go, I fear it would mean my life
For I see by the little ring you wear you are Lord Arlen's wife
You're the great Lord Arlen's wife.
This may be false, this may be true, I can't deny it all
Lord Arlen's gone to consecrate King Henry at Whitehall
King Henry at Whitehall
Her little page did listen well to all that they did say
And err the sun did rise again, he quickly sped away
He quickly sped away
And he did run the King's highway, he swam across the tide
He ne'er did stop until he came to the great Lord Arlen's side
To the great Lord Arlen's side
How now, how now my bully boy? What news brings you to me?
My castle burnt, my tenants robbed, my lady with baby?
My lady with baby?
No harm has come to your house and lands, his little page did say
But Mattie Groves is bedded up with your fair lady gay
With your fair lady gay
Lord Arlen called his merry men, he bade them with him go
He bade them nary a word to speak and nary a horn to blow
And nary a horn to blow
Now among Lord Arlen's merry men was one who wished no ill
And the bravest lad among the crew blew his horn so loud and shrill
Blew his horn so loud and shrill
What's this, what's this cried Mattie Groves, what's this that I do hear
It must be Lord Arlen's merry men, the ones that I do fear
The ones that I do fear
Lie down, lie down little Mattie Groves and keep my back from cold
It's only Lord Arlen's merry men calling the sheep to fold
Calling the sheep to fold
Little Mattie Groves he did lie down, he took a nap asleep
And when he awoke Lord Arlen was standing at his feet
A-standin at his feet
How now, how now, my bully boy, how do you like my sheets?
And how do you like your fair young bride who lies in your arms asleep?
Who lies in your arms asleep?
Oh it's very well I like your bed and it's fine I like your sheets
But it's best I like your fair young bride who lies in my arms asleep
Who lies in my arms asleep
Rise up, rise up little Mattie Groves as fast as e'er ye can
In England it shall ne'er be said that I slew a sleepin man
I slew a sleepin man
Now the first to struck little Mattie struck, he hurt Lord Arlen sore
But the next to stroke Lord Arlen struck little Mattie struck no more
Little Mattie struck no more
How now, how now my fair young bride, draw on your pretty clothes
Now tell me do you like me best, or like your Mattie Groves
Or the dying Mattie Groves
She picked up Mattie's dying head she kissed from cheek to chin
Said it's Mattie Groves I'd rather have than Lord Arlen and all his kin
Lord Arlen and all his kin
Woe is me, woe is me, why staid ye not your hand
For you have killed the fairest lad
In all of England
-----------
MATTIE GROVES (Different Lyrics)
A holiday, a holiday, the first one of the year
Lord Arlen's wife came into church the gospel for to hear.
And when the meeting it was done she cast her eyes about
And there she saw little Mattie Groves, walking in the park.
Come home with me little Mattie Groves, come home with me tonight
Come home with me little Mattie Groves and sleep with me tonight.
Oh I can't come home, I won't come home and sleep with you tonight
By the rings on your fingers I can tell you are Lord Arlen's wife.
'Tis true I am Lord Arlen's wife, Lord Arlen's not at home
He is out to the far corn fields, bringing the yearlings home.
And the sundt who was standing by and hearing what was said
He saw Lord Arlen, he would know, before the sun would set.
And in his hurry to carry the news, he filled his breast and ran
And when he came to the broad mill stream he took off his shoes and swam
Little Mattie Groves, he lay down and took a little sleep
When he awoke Lord Arlen, was standing at his feet
Saying how do you like my feather bed and how do you like my sheets
And how do you like my lady, who lies in your arms asleep.
Oh well I like your feather bed and well I like your sheets
But better I like your lady maid who lies in my arms asleep.
Well Get Up! Get Up! Lord Arlen cried, Get Up as quick as you can
It'll never be said in fair England I slew a naked man!
Oh I won't get up, I won't get up, I can't get up for my life
For you have two long beaten swords and I have but a pocket knife.
Well it's true I have two beaten swords, they cost me deep in the purse
But you will have the better of them and I will have the worst.
And you will strike the very first blow and strike it like a man
I will strike the very next blow and I'll kill you if I can.
So Mattie struck the very first blow and he hurt Lord Arlen sore
Lord Arlen struck the very next blow and Mattie struck no more.
And then Lord Arlen he took his wife, he sat her on his knee
Saying who do you like the best of us, Mattie Groves or me.
