Welcoem to posts!!
in the future - u will be able to do some more stuff here,,,!! like pat catgirl- i mean um yeah... for now u can only see others's posts :c
Hey, wishing you all a Happy New Year!! 🦊
I'm doing good recently. Despite the rough year.
It's not a lie, I really do feel pretty good.
I wish everyone else the same. Hope 2025 turns out well for you!
My New Year's Resolution is to keep up my daily walks and to learn to be less socially anxious.
11 - 5
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone who's celebrating.
I hope you have a good time!
Be kind to each other, try not to argue so much with family and friends.
7 - 3
And finally we have the mystery of "Willie's Fatal Visit" (Child No. 255).
Sung by Peter Christie of Stonehaven, Aberdeenshire, Scotland. Recorded by James Madison Carpenter 1929c-1935c:
"Saa ye my faether? or saa ye my maether?
Or saa ye my truelove, John?"
"I never saa yer maether, nor yet saa yer faether,
But I saa yer truelove, John."
"Wis John rinnin? or wis John comin?
Or wis John gaein hame?"
"John wis rinnin fast, love, an' John'll be here at last."
An' he rattled at the gate, love, sae fine,
Up the lassie raise, an' she pit on her claes,
An' she's clasped him in her airms again,
Crying, "O if it were but as lang, fie day
As sin eever the warld began!
"Ye my bonie cockie, an' O my pretty cockie
That cries i' the morning sae shoon,
'O if it were but as lang, fie day
As sin eever the warld began!'"
He's mounted on his white milk steg,
An' he's awa ridin hame;
An' what stid up by yon kirk stile
But a ghost on the side o the road.
"Often ye hae roden this road, Willie,
An' over me ye've gane;
An' often ye hae trodden this road, Willie,
But ye'll never trod them again."
She's taen Willie, torn him fae ear tee ear,
Cut him fae gair tee gair;
In a' the four corners o the churchyaird
An' bits o Sweet Willie lie there.
This Scottish text appends the last three stanzas from Child 255, "Willie's Fatal Visit". It's a curiousity. Another ghost ending, but different from "The Lover's Ghost".
Note how the name suddenly changes from John in the night visit stanzas to Willie in the ghost stanzas. It feels rather disjointed.
For comparison here's Child's only text of "The Grey Cock", taken from Herd's "The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs" (1769):
'O saw ye my father? or saw ye my mother?
Or saw ye my true-love John?'
'I saw not your father, I saw not your mother,
But I saw your true-love John.
'It's now ten at night, and the stars gie nae light,
And the bells they ring ding, dang;
He's met wi some delay that causeth him to stay,
But he will be here ere lang.'
The surly auld earl did naething but snarl,
And Johny's face it grew red;
Yet, tho he often sighd, he neer a word replied
Till all were asleep in bed.
Up Johny rose, and to the door he goes,
And gently tirl d the pin;
The lassie taking tent unto the door she went,
And she opend and let him in.
'And are ye come at last? and do I hold ye fast?
And is my Johny true?'
'I hae nae time to tell, but sae lang's I like mysell
Sae lang will I love you.'
'Flee, flee up, my bonny grey cock,
And craw when it is day;
Your neck shall be like the bonny beaten gold,
And your wings of the silver grey.'
The cock prov'd false, and untrue he was,
For he crew an hour oer soon;
The lassie thought it was day when she sent her love away,
And it was but a blink of the moon.
The only other field recording of "Willie's Fatal Visit" known to me comes from Jeannie Robertson of Aberdeenshire and leaves out the night visit stanzas, arguably making for a more coherent song.
Sung by Regina "Jeannie" Robertson of Aberdeenshire, Scotland. Recorded by Alan Lomax and Peter Kennedy in 1955:
For Willie’s gane o’er yon high, high hill,
And doon yon dowie den;
For it was there he met a grievious ghost
That would fear ten thousand men.
For he’s gane doon by Mary’s kirk,
And in by Mary’s stile.
Wan and weary was the ghost
On him that grimly smiled.
“Oft hae ye travelled this road, Willy,
Oft hae ye travelled and sang;
Nor thought what would come of your poor soul
When your sinful life was done.
“Oft hae ye travelled this road, Willy,
Your bonny new love tae see,
Oft hae ye travelled this road, Willy,
Nor thought of pooren me.
“Oft hae ye travelled this road, Willy,
Your bonny new love tae see.
But you’ll never travel this road again.
For this nicht avenged I’ll be.”
Then she has ta’en her perjured love,
And reived him gair by gair,
And ilka side o’ Mary’s stile.
Of him she hung a share.
His father and mither baith made moan,
His true love muckle mair;
His faither and mither baith made moan,
And his new love reived her hair.
Child's only text of "Willie's Fatal Visit" is a rather atrocious piece that was first published in Buchan's "Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland: Vol. 2" (1875):
'Twas on an evening fair I went to take the air,
I heard a maid making her moan;
Said, Saw ye my father? Or saw ye my mother?
