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Songbook - Folk Songs Of Lancashire
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Subject: Songbook - Folk Songs Of Lancashire From: Sky Sailor Date: 01 Oct 08 - 07:53 AM Here it is .. Folk Songs Of Lancashire Assembled by Mike Harding ABC tunes and lyrics. (It may take a little time to complete) Bibliographic Information:
The Mike Harding Collection: Folk Songs of Lancashire. Manchester: Whitethorn Press, 1980. |
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Subject: Index: Folk Songs Of Lancashire - Contents From: Sky Sailor Date: 01 Oct 08 - 07:54 AM
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: A Beggin' I Will Go From: Sky Sailor Date: 01 Oct 08 - 08:02 AM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% A Beggin' I Will Go %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:1 T:A Beggin' I Will Go R:Folk Song M:6/8 C:Trad O:England L:1/8 Q:1/4=200 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:C "C"E|"C"E2 E A2 A|"G7"G2 G E2 C|"G7"D2 D G2 G|"C"E3 z2 A| "F"A A2 B A2| "G7"G E2 C2 D|"C"E D2 C2 A,|"G7"G,2 z2 B,/2 C/2|"G7"D2 D D2 E| "G7"D3 z2 D/2 D/2|\ "G7"D2 C2 A,2 G,|"F"A,4 z2| A Beggin' I Will Go Of all the trades in England The beggin' is the best For when a beggar's tired He can sit down to rest. CHORUS And a beggin' I will go And a beggin' I will go. I've a bag for me oatmeal And another for me salt A pair of little crutches Tha should see how I can halt. Me breecheses they are nobbut holes But me heart is free of care As long as I've a belly full Me arse it can go bare. There's a bed for me where e'er I lie And I don't pay no rent I've got no noisy looms to mind And I am reet content. I rest when I'm tired I heed no master's bell A man would be mad to be a king When beggars live so well. I've a black patch on my fusti coat And another on my ee But when it comes to tuppeny ale I'll see as well as thee. I've bin deef at Dukinfield And I've bin blint at Shaw And many a reet and willin' lass I've bedded in the straw. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Ashton Famine Song From: Sky Sailor Date: 01 Oct 08 - 08:04 AM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Ashton Famine Song %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:2 T:Ashton Famine Song R:Folk Song M:4/4 C:Trad O:England L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:Eb % "Bb7"B,B,|"Eb"E3 E F2 EF|"Eb"Ge-e4 ed|"Ab"c2 BG E2 DE|"Bb7"F6 B,B,| "Eb"E E2 E F2 EF|"Eb"Ge-e4 ed|"Ab"c B2 G {G}F2 ED|"Eb"E6 BB| "Bb7"B B2 f-f2 ec|"Ab"cB-B2 z2 z c| "Bb7"B2 G2 GF DE|"Bb7"F6 z B,| "Eb"E E2 E F2 EF|"Eb"Ge-e4 ed|"Ab"c2 BG {G}F2 ED|"Eb"E6 z2| Ashton Famine Song We have come to ask for assistance For at home we've been starving too long And our children are wanting subsistence Kindly aid us to help them along. CHORUS For humanity it is calling Don't let the cry be in vain But aid us we're needy and falling And God will return it again. No strike but a greater contention Has brought us to hunger and pain And our laws they oppose intervention So help us and honour you will gain. War's clamour and civil commotion Stagnation has brought in its train And stoppage brings with it starvation So help us some bread to obtain. The American war is still lasting, Like a terrible nightmare it leans On the breast of a country now fasting For cotton, for work and for means. Let us hope that the war will be ended And the blockade be heard of no more But peace and contentment be blended On this and America's fair shore. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: The Boggart From: Sky Sailor Date: 01 Oct 08 - 08:10 AM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Boggart, The %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:3 T:Boggart, The R:Folk Song M:C| C:Trad O:England L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:G % D2|G2 BB-B2 D2|G B2 B-B2 D2|G B3 A2 F2|G6 D2| G2 BB B2 D2|G2 B2 B3 B|G G3 A2 F2|G6 B2| c c2 A-A2 A2|B2 BG-G2 D2|BB-B2 A2 AB-|B6 D2| G2 BB-B2 D2|G2 B2 B2 D2|G2 B2 A2 F2|G2 ED-D2 z2| G2 B2 c2 AG-|G6 z2|| The Boggart Come listen to this merry tale of honest Farmer Bell Who lived within an old farmhouse at top of Moston Dell He was a farmer bold I ween as ever held a flail He'd cows and horses, pigs and sheep And cheese and nut brown ale, Me lads, cheese and nut brown ale. For years and years, time out of mind, a quaint mischevious elf Had made the ancient farmhouse his and there had lodged his self, He ate the butter, drank the milk and sucked the new laid eggs The milk churns up the chimblev put and broke the table legs Me lads, broke the table legs. Now farmer Bell, he knew full well, though damned