And then spoke up his own dear wife never heard to speak so free
I'd rather kiss one dead Mattie's lips than you and your finery.
Lord Arlen he jumped up and loudly he did bawl
He stuck his wife right through the heart and pinned her against the wall.
A grave, a grave, Lord Arlen cried, to put these lovers in
But bury my lady at the top for she was of noble kin.
"Merrily Kiss the Quaker's Wife"
("Merrily Dance the Quaker")
"The Merry Milkmaids"
The Happy Marriage
Devonshire House
Excuse Me
The Merry Milk-Maids (by Playford)
"Mist Covered Mountains"
 |
| Thomas Moran: Canyon Mists Zoroaster Peak [Grand Canyon, Arizona] |
MIST COVERED MOUNTAINS
CHORUS: Oh ro soon shall I see them;
Oh he ro see them oh see them.
Oh ro soon shall I see them the
mist covered mountains of home.
There shall I visit the place of my birth
And they'll give me a welcome the warmest on earth
All so loving and kind full of music and mirth,
In the sweet sounding language of home.
CHORUS: Oh ro soon shall I see them;
Oh he ro see them oh see them.
Oh ro soon shall I see them the
mist covered mountains of home.
There shall I gaze on the mountains again,
On the fields and the woods and the burns and the glens,
Away 'mong the corries beyond human ken
In the haunts of the deer I will roam
CHORUS: Oh ro soon shall I see them;
Oh he ro see them oh see them.
Oh ro soon shall I see them the
mist covered mountains of home.
Hail to the mountains with summits of blue,
To the glens with their meadows of sunshine and dew.
To the women and men ever constant and true,
Ever ready to welcome one home.
CHORUS: Oh ro soon shall I see them;
Oh he ro see them oh see them.
Oh ro soon shall I see them the
mist covered mountains of home.
"Mr Beveridge's Maggot"
 |
| http://www.izaak.unh.edu/nhltmd/indexes/dancingmaster/Dance/Play4199.htm |
"My Days Have Been So Wond'rous Free"
"My Gen'rous Heart Disdains"
by Francis Hopkinson
MY GEN'ROUS HEART DISDAINS
My gen'rous heart disdains
The slave of love to be,
I scorn his servile chains, And boast my liberty.
This whining And pining And wasting with care,
Are not to my taste, be she ever so fair.
Shall a girl's capricious frown
Sink my noble spirits down?
Shall a face of white and red
Make me droop my silly head?
Shall I set me down and sigh
For an eye-brow or an eye?
For a braided lock of hair,
Curse my fortune and despair?
My gen'rous heart disdains
Still uncertain is to-morrow,
Not quite certain is to-day---
Shall I waste my times in sorrow?
Shall I languish life away?
All because a cruel maid,
Hath not Love with Love repaid.
My gen'rous heart disdains
"My Love Is Gone to Sea"
by Francis Hopkinson
by Francis Hopkinson
MY LOVE IS GONE TO SEA
My love is gone to sea,
Whilst I his absence mourn,
No joy shall smile on me
Until my love return.
He ask'd me for his bride,
And many vows he swore;
I blush'd---and soon comply'd,
My heart was his before.
One little month was past,
And who so blest as we!
The summons came at last,
And Jemmy must to sea.
I saw his ship so gay
Swift fly the wave-worn shore;
I wip'd my tears away---
And saw his ship no more.
When clouds shut in the sky
And storms around me bowl;
When livid lightnings fly,
And threat'ning thunders roll;
All hopes of rest are lost,
No slumbers [illeg.] me?
My anxious thoughts are tost
With Jemmy on the sea.
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| Lithograph of Nancy Dawson c 1760 |
 |
| http://www.mustrad.org.uk/articles/kid_txt2.htm |
NANCY DAWSON
Of all the girls in our town
The black, the fair, the red, the brown
That dance and prance it up and down,
There's none like Nancy Dawson
CHORUS: Her easy mien, her shape so neat
She foots, she trips, she looks so sweet
Her every motion's so complete
I die for Nancy Dawson
"Newcastle"
"Nottingham Ale"
("Liliburlero")
NOTTINGHAM ALE
When Venus, the goddess of beauty and love
Arose from the broth that swam on the sea
Minerva sprang out, from the cranium of Jove
A coy, sullen dame, as most authors agree
But Bacchus, they tell us, that prince of good fellas
Was Jupiter's son, pray attend to my tale
And those that dost patter, mistake not the matter
He sprang from a bottle of Nottingham Ale!
CHORUS: Nottingham Ale, boys, Nottingham Ale
No liquor on earth is like Nottingham Ale!
Nottingham Ale, boys, Nottingham Ale
No liquor on earth is like Nottingham Ale!
Now you bishops and deacons, priests, curates and vicars
When once you have tasted, you'll know it is true
That Nottingham Ale, it's the best of all liquors
And none understand what is good as do you
It dispels every vapor, saves pen, ink and paper
When you've a mind from your pulpit to rail
It can open your throats, you can preach without notes
When inspired by a bottle of Nottingham Ale
CHORUS: Nottingham Ale, boys, Nottingham Ale
No liquor on earth is like Nottingham Ale!
Nottingham Ale, boys, Nottingham Ale
No liquor on earth is like Nottingham Ale!
Now you doctors who more executions have done
With powder and potion and bolus and pill
Than hangman with noose, a soldier with gun
A miser with famine, a lawyer with quill
To dispatch us the quicker, forbid us malt liquor
'Til our bodies consume and our faces grow pale
But mind who he pleases, what cures all diseases
'Tis a comforting bottle of Nottingham Ale
CHORUS: Nottingham Ale, boys, Nottingham Ale
No liquor on earth is like Nottingham Ale!
Nottingham Ale, boys, Nottingham Ale
No liquor on earth is like Nottingham Ale!
"Nonesuch"
("A La Mode De France")
"Oranges and Lemons"
ORANGES AND LEMONS
"Oranges and lemons,"
say the bells of St. Clement's
"You owe me five farthings,"
say the bells of St. Martin's
"When will you pay me?"
ask the bells of Old Bailey"
When I grow rich,"
say the bells of Shoreditch
"When will that be?"
ask the bells of Stepney
"I do not know,"
says the great bell of Bow
Here comes a candle
to light you to bed
And here comes a chopper
to chop off your head!
"Over The Hills and Far Away"
from the Beggar's Opera 1723
http://abcnotation.com/getResource/downloads/media/b360-over-the-hills-and-far-away.mid?a=trillian.mit.edu/~jc/music/abc/mirror/community.codemasters.com/
OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY
Hark now the drums beat up again
For all true soldier gentlemen
So let us list and march I say
And go over the hills and far away
Chorus:
Over the hills, and o'er the main
To Flanders, Portugal and Spain
Queen Anne commands and we'll obey
And go over the hills and far away
There's twenty shillings on the drum
For him that with us freely comes
'Tis volunteers shall win the day
Over the hills and far away
Chorus:
Over the hills, and o'er the main
To Flanders, Portugal and Spain
Queen Anne commands and we'll obey
And go over the hills and far away
Come gentlemen that have a mind
To serve a queen that's good and kind
Come list and enter in to pay
And go over the hills and far away
Chorus:
Over the hills, and o'er the main
To Flanders, Portugal and Spain
Queen Anne commands and we'll obey
And go over the hills and far away
And we shall live more happy lives
Free of squalling brats and wives
Who nag and vex us every day
So its over the hills and far away
Chorus:
Over the hills, and o'er the main
To Flanders, Portugal and Spain
Queen Anne commands and we'll obey
And go over the hills and far away
Prentice Tom may well refuse
To wipe his angry master's shoes
For now he's free to run and play
Over the hills and far away
Chorus:
Over the hills, and o'er the main
To Flanders, Portugal and Spain
Queen Anne commands and we'll obey
And go over the hills and far away
No more from sound of drum retreat
When Marlborough and Galway beat
The French and Spaniards every day
Over the hills and far away.
Chorus:
Over the hills, and o'er the main
To Flanders, Portugal and Spain
Queen Anne commands and we'll obey
And go over the hills and far away
"Packington's Pound"
"Paddy Whack"
"Parson's Farewell"
"Patriotic Diggers"
By Samuel Woodward
THE PATRIOTIC DIGGERS
Enemies beware. Keep a proper distance,
Else we'll make you stare at our firm resistance.
Let alone the lads who are freedom tasting
Don't forget, our dads gave you once a basting.
To protect our rights 'gainst your flints and triggers
See on yonder heights our patriotic diggers.
Men of ev'ry age, color, rank profession
Ardently engage, labor in succession.
Chorus: Pickaxe, shovel, spade, crowbar, hoe and barrow
Better not invade. Yankees have the marrow!
Scholars leave their schools with patriotic teachers,
Farmers sieze their tools headed by their preachers.
How they break the soil! Brewers, butchers, bakers
Here the doctors toil, there the undertakers.
Bright Apollo's sons leave their pipe and tabor
Mid the roar of guns, join the martial labor.
Round the embattled plain in sweet concord rally
And in freedom's strain sing the foe's finale.
Better not invade. Don't forget the spirit
Which our dads displayed and their sons inherit.
If you still advance friendly caution slighting
You may get by chance a bellyful of fighting!
Plumbers, founders, dyers, tinmen, turners shavers,
Sweepers, clerks and criers, jewelers and engravers.
Clothiers, drapers, players, cartmen, hatters, tailors
Gaugers, sealers, weighers, carpenters and sailors!
"Pioneers' March"
"Pop Goes the Weasel"
"Prince Rupert's March"
"Roast Beef of Old England" 1731
by Henry Fielding for his play The Grub-Street Opera
ROAST BEEF OF OLD ENGLAND
When mighty Roast Beef was the Englishman's food,
It ennobled our brains and enriched our blood.
Our soldiers were brave and our courtiers were good
Oh! the Roast Beef of old England,
And old English Roast Beef!
But since we have learnt from all-vaporing France
To eat their ragouts as well as to dance,
We're fed up with nothing but vain complaisance
Oh! the Roast Beef of Old England,
And old English Roast Beef!
Our fathers of old were robust, stout, and strong,
And kept open house, with good cheer all day long,
Which made their plump tenants rejoice in this song--
Oh! The Roast Beef of old England,
And old English Roast Beef!
But now we are dwindled to, what shall I name?
A sneaking poor race, half-begotten and tame,
Who sully the honors that once shone in fame.
Oh! the Roast Beef of Old England,
And old English Roast Beef!
When good Queen Elizabeth sat on the throne,
Ere coffee, or tea, or such slip-slops were known,
The world was in terror if e'er she did frown.
Oh! The Roast Beef of old England,
And old English Roast Beef!
In those days, if Fleets did presume on the Main,
They seldom, or never, return'd back again,
As witness, the Vaunting Armada of Spain.
Oh! The Roast Beef of Old England,
And old English Roast Beef!
Oh then we had stomachs to eat and to fight
And when wrongs were cooking to do ourselves right.
But now we're a . . . I could, but goodnight!
Oh! the Roast Beef of Old England,
And old English Roast Beef!
"Rufty Tufty"
 |
| ''Rufty Tufty'' ~Barham~ http://awaywiththefaerys-kernowwitch.blogspot.com/2011/04/ dance-with-faeries-pixes-amongst.html |
http://round.soc.srcf.net/system/files/rufty.pdf
http://www.thedansemacabre.org/Songbook/morguesongs/rufty_tufty.jpg
http://www.thedansemacabre.org/Songbook/morguesongs/rufty_tufty.jpg
"Sally in our Alley"
SALLY IN OUR ALLEY
Of all the girls that are so smart
There's none like pretty Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
There is no lady in the land
Is half so sweet as Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
Her father he makes cabbage-nets,
And through the streets does cry 'em;
Her mother she sells laces long
To such as please to buy 'em;
But sure such folks could ne'er beget
So sweet a girl as Sally!
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
When she is by, I leave my work,
I love her so sincerely;
My master comes like any Turk,
And bangs me most severely:
But let him bang his bellyful,
I'll bear it all for Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
Of all the days that's in the week
I dearly love but one day—
And that's the day that comes betwixt
A Saturday and Monday;
For then I'm drest all in my best
To walk abroad with Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
My master carries me to church,
And often am I blamèd
Because I leave him in the lurch
As soon as text is namèd;
I leave the church in sermon-time
And slink away to Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
When Christmas comes about again,
O, then I shall have money;
I'll hoard it up, and box it all,
I'll give it to my honey:
I would it were ten thousand pound,
I'd give it all to Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
My master and the neighbors all
Make gave of me and Sally,
And, but for her, I'd better be
A slave and row a galley;
But when my seven long years are out,
O, then I'll marry Sally;
O, then we'll wed, and then we'll bed—
But not in our alley!
"Shule Aroon"
("Johnny's Gone for a Soldier")
SHULE AROON
I wish I were on yonder hill
'Tis there I'd sit and I'd cry my fill,
And ev'ry tear would turn a mill,
And a blessing walk with you, my love
And a blessing walk with you, my love.
His hair was black and his eyes were blue
His arms were strong and his words were true
I wish in my heart that I were with you
And a blessing walk with you, my love.
Chorus:
Siúil, siúil, siúil a ruin
Siúil go sochair agus siúil go ciuin
Siúil go doras agus ealaigh liom
Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan
I'll sell my rod, I'll sell my reel
I'll sell my only spinning wheel
To by my love a sword of steel
And a blessing walk with you, my love.
Then the king, he was forced to flee
Took my love across the sea
I wish in my heart he were here with me
And a blessing walk with you, my love.
I'll dye my petticoats, I'll dye them red
And 'round the world I'll beg my bread,
Until my parents shall wish me dead
And a blessing walk with you, my love.
Come, come, come O love,
Quickly come to me, softly move,
Come to the door and away we'll flee,
And safe forever may my darling be.
More verses:
I wish, I wish, I wish in vain
I wish I had my heart again,
And vainly think I'd not complain
And a blessing walk with you, my love.
But now my love has gone to France
To try his fortune to advance.
If he e'er come back, 'tis but a chance
And a blessing walk with you, my love.
"Scotch Cap"
("Edinburgh Castle")
("Edinburgh Castle")
 |
| Edinburgh Castle, Scotland |
 |
| http://www.izaak.unh.edu/nhltmd/indexes/dancingmaster/Dance/Play1439.htm |
"See Down Maria's Blushing Cheek"
by Francis Hopkinson
SEE DOWN MARIA'S BLUSHING CHEEK
See down Maria's blushing cheek
The tears of soft compassion flow;
Those tears a yielding heart bespeak---
A heart that feels for others' woe.
May not those drops, that frequent fall,
To my fond hope propitious prove,
The heart that melts at Pity's call
Will own the softer voice of love.
Earth ne'er produced a gem so rare
Nor wealthy ocean's ample space
So rich a pearl---as that bright tear
That lingers on Maria's face.
So hangs upon the morning rose
The chrystal drop of heav'n refin'd,
A while with trembling lustre glows---
Is gone---and leaves no stain behind.
"Sellenger's Round"
"The Spanish Lady"
SPANISH LADY
Farewell and adieu to you Spanish ladies,
Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain;
We’ve received orders to sail for Old England,
And we hope very shortly to see you again.
Chorus: We’ll rant and we’ll roar like true British sailors,
We’ll rant and we’ll roar all o’er the salt seas;
Till we strike soundings in the channel of Old England,
From Ushant to Scilly is forty-five leagues.
We hove our ship to with the wind at south-west boys,
We hove our ship to for to take soundings clear;
In thirty-five fathoms with a fine sandy bottom,
And it’s straight up the channel to England we’ll steer.
The first land we made was a point called the Dodman,
Next Rame Head off Plymouth, Start, Portland and Wight;
We sailed then by Beachy, by Fairlight and Dungeness,
Then bore straight away for the South Foreland light.
The signal was made for the grand fleet to Anchor,
We clewed up our topsl’s, took in tacks and sheets;
We brailed up our spanker, let fly our cat stoppers,
And anchored ahead of the finest of fleets.
Let every man here take up his full bumper,
Let every man here take up his full bowl;
And we will be jolly and drown melancholy,
And drink to each loyal and true-hearted soul.
Chorus: We’ll rant and we’ll roar like true British sailors,
We’ll rant and we’ll roar all o’er the salt seas;
Till we strike soundings in the channel of Old England
From Ushant to Scilly is forty-five leagues.