Or saw ye my brother John?
Or saw ye the lad that I love best,
And his name it is Sweet William?
'I saw not your father, I saw not your mother,
Nor saw I your brother John;
But I saw the lad that ye love best,
And his name it is Sweet William.'
'O was my love riding? or was he running?
Or was he walking alone?
Or says he that he will be here this night?
O dear, but he tarries long!'
'Your love was not riding, nor yet was he running,
But fast was he walking alone;
He says that he will be here this night to thee,
And forbids you to think long.'
Then Willie he has gane to his love's door,
And gently tirled the pin:
'O sleep ye, wake ye, my bonny Meggie,
Ye'll rise, lat your true love in.'
The lassie being swack ran to the door fu snack,
And gently she lifted the pin,
Then into her arms sae large and sae lang
She embraced her bonny love in.
'O will ye gang to the cards or the dice,
Or to a table o wine?
Or will ye gang to a well-made bed,
Well coverd wi blankets fine?'
'O I winna gang to the cards nor the dice,
Nor yet to a table o wine;
But I'll rather gang to a well-made bed,
Well coverd wi blankets fine.'
'My braw little cock, sits on the house tap,
Ye'll craw not till it be day,
And your kame shall be o the gude red gowd,
And your wings o the siller grey.'
The cock being fause untrue he was,
And he crew an hour ower seen;
They thought it was the gude day-light,
But it was but the light o the meen.
'Ohon, alas!' says bonny Meggie then,
'This night we hae sleeped ower lang!'
'O what is the matter?' then Willie replied,
'The faster then I must gang.'
Then Sweet Willie raise, and put on his claise,
And drew till him stockings and sheen,
And took by his side his berry-brown sword,
And ower yon lang hill he's gane.
As he gaed ower yon high, high hill,
And down yon dowie den,
Great and grievous was the ghost he saw,
Would fear ten thousand men.
As he gaed in by Mary kirk,
And in by Mary stile,
Wan and weary was the ghost
Upon sweet Willie did smile.
'Aft hae ye travelld this road, Willie,
Aft hae ye travelld in sin;
Ye neer said sae muckle for your saul
As My Maker bring me hame!
'Aft hae ye travelld this road, Willie,
Your bonny love to see;
But ye'll never travel this road again
Till ye leave a token wi me.'
Then she has taen him Sweet Willie,
Riven him frae gair to gair,
And on ilka seat o Mary's kirk
O Willie she hang a share;
Even abeen his love Meggie's dice,
Hang's head and yellow hair.
His father made moan, his mother made moan,
But Meggie made muckle mair;
His father made moan, his mother made moan,
But Meggie reave her yellow hair.
These are just a handful examples of this rather confusing song family. It still leaves the mystery of "The Lover's Ghost" unsolved and doesn't explain how "Willie's Fatal Visit" (Child No. 255), which is really half of "The Grey Cock" lumped together with seemingly unrelated vengeful ghost stanzas, came to be.
I'm no scholar but to me the ghost stanzas of "Willie's Fatal Visit" feel more stilted and modern than the night visit stanzas that come before it. I'd wager a guess that they've been crafted onto the song by an anonymous poet in hopes of "completing" the ballad or giving it a more dramatic ending.
4 - 1
For comparison, here are a few traditional texts of "The Grey Cock" taken from field recordings. They don't contain the supernatural elements of "The Lover's Ghost".
Sung by Joe Holmes of Ballymoney, Co. Antrim, Northern Ireland. Recorded by Hugh Shields in 1975:
It happened for to be on a cold winter's evening
A fair maid sat waking alone;
She was thinking of her father, likewise her aged mother
And also her true lover John.
Young Johnny he was sweet and he promised for to meet
But he tarried an hour too long;
He met with great delay which caused him for to stray
And I weary waiting all alone.
Young Johnny came at last and he found the door was fast
And he slowly, slowly tinkled at the pane;
This fair maid she arose and hurried on her clothes
In order to let young Johnny in.
He took her in his arms and off to bed they went
And it's there they lay talking of their plan;
'I wish' this maid said she 'this night would prove to be
As long as since the world first began,
Fly up, oh fly up, my pretty little cock,
And don't crow until it breaks day
And your cage it shall become of the very shining gold
And your wings of a silvery grey.'
But this pretty little cock, so cruel as he was,
He crowed out an hour too soon
And he sent my love away before the break of day,
It being only the light of the moon.
This fair maid she arose and quickly followed after
Saying 'When will you come to see me?'
When the fishes they do fly, the seas they all run dry
And seven moons shine brightly o'er yon lea.'
There was once I thought my love was as constant unto me
As the stones that lie under yon ground,
But now since I do find he's altered his mind
I would rather live single as be bound.
Sung by John McLaverty of Belfast, Northern Ireland. Recorded by Peter Kennedy in 1952:
It was on a moonlight night when the moon was shining bright,
A young maid she was sighing all alone,
She was sighing for her father, lamenting for her mother,
Sheding tears for her true lover John.