if he knew why The Boggart gainst him bore a grudge and drove him mad well nigh The doors thev slammed, the timbers creaked, the very house did shake And pots and pans flew round his yed and on the floor did break Me lads, on the floor did break. Twere more than flesh and blood could stand and so thowt Farmer Bell Said he "I'll flit this haunted house and somewhere else I'll dwell I am a farmer bold and I will cheat this cunning elf I'll keep the secret of me plan and leave him to himself Me lads, leave him to himself." One morning Farmer Bell put all his things upon a cart He locked the door and took the reins and whispered "Let us start We'll leave this Boggart here alone, withouten more ado!" "Th'art wrong!" a voice called from a churn "I'm flittin' with you too Me lad, flittin' with you too." "Nay that th'art not," owd Bell replied and turning to his men, Said "Get that stuff back off the carts and in the house again!" Poor Farmer Bell, he passed away, when he'd lived long enough And now the place where he did dwell is called the Boggart's Clough Me lads, it's called the Boggart's Clough. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Bowton's Yard From: Sky Sailor Date: 01 Oct 08 - 08:14 AM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Bowton's Yard %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:4 T:Bowton's Yard R:Folk Song M:6/8 C:Trad O:England L:1/8 Q:1/4=200 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:Eb % B|B2 G E2 F|G2 A B2 A|G2 F E2 D| E3 z B| B2 B e2 d|c2 c B2 B|A2 G F2 E|F3 z B| BBB B2 B|c2 c c2 B|A2 F G2 A|B3 z B| E2 F G2 A|B2 B B2 A|G2 F E2 D|E3 z2| Bowton's Yard At number three, reet facin' t'pump, Ned Grimshaw keeps a shop, He's Eccles Cakes an' ginger bread, an' traycle, beer an' pop; He sells oat cakes an' o' does Ned, 'e 'as both soft an' 'ard An' everybody buys off 'im as lives i' Bowton's Yard. At number five Aw live mesel' wi' owd Susannah Grimes, But dunno' like so verra weel, hoo turns me eawt sometimes- An when Aw'm in there's ne'er no light, Aw 'ave to ceawer i'the'dark, Aw conno' pay mi lodgin' brass, becose Aw'm eawt o' wark. At number seven there's nobry lives, they flitted yesterday, Bum baylies come an' marked their things an' took 'em aw away; They took 'em in a Donkey Cart, Aw know not where they went, Aw reckon they'n bin ta'en and sowd becose they owed some ' rent. At number nine, th'owd cobbler lives, th'owd chap as mends mi shoon, He's gotten verra weak an' done, he'll 'ave to leave us soon; He reads his bible every day an' sings just like a lark He says he's practisin' for Heaven, he's welly done his wark. At number 'leven me uncle lives, Aw co' him Uncle Turn, He goes to concerts up an' down an' plays a kettle drum; I' bands o'music an' such things he allus takes a pride An' allus makes as big a noise as o'i'th'place beside. An' now Aw've done Aw'll say goodbye an' leave yo' for a while Aw kneaw Aw haven't towd mi tale i' such a fost rate style If you're well pleased Aw'm satisfied an'ax for no reward For tellin' who me neighbors is 'at lives i'Bowton's Yard. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Brian O'Lynn From: Sky Sailor Date: 01 Oct 08 - 08:16 AM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Brian O'Lynn %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:5 T:Brian O'Lynn R:Folk Song M:6/8 C:Trad O:England L:1/8 Q:1/4=200 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:F % FFF AAA|GFG F2 F|AAA c2 c| BAB A2 A|ccc ccc|ddd G2 A| BBB B2 B|ccc ACC|F3 z GA| c3 z2 B|AGF GFE|F6|| Brian O'Lynn Brian O'Lynn were a gentle-man born Helived in a time when no clothes were worn When fashions stepped out Brian O'Lynn he stepped in "I think it'll do," said Brian O'Lynn, "It'll do" "It'll do," said Brian O'Lynn. "It'll do." Brian O'Lynn had no breeches to wear, So he got him a sheepskin to make him a pair With the skinny side out and the woolly side in "They're beautiful warm," said Brian O'Lynn "And they'll do, they'll do," said Brian O'Lynn. "They'll do". Brian O'Lynn had no watch for to wear, So he got him a turnip and scooped it out fair, He got a live cricket and stuck it within "They'll think its a ticker" said Brian O'Lynn "It'll do, it'll do" said Brian O'Lynn. "It'll do". Brian O'Lynn, his house had no door, He'd the sky for a roof and muck for the floor, A way to jump out and a way to swim in ' "I get lots of fresh air" said Brian O'Lynn "It'll do, it'll do," said Brian O'Lynn. "It'll do." Brian O'Lynn went to fetch his wife home, He'd nobbut one horse that was all skin and bone He seated her on it as neat as a pin "I can't tell them apart," said Brian O'Lynn "It'll do, it'll do," said Brian O'Lynn. