Frank Hennessey, of BBC Wales' Celtic Heartbeat, brought up the question of the Cardiff song "Llandaff" (as in Llandaff Cathedral, just on the outskirts of Cardiff) recently. He played a track by the Irish group Cran, called "Laugh And Half Daft," which is "Llandaff" going though the folk process. I remember the North Of Ireland singer Brian Mullen singing "Llandaff" ages ago, when he said he got from an Ulster woman singer whose name I can't remember.

I was in The Ship And Pilot in Butetown, Cardiff, which the regulars all fondly called The Six Tits, on behalf of the three sisters who used to own the pub. The Six Tits' culture was half Cardiff, half Irish - in the last century, hundreds of Irishmen had emigrated to Cardiff to build Cardiff Docks. I heard a Irish woman singing "Llandaff", although I was too immersed in South Wales songs to give it much attention. Here are the words:


"I come down from Llandaff, half o'er the Welsh mountains
Where the leeks and the violets and the nanny goats dwell
I come down in search of a fair gentle maiden
But where she's gone to, I'm sure I can't tell.

CHORUS: I'll weep and I'll wander o'er hills and o'er mountains
       In search of my Jenny, oh where can she be?
       I'll weep and I'll wander o'er hills and o'er mountains
       In search of my Jenny, oh where can she be?

She's the pride of her gender, her waist it is slender
Her hair is magenta and she squints with one eye
She talks like a parson, she sings like a nightingale
And if I don't find her I'm sure I will die.

The house of her parents is highly respected
Her mother milks cows on the three-legged stool
Her father's a farmer, her aunt is a lady
Her uncle's a rogue and her brother's a fool.

I courted my Jenny, I told her I loved her
We were to be married upon the May morn
But there came a bold soldier from the Royal Artillery
And on the next morning my Jenny was gone.

I searched for my Jenny, I promised I'd find her,
I went though the cupboards, I looked under the stair,
I read through the papers, I looked up the chimney,
But the sorrowful story: I found her nowhere.

Oh say, have you seen her, to you I'll describe her,
She wears a red petticoat and a cap on her head
She moves when she's walking, she speaks when she's talking
And her linen's marked P, Q, R, X, Y and Z.

She's gone with her soldier and I'll never find her,
Farewell to you, Jenny, wherever you be
No more will I wander o'er hills and o'er mountains
Farewell to you, Jenny, now goodbye to thee."

Can someone shed some light on this?

Mick Tems