Now young John has come at last and the door was bolted fast,
And softly he tinkled on the ring,
And up the maid arose and she bundled on her clothes,
And it's all to let her true lover in.
Oh, ye birds of early dawn, ye well feathered birds,
Do you not crow before it is day,
And she thought that it was day and she sent her love away,
But it was only the light of the moon.
Sung by Robert Cinnamond of Ballinderry, Co. Antrim, Northern Ireland. Recorded by Sean O'Boyle in 1955:
"Fly up my cock,
You're my well-feathered cock,
And don't crow till the break of day.
"Your red rosy comb
Will it be of the beaten gold
And your neck of a silvery grey."
Oh my cock flew up
And my cock flew down,
And he then crowed one hour too soon.
This young man he arose
And hurried on his clothes,
But it was only the light of the moon.
"When will you be back
My dear Jimmy," she said,
"For to wed with a gay gold ring?"
"Seven moons," said he,
"Shining o'er the lea
And the skies to yield up no more rain."
For now I do see
The contrary way,
And it's better to live single or be bound.
All three texts were recorded in Northern Ireland and show a remarkable likeness to each other. Even more interestingly they're also similar to two texts collected in the US from singers of the Beech Mountain area where a treasure trove of ballads has been handed down through the Hicks/Harmon/Gentry/Presnell family, early settlers of the region.
Sung by Maud Long of Hot Springs, North Carolina. Recorded by Prof. Kenneth S. Goldstein in 1956:
All on one summer's evening when the fever were a-dawning
I heard a fair maid make a mourn.
She was a-weeping for her father and a-greiving for her mother
And a-thinking all on her true love John.
At last Johnny came and he found the doors all shut
And he ding-led so low at the ring
Then this fair maid she rose and she hurried on her clothes
To make haste to let Johnny come in.
All around the waist he caught her and unto the bed he brought her,
And they lay there a-talking awhile.
She says: O you feathered fowls, you pretty feathered fowls,
Don't you crow till 'tis almost day,
And your comb it shall be of the pure ivory
And your wings of the bright silveree (or silver grey).
But him a-being young, he crowed very soon,
He crowed two long hours before day;
And she sent her love away, for she thought 'twas almost day,
And 'twas all by the light of the moon.
It's when will you be back, dear Johnny,
When will you be back to see me?
When the seventh moon is done and passed and shines on yonder lea,
And you know that will never be.
What a foolish girl was I when I thought he was as true
As the rocks that grow to the ground;
But since I do find he has altered in his mind,
It's better to live single than bound.
Nearly the same text was also sung by Vergie Wallin of Sodom Laurel, Madison County, North Carolina. Recorded by Mike Yates in 1983.
This version was first collected by Cecil Sharp from Mrs. Jane Hicks Gentry of Hot Springs, North Carolina in 1916. Maud Long was Mrs. Gentry's daughter.
Hot Springs is a few miles away from Sodom Laurel, it makes sense that the songs travelled around and ended up in the repertoire of other singers like Vergie Wallin. Jane Hicks Gentry was originally from Beech Mountain, a good way to the north-east of Hot Springs. We have two distinct North American texts of "The Grey Cock" and both originated in the Beech Mountain area.
Sung by Hattie Hicks Presnell of Beech Mountain, North Carolina. Recorded by Sandy Paton 1961c:
The moon it shines bright, and the stars they give light,
While this fair miss she worries alone.
There's something in the way that is causing him to stay,
It's I am worried alone, 'lone, 'lone,
It's I am worried alone.
Her true love come at last, and he come very fast,
Come tripplin' through the plain.
This fair miss she rose, and she threw on her clothes,
For to let her old true lover in, in, in,
For to let her old true lover in.
"My pretty little chicken, my pretty crowin' chicken,
Say, don't you crow before day.
I'll make your wings of a yeller beading gold,
And your comb of the silver so gay, gay, gay,
And your comb of the silver so gay."
This chicken proved false-hearted to her,
And crowed one hour too soon.
She sent her love away, before it was day,
And he traveled by the light of the moon, moon, moon,
And he traveled by the light of the moon.
She saddled up her milk white horse,
And also her dapple grey.
She rode through the dark wilderness,
At the length of a long summer day, day, day,
At the length of a long summer day.
"My old true love, my sweet turtledove,
Oh, when shall I see you again?"
"When the moon and the sun enters in yonders green,
And the sky shall shed no more rain, rain, rain,
And the sky shall shed no more rain."
Nearly the same text was also sung by Frank Proffitt of Vilas, Watauga County, North Carolina. Recorded by John Cohen 1959c.
Frank sang "When the moon and the stars enters in yonders stream," in the final stanza, apart from that the texts are identical. Vilas is next to Beech Mountain.
4 - 0
I should also mention Mrs. Cecilia Costello's ghost song which is a unique case.