"Speed the Plow"
 |
| Farmer Plowing by Granger http://fineartamerica.com/featured/farmer-plowing-granger.html |
"Springfield Mountain"
("The Pesky Serpent" or "Rattlesnake Mountain")
("The Pesky Serpent" or "Rattlesnake Mountain")
 |
| Springfield Mountain in Wilbraham, Massachusetts http://www.boudillion.com/oakhill/rattlesnakesong.htm |
ON SPRINGFIELD MOUNTAIN
On Springfield mountain there did dwell
A handsome youth I knew him well
This handsome youth one day did go
Down to the meadow for to mow
Tu-rudy-nay, tu-rudy-new, tu-rudy-nay-tu-rudy-new
Tu-rudy-nay, tu-rudy-new, tu-rudy-nay-tu-rudy-new
He had not mowed quite 'round the field
When a poison serpent bit his heel
They took him home to Molly dear
Which made him feel so very queer
Tu-rudy-nay, tu-rudy-new, tu-rudy-nay-tu-rudy-new
Tu-rudy-nay, tu-rudy-new, tu-rudy-nay-tu-rudy-new
Now Molly had two ruby lips
With which the poison she did sip
But Molly had a rotten tooth
And so the poison killed them both
Tu-rudy-nay, tu-rudy-new, tu-rudy-nay-tu-rudy-new
Tu-rudy-nay, tu-rudy-new, tu-rudy-nay-tu-rudy-new
"There Was a Jolly Miller"
THERE WAS A JOLLY MILLER
There was a jolly miller once
Lived on the river Dee;
He work'd and sang from morn till night,
No lark more blithe than he.
And this the burden of his song
Forever used to be
I care for nobody, no, not I,
If nobody cares for me.
The reason why he was so blithe,
He once did thus unfold
The bread I eat my hands have earn'd;
I covet no man's gold;
I do not fear next quarter-day;
In debt to none I be.
I care for nobody, no, not I,
If nobody cares for me.
A coin or two I've in my purse,
To help a needy friend;
A little I can give the poor,
And still have some to spend.
Though I may fail, yet I rejoice,
Another's good hap to see.
I care for nobody, no, not I,
If nobody cares for me.
So let us his example take,
And be from malice free;
Let every one his neighbor serve,
As served he'd like to be.
And merrily push the can about
And drink and sing with glee;
If nobody cares a do it for us,
Why not a do it care we.
"Tobacco's But An Indian Weed"
TOBACCO'S BUT AN INDIAN WEED
1. Tobacco's but an Indian weed,
Grows green in the morn, cut down at eve;
It shows our decay,
We are but clay;
Think of this when you smoke tobacco!
2. The pipe that is so lily white,
Wherein so many take delight,
It's broken with a touch,
Man's life is such;
Think of this when you take tobacco!
3. The pipe that is so foul within,
It shows man's soul is stained with sin;
It doth require
To be purred with fire;
Think of this when you smoke tobacco!
4. The dust that from the pipe doth fall,
It shows we are nothing but dust at all;
For we came from the dust,
And return we must;
Think of this when you smoke tobacco!
5. The ashes that are left behind,
Do serve to put us all in mind
That unto dust
Return we must;
Think of this when you take tobacco!
6. The smoke that does so high ascend,
Shows that man's life must have an end;
The vapour's gone,
Man's life is done;
Think of this when you take tobacco!
"Under the Green-Wood Tree"
 |
| Lionel Percy Smythe (1839-1918) Under the Greenwood Tree, 1902 http://www.vam.ac.uk/users/node/3310 |
"The Vicar of Bray"
 |
| http://www.mustrad.org.uk/articles/kid_txt2.htm |
THE VICAR OF BRAY
In good King Charles's golden time
When loyalty no harm meant
A zealous high churchman was I
And so I gained preferment
To teach my flock I never missed
Kings are by God appointed
And damned are those who dare resist
Or touch the Lord's anointed.
And this is law that I'll maintain
Until my dying day, Sir.
That whatsoever king may reign
Still I'll be the Vicar of Bray, Sir!
When Royal James possessed the crown
And popery came in fashion
The Penal Laws I hooted down
And read the Declaration
The Church of Rome I found did fit
Full well my constitution
And I had been a Jesuit
But for the Revolution.
And this is law that I'll maintain
Until my dying day, Sir.
That whatsoever king may reign
Still I'll be the Vicar of Bray, Sir!
When William was our King declared
To ease the nation's grievance
With this new wind about I steered
And swore to him allegiance
Old principles i did revoke
Set conscience at a distance
Passive obedience was a joke
A jest was non-resistance.
And this is law that I'll maintain
Until my dying day, Sir.
That whatsoever king may reign
Still I'll be the Vicar of Bray, Sir!
When Royal Anne became our Queen
Then Church of England's Glory
Another face of things was seen
And I became a Tory
Occasional conformists base
I blamed their moderation
And thought the Church in danger was
By such prevarication.
And this is law that I'll maintain
Until my dying day, Sir.
That whatsoever king may reign
Still I'll be the Vicar of Bray, Sir!
When George in pudding time came o'er
And moderate men looked big, Sir.
My principles I changed once more
And so became a Whig, Sir.
And thus preferment I procured
From our new faith's defender.
And almost every day abjured
The Pope and the Pretender.
And this is law that I'll maintain
Until my dying day, Sir.
That whatsoever king may reign
Still I'll be the Vicar of Bray, Sir!
The illustrious house of Hanover
And Protestant succession
To these I do allegiance swear
While they can keep possession
For in my faith and loyalty
I never more will falter
And George my lawful king shall be
Until the times do alter.
"A Venison Dinner At Mr. Bunyan's"
A VENISON DINNER AT MR. BUNYAN'S
Friends, push round the bottle, and let us be drinking,
While Washington up in his mountains is slinking:
Good faith, if he’s wise he’ll not leave them behind him,
For he knows he’s safe no wheres where Britons can find him.
When he and Fayette talk of taking this city,
Their vaunting moves only our mirth and our pity.
But, though near our lines they’re too cautious to tarry,
What courage they shew when a hen-roost they harry!
Who can wonder that poultry and oxen and swine
Seek shelter in York from such valor divine,
While Washington’s jaws and the Frenchman’s are aching
The spoil they have lost, to be boiling and baking.
Let Clinton and Arnold bring both to subjection,
And send us more geese here to seek our protection.
Their flesh and their feathers shall meet a king greeting;
A fat rebel turkey is excellent eating,
A lamb fat as butter, and white as a chicken
These sports of tame rebels are excellent pickin’.
Then cheer up, my lads! if the prospect grows rougher,
Remember from whence and for whom ‘tis you suffer:
From men whom mild laws and too happy condition
Have puffed up with pride and inflamed with sedition;
For George, whose reluctance to punish offenders
Has strengthened the hands of these upstart pretenders.
"When I First Came To This Land"
WHEN I FIRST CAME TO THIS LAND
When I first came to this land,
I was not a wealthy man.
So I built myself a shack,
I did what I could.
And he called his shack,
Break my back.
But the land was sweet and good,
And I did what I could.
When I first came to this land,
I was not a wealthy man.
So I got myself a cow,
I did what I could.
And he called his cow,
No milk now.
Called his shack,
Break my back.
Oh, the land was sweet and good,
And I did what I could.
When I first came to this land,
I was not a wealthy man.
So I got myself a duck,
I did what I could.
And I called my duck,
Outta luck.
Called his cow,
No milk now.
Called his shack,
Break my back.
But the land was sweet and good,
And I did what I could.
When I first came to this land,
I was not a weathy man.
So I got myself a wife,
I did what I could.
And he called his wife,
Run for your life.
Called his duck,
Outta luck.
Called his cow,
No milk now.
Called his shack,
Break my back.
But the land was sweet and good,
And I did what I could.
When I first came to this land,
I was not a wealthy man.
So I had myself a son,
I did what I could.
And he called his son,
My work's done.
But, the land was sweet and good,
And I did what I could.
But, the land was sweet and good.
Yes, the land was sweet good,
And I did what I could.
"The Whirligig"
http://abcnotation.com/tunePage?a=trillian.mit.edu/~jc/music/abc/mirror/mindspring.com/~dmilewski/ecdp/3lfpublic/0136
"The Willow Tree"
American Version
American Version
 |
| Weeping Willow Tree |
THE WILLOW TREE
There was a youth, a cruel youth,
Who lived beside the sea,
Six little maidens he drowned there
By the lonely willow tree.
As he walked o'er with Sally Brown,
As he walked o'er with she,
And evil thought came to him there,
By the lonely willow tree.
O turn you back to the water's side
And face the willow tree,
Six little maidens I've drowned here,
And you the seventh shall be.
Take off, take off, your golden crown,
Take off your gown, cried he.
For though I am going to murder you
I would not spoil your finery.
Oh, turn around, you false young man,
Oh turn around, cried she,
For 'tis not meet that such a youth
A naked woman should you see.
He turned around, that false young man,
And faced the the willow tree,
And seizing him boldly in both her arms,
She threw him into the sea.
Lie there, lie there, you false young man,
Lie there, lie there, cried she,
Six little maidens you've drowned here,
Now keep them company!
He sank beneath the icy waves,
He sank down into the sea,
And no living thing wept a tear for him,
Save the lonely willow tree.
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