Sung by Mrs. Cecilia Costello of Birmingham. Recorded by Marie Slocombe and Patrick Shuldham-Shaw in 1951:
I must be going, no longer staying
The burning Thames I have to cross
Oh I must be guided without a stumble
Into the arms of my dear lass.
When he came to his true love's window
He knelt down gently on a stone
And it's through a pane he whispered slowly
“My dear girl, are you alone?”
She rose her head from her down-soft pillow
And snowy were her milk-white breast. Saying,
“Who's there, who's there at my bedroom window
Disturbing me from my long night's rest?”
“Oh I'm your lover, don't discover
I pray you rise, love, and let me in
For I am fatigued out of my long night's journey
Besides I am wet into the skin.”
Now this young girl rose and put on her clothing
‘Til she quickly let her own true love in.
Oh they kissed, shook hands and embraced each other
‘Til that long night was near at an end.
“Willie dear, O dearest Willie
Where is that colour you'd some time ago?”
“O Mary dear, the clay has changed me
I am but the ghost of your Willie O.”
“Then O cock, O cock, O handsome cockerel
I pray you not crow until it is day
For your wings I'll make of the very first beaten gold
And your comb I will make of the silver ray.”
But the cock it crew and it crew so fully
It crew three hours before it was day
And before it was day my love had to go away
Not by the light of the moon nor the light of day.
When she saw her love disappearing
The tears down her pale cheeks in streams did flow
He said, “Weep no more for me, dear Mary
I am no more your Willie O.”
“Then it's Willie dear, O dearest Willie
Whenever shall I see you again?”
“When the fish they fly, love,
and the sea runs dry, love
And the rocks they melt by the heat of the sun.”
This is a conflation of three distinct songs, it combines the "I must be going", "bedroom window" and "I'm your lover, let me in" stanzas from "The Night Visiting Song" (Roud No. 22568), the ghost stanzas from "Willie-O/Bay of Biscay-O" (Roud No. 22567) and the bird bribery stanzas from "The Grey Cock" (Child No. 248) into a surprisingly coherent and beautiful new song.
Notably Mrs. Costello's parents were Irish and she learned the song from family tradition.
Conflations of "The Night Visiting Song" and "Willie-O" were popular in the repertoire of Travellers in Ireland, but Mrs. Costello's version is the only one that also includes the bird bribery stanzas from "The Grey Cock", as far as I know.
For comparison here is a version of "The Night Visiting Song" from Ontario. It's how the song usually ends, there's a cock crowing, the young man takes his leave, but there's no bribery and no obvious supernatural element.
Sung by LaRena Clark of Richmond, Ontario. Recorded by Edith Fowke in 1961:
"This night of May I can stay no longer,
The burning tempest I have to cross,
And though the night be as dark as dungeon,
This very night I'll go see my love."
And when he got to his true love's window,
He gentlie knelt down on a stone,
And through the pane oh he whispered lowly,
"My darling girl, are you alone?"
She then arose from her soft down pillow,
And snowy milk-white was her breast,
And through the pane oh she whispered lowly,
Saying, "Who's this keeps me from my night's rest?"
"It's your true lover, so now uncover
And rise up quicklie and let me in,
I'm weary, weary from my long journey,
Besides I'm wet, love, unto the skin."
She then arose with the greatest pleasure
To let her own dear true lover in.
They kissed, shook hands, and embraced each other
Till that long night wore to an end.
The night being spent and daylight appearing,
And the wee cocks they began to crow,
They kissed, shook hands, and in sorrow parted,
He took his leave and away did go.
Now let's take a look at a version of "Willie-O/Bay of Biscay-O" (Roud No. 22567) from Ireland.
Sung by Nora Cleary of Miltown Malbay, County Clare, Ireland. Recorded by Jim Carroll and Pat Mackenzie in 1976:
As Mary lay sleeping, her love came creeping
To her bedroom door so slow,
Saying, "Rise up, Mary, my lovely Mary,
I'm your charming Willie-o."
Mary arose, she put on her clothes
And to her bedroom door did go,
And there she found her own true lover
And his face was white as the lily snow.
"Oh, Willie dear, where are those blushes,
That you had some long ago?"
"Mary dear, the clay has changed them;
I'm but the ghost of your Willie-o."
They spent that night in deep conversation
Concerning their courtship years ago.
They kissed, they shook hands and sorrowful parted
Just as the cock began to grow.
And as they were in deep conversation
Down her cheeks the tears did flow.
"Farewell, Darling, I must leave you;
I'm but the ghost of your Willie-o."
"Oh, Willie dear, when will we meet again?"
"When the fishes there will fly
And the sea it will run dry
And the rocks they will melt with the sun."
You can easily spot the stanzas which have been imported into Mrs. Costello's song to give it a ghostly ending.
Here's another example from Ireland, this one containing the opening stanza from which the song became known as "The Bay of Biscay-O".
Sung by Maggie McGee at Ballyliffin, Co. Donegal, Ireland. Recorded by Jimmy McBride in 1987:
My Willie sails on board a timbo
And for to find him I do not know
But for seven long years I am constantly waiting
From across the Bay of Biscay-o
One night as I lay down a sleeping
A knock came to my bedroom door
Arise arise up bonnie Mary
Till you get one glimpse of your Willie-o
This maid arose put on her clothing
And to the bedroom door did go
And who stood there but her Willie darling
And his face was as white as the driven snow
Oh Willie dear where are your blushes
The blushes you had seven years ago
In the cold cold clay they have faded Mary
And it's only the ghost of your Willie-o
If I had all the gold and silver
All the gold and silver in Mexico
I'd give it all for the freedom of Ireland
And to save my Willie from Biscay-o
And finally, let's look at a text sung by Scottish Traveller Duncan Williamson that includes elements of both "The Night Visiting Song" and "Willie-O" but not the bird bribery of "The Grey Cock".
Sung by Duncan Williamson of Furnace, Argyllshire, later settled in Fife. Recorded by John Howson in 1991:
O it’s seven long years since my true love left me.
It is seven long years since he went to sea.
But another seven I shall wait his pleasure,
Till he comes home and he marries me.
Now I lie in my bed and I often wonder
I lie in my bed and I often pray.
I pray to my dearest God in Heaven,
Will he send my true love back home to me?
Now who is that there, who is at my window?
Who is keeping me out of my night’s rest?
It is not my father, it is not my mother,
Who is keeping me out of my night’s rest?
He said, “Open your door, love, and let me in, love.
Will ye open your door, love, will you let me in?
For I am cold, love, and I am weary.
And I am wet to the very skin.”
So she opened the door with the greatest of pleasure,
She opened the door and she let him in.
Saying, “If you’re my young man, you have changed your colour,
You’re not like the young man I used to know.”
So they sat talking and went walking,
Until the small cock he began to crow.
He said, “I must away, dear, I can stay no longer
For it’s a far way that I have to go.”
She said, “Willie dear, love, o please don’t leave me,
O Willie dear, don’t go back to sea.
O Willie dear, love, o please don’t leave me,
O Willie won’t you stay with me?”
He said, “I must away, dear, I can stay no longer,
For it’s a far way I have to go.
And when I’m gone, love, please pray no longer,
For never more can I come home to you.”
I felt it was interesting enough to give a comparison of these songs. For me personally the biggest issue was Cecilia Costello's ghost song being presented as a version of "The Grey Cock" back in the 1950s when it was first published in "The Penguin Book of English Folk Songs" and made popular in the folk revival. It's a beautiful song taken on its own but is by no means representative of the Child ballad. The majority of Child 248 texts follow a relatively stable set of stanzas and have no relationship to Mrs. Costello's outside of sharing the bird bribery stanzas and the general theme of a nightly visit.
5 - 0
Recently @wychwoodmusic brought up "The Lover's Ghost", an unusual variant of "The Grey Cock" (Child No. 248).
It was found twice by Maud Karpeles in Newfoundland in 1929. I never came across any later field recordings of it. Its closest relative appears to be "The Lover's Ghost" from P. W. Joyce's "Old Irish Folk Music and Songs" (1909).
These songs retain most stanzas of Child 248, usually a night visit song with no supernatural elements, but with a dramatic ghost ending that must've been added from a different song. Where exactly the ghost stanzas come from is a mystery.
"The Night Visiting Song" (Roud No. 22568)
"Willie-O/Bay of Biscay-O" (Roud No. 22567)
"The Grey Cock" (Child No. 248)
"Willie's Fatal Visit" (Child No. 255)
They all tend to get mixed up in traditional texts.
There might also be influence from "Sweet William's Ghost" (Child No. 77). But as far as I can tell it doesn't share any lines with "The Lover's Ghost".
Here are the texts of Maud Karpeles' Newfoundland versions. Regrettably she didn't have access to a portable tape recorder so there's no audio available.
A. The Lover's Ghost - Matthew Aylward of Stock Cove, Bonavista Bay, Newfoundland, collected by Karpeles, version A, on Sept. 20, 1929.
She said to her mama, she said to her dada,
"There’s something the matter with me,
There’s something the matter and I don’t know what it is,
And I’m weary from lying alone."
John he came there at the very hour appointed,
He tapped at the window so gay;
This fair maid arose and she hurried on her clothes,
And let her true love John in.
She took him by the hand and on the bed she laid him,
Felt he was colder than clay.
"If I had my wish and my wish it would be so,
This long night would never be morn."
"Crow up, crow up, my little bird,
And don’t crow before it is day,
And your cage shall be made of the glittering gold," she said,
"And your doors of the silver so gay."
"Where is your soft bed of down, my love,
And where is your white Holland sheet,
And where is the fair maid that watches on you
While you are taking your long silent sleep?"
"The sand is my soft bed of down, my love,
The sea is my white Holland sheet,
And long hungry worms will feed off of me
While I’m taking my long silent sleep."
"And when will I see you, my love," she cries,
"And when will I see you again?"
"When the little fishes fly and the seas they do run dry
And the hard rocks they melt with the sun."
B. The Lover's Ghost - Sung by Mr. James Day at Fortune Harbour,
1st October, 1929; Karpeles B.
Johnny is the young man that lately promised he'd marry me,
But I am afeard that he is . . .
There's something else bewailed him or else he got a charm
Or always with some fair one he's gone.
But John he come back at the very hour he appointed,
Tappen to her window so low.
The fair one then arose and hurried on her clothes
And welcomed her true love young John.
She got him by the hand and 'twas through the room she ledded him,
She felt he was colder than clay.
She says: My dearest dear, if I only had my wish,
This long night would never be day.
Where is your soft bed of down, my love, she cries,
Or where is your white holland sheet,
Or where is the maiden sweet that used to wait on you
Every night in your long silent sleep?
The sand is my soft bed of down, my love, he cries,
And the waves is my white holland sheet,
And the rocks and the worms is my jury just [sic] companion,
Every night I sleep in the deep.
When will I see you again, my love, she cries,
Or when will I see you any more?
When the little fishes fly and the seas will run dry
And the hard rocks will melt with the sun.
Additional stanza given 2nd October:
The birds they must be false and very false, she cries,
They crow two hours too soon;
Their combs must be made of the very beads of gold
And their wings of the silver so fine.
A related text was noted by the Irish song collector Patrick W. Joyce who learnt it as boy in the 1830's in his native village of Glenosheen, Co. Limerick. It was printed in "Old Irish Folk Music and Songs", Dublin, 1909 under the title "The Lover's Ghost:
“Oh, you’re welcome home again,” said the young man to his love,
“I’ve been waiting for you many a night and day.
You are tired, you are pale,” said the young man to his dear,
“You shall never again go away.”
“I must go away,” she said, “when the little cock will crow,
For here they will not let me stay.
But if I had my wish, oh, my darling,” she said,
“This night should be never, never day.”
“Oh my pretty pretty cock, oh my handsome little cock,
I pray you will not crow before day;
And your comb shall be made of the very beaten gold,
And your wings of the silver so grey!”
But oh, this pretty cock, this handsome little cock,
He crew loud a full hour too soon:
“Oh, my true love,” she said, “It is time for me to part,
It is now the going down of the moon!”
“And where is your bed, my dearest dear?” he said,
“And where are your white holland sheets?
And where are the maidens, my dearest love,” he said,
“That wait on you while you are asleep?”
“The clay is my bed, my dearest dear,” she said,
“The shroud is my white holland sheet;
The worms and the creeping things are my waiting maids,
To wait on me whilst I am asleep.”
5 - 0
In my opinion the folk process removes the complicated and less memorable parts of a song.
It's a smoothing out the roughness process.
At the same time it's a lossy process that introduces mistakes and corruption over time.
It makes it both more polished and more corrupted, if that makes sense.
If the folk process goes on too long it destroys the song.
Like a stone in a river bed it gets smoothed and prettier by the water washing over it.
But wait too long and it will disappear completely, it washes off until nothing is left.
8 - 3
Black Phyllis
It's a poem or a folk ballad I once found in a book, "Folk-Songs of the South", by John Harrington Cox. Quite mysterious, it's been on my mind today. Only four verses exist.
And then came Black Phyllis, his charger astride,
And took away Annie, his unwilling bride.
It rained, it hailed, and I sat and cried,
And wished that my Annie that day had then died.
And then came her true-love from over the moor,
And left them a-cursing his cross on the door.
It rained, it hailed, I waited no more;
I knew that my Annie he soon would restore.
He fell on Black Phyllis with wild lion's roar;
They fought and they struggled for hour after hour.
It rained, it hailed, though wounded and sore,
He left Phyllis a-dead on the moor.
Then swift as a bird to his true-love he fled,
Found the cabin in ashes, the ground all a-red.
It rained, it hailed, though swift he had fled,
He found he was too late; his Annie was dead.
I sing it to the tune of "Fair Nottamun Town" to which it is related by the third line of each verse. I wish there was more of it, but whatever existed is lost to time.
Is Black Phyllis a kidnapper? Or a picturesque description of a disease taking Annie away?
We'll never know but it is intriguing.
7 - 2
As a little kid my grandfather took me along on a truck ride one day and I heard on the radio a song, "Kisses Sweeter Than Wine" with a beautiful melody.
I desperately wanted to remember it, so I wrote down what I heard of the refrain.
Back at home I looked it up and found out it's based on an Irish folk song, "Drimindown".
Eventually I found a recording of "Drimindown" and it was so fascinating to me, it started my lifelong passion for folk music.
That recording I heard was sung by Mr. Ernest Sellick of Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, Canada. Recorded by Helen Creighton in 1956.
It had an outlandishly strange tune to my ears and a macaronic refrain. A mixture of Gaelic and English.
It was a spellbinding experience to hear that for the first time as a kid of 11 years. My only previous experience with folk music came from the singing class I joined in school where we sang shanties like "Drunken Sailor" or "Banks of Sacramento".
The tune for Mr. Sellick's "Drimindown" resembles "Down Derry Down" or "King John and the Bishop" but it's longer because of the refrain. It also resembles "The Fair Maid on the Shore".
I can't share the recording for copyright reasons, but here are the words as Mr. Sellick sang them:
There was an old man and he had but one cow,
And how that he lost her he couldn't tell how,
For white was her forehead and slick was her tail
And I thought my poor Drimindown never would fail
E-go so ro Drimindown ho ro ha.
So ro Drimindown nealy you gra,
So ro Drimindown or ha ma dow
Me poor Drimindown nea le sko che a go slanigash
So ro Drimindown horo ha.
Bad luck to ye Drimin and why did you die?
Why did ye leave me, for what and for why?
For I 'd sooner lose Pat and my own Bucken Bon
Than you, my poor Drimindown, now you are gone.
As I went to mass one fine morning in May
I saw my poor Drimindown sunk by the way,
I rolled and I bawled and my neighbours I called
To see my poor Drimindown, she being my all.
My poor Drimon's sunk and I saw her no more,
She sunk on an island close down by the shore,
And after she sunk down she rose up again
Like a bunch of black wild berries grown in the glen.
Notably this melody is nothing like the one that became "Kisses Sweeter Than Wine".
That most unlikely and most famous version of the song was recorded by Lead Belly. He heard it from an Irishman at a party in New York. He asked the singer to write down the words for him so he could learn it.
That's the melody that was later adapted into "Kisses Sweeter Than Wine" by Pete Seeger and Lee Hays of The Weavers in 1950.
Here are the words as Lead Belly sang them on the first Library of Congress recording made in 1934, which must've been close to when he learned it:
It's a mournful ditty I will tell you right now
Bout this old man he had but one cow
He'd send her to the fields to be fed
But the way they beat ole Drimmer dropped dead
Oh, oh, musha sweeter than thou
When the old man heard that his cow she was dead
Over hedges and ditches and fields he had fled
Over hedges and ditches and fields that was plowed
Never privy to his wife till he came to his cow
Oh, oh, musha sweeter than thou
When he first saw Drimmer she was in the green grass
No carter man passed that Drimmer so fast
She gave her milk freely without any bale
But the blood of her life spilled out of a pail
Oh, oh, musha sweeter than thou
Now I sit down and eat my dry meal
But I have no milk to put in my tea
Now I have no butter to sop with my bread
But now old Drimmer dropped dead
Oh, oh, musha sweeter than thou
It's a mournful ditty I will tell you right now
Bout this old man he had but one cow
He'd send her to the fields to be fed
But the way they beat ole Drimmer dropped dead
Oh, oh, musha sweeter than thou
In later performances he garbled some of the lyrics. "It's a mournful ditty" became "If it wasn't for Dicky" and was even used as the song title on later commerical recordings of it.
I haven't been able to find any field recordings that closely resemble Lead Belly's tune but I found one that resembles his chorus:
There was an old man and he had but one cow,
Then how she had left him I cannot tell how,
White was her face and slick was her tail
Sure I thought my old Droimeann Donn never would fail.
With yer oh, oh, yer old sweet Droimeann Donn.
I can see how "sweet Drimin Dow" became "sweeter than thou" in Lead Belly's version. It makes perfect sense.
This was sung by Tim Galvin, a retired farmer of Killarney, County Kerry, Ireland. Recorded by Catherine Foley in 1982.
A much closer analogue to Lead Belly's text and tune was sung by David Sear at a folk concert in Town Hall, New York in 1959:
Tis a mournful sad ditty I'll tell you right now
About an old man and he had but one cow
He sent his old cow to the field to be fed
When word came to him that Dhrinnin was dead.
Oh oh-ru mush-a sweeter than thou
Oh oh-ru mush-a sweeter than thou
When the old man was told that his cow was so dead
Over hedges and ditches and fields he fled
Over hedges and ditches and fields that was plowed
And he never cried thwack till he came to his cow
I would rather lose Patsie, my only first born
Than to part with you Dhrinnin now that you are gone
So I'll sit myself down and I'll eat my dry bread
And I'll have no butter since Dhrinnin is dead!
This one uses the very same tune that later became famous as "Kisses Sweeter Than Wine".
But I don't know where David Sear learned it. There's no info provided on the record unfortunately.
I'm assuming it's one of the versions collected by Helen Creighton in Canada.
Another unlikely version was found in Arkansas:
A comical ditty I will sing ye now
Concerning a poor man that had but one cow,
Each day he would bring her from the fields to be fed
But arriving one morning found Drimmendoo dead,
And it's oh-ro Drimmendoo,
Oh-ra-hwan Drimmendoo
Deelish-go-gee-to schlan.
Bad luck to you, Drimmendoo, what made you die?
'Twas not for the want of good corn or hay;
Yes, corn and hay and enough of it, too,
For it's abba-boo hwilla-loo, what'll I do?
And it's oh-ro Drimmendoo,
Oh-ra-hwan Drimmendoo
Deelish-go-gee-to-schlan.
'Twas yesterday's morning, Friday last
When I milked me old Drimmendoo on the green grass,
And so white was her milk and so slick was her tail
That I thought me old Drimmendoo never would fail,
And it's oh-ro Drimmendoo,
Oh-ra-hwan Drimmendoo
Deelish-go-gee-to-schlan.
Bad luck to the praist and the friar also,
They promised to keep me from sorrow and woe,
And when they found that I was in distress,
For regards of one shillin', poor Drimmen lost Mass,
And it's oh-ro Drimmendoo,
Oh-ra-hwan Drimmendoo
Deelish-go-gee-to-schlan.
'Tis now I must sit down and ate a dry mail;
For I have no more butter to butter me kale;
And, oh, no more strippin's to sop me bread,
For it's abba-boo hwilla-loo, Drimmendoo's dead,
And it's oh-ro Drimmendoo,
Oh-ra-hwan Drimmendoo
Deelish-go-gee-to-schlan.
"I learned it from a man named Gorman twenty years ago. It was in Texas, and he was an Irishman, and he came from Canada here."
Sung by Mr. Fred Smith of Bentonville, Arkansas. Recorded by Max Hunter in 1958.
This one is closer to Ernest Sellick's version with the garbled Gaelic refrain.
And finally the last recording of this song I have been able to find again comes from Canada:
Drimindown lived before she was dead,
Gave me fresh butter to spread on my bread.
Likewise good milk for to stiffen my crown,
But now it's black water since Drimindown's gone.
Oh, Drimindown, ahrle-draw,
Oh, Drimindown, ahrle-draw,
Oh, Drimindown, hug-a-sug,
Oh my Drimindown derry,
Oh where have you gone?
Drimindown, Drimindown, for which and for why?
Drimindown, Drimindown, what made you die?
So white was your milk and so stiff was your tail,
I thought that my Drimindown never would fail.
Oh, Drimindown, ahrle-draw,
Oh, Drimindown, ahrle-draw,
Oh, Drimindown, hug-a-sug,
Oh my Drimindown derry,
Oh where have you gone?
Sung by Charles Cates, major of North Vancouver, British Columbia, a former sea captain. Helen Creighton recorded Capt. Cates' version in August 1956 when he was on a visit to Halifax, Nova Scotia.
There was one more recording made by Peter Kennedy and Sean O’Boyle of Maureen (Tunney) Melly.
It was recorded at Maureen Melly’s home in Belfast on August 2, 1953.
Drimin Droo (talk preceding) BBC 19354
Drimin Droo (talk preceding) Folktrax FTX-434
I tried searching for this recording in the Digital Peter Kennedy Collection of The British Library.
Regrettably the Maureen Melly tape appears to be lost, it hasn't been digitized with the other BBC reels.
Here's the Roud Folk Song Index entry for it:
archives.vwml.org/songs/RoudFS/S173918
That's it as far as sound recordings are concerned.
A couple of older texts of "Drimindown" are available on the late Bruce Olson's Scarce Songs website:
mudcat.org/olson/SONGTXT1.html#DRUMNDB
I'm sorry if I made a bit of a chaotic mess while writing this down. I felt nostalgic about the song today and I have a special connection with it as it was "the first real folk song" I ever heard in my life, if that makes sense.
14 - 0
Here's another strange folk song from my childhood in southwest Germany:
Em pompie, kolonie kolonastri,
Em pompie, kolonie,
Akademi, safari,
Akademi, puff puff,
Un de Deckel uwe druff.
Imagine my surprise when this same nonsense song somehow exists in English speaking countries as well.
It even has it's own Roud number.
I Paula Taska Nonsense Song (Roud No. 12944)
Here's a version Alan Lomax collected from children at Norton Park school in Edinburgh, Scotland in 1951:
I paula tay, paula taska,
Paula tay, paula toe.
I paula tay, paula taska,
Paula tay, paula toe.
O alla tinka, to do the rhumba,
O alla tinka, do the Rhumba — umba umba umba-ay.
10 - 0
Thank you all so much for the positive feedback! I'm happy that this archive is interesting and useful to people.
I gathered all these field recordings over the years when folk music became my hobby and I thought it would be nice to have them all available in a single place with the lyrics, song variants and additional info provided.
I've been struggling a bit with health issues recently and I don't have as much time to work on this project as I used to, but I still have a few ballads and songs that I would like to add in the future. Hopefully I can return to it soon.
I read and answer comments and questions whenever I see them, feel free to comment on the songs!
Feedback, corrections and additions are always appreciated. I try my best to get information on the singers and their songs right, but mistakes can happen.
Please enjoy the music and help prevent it from being forgotten!
~Reynard the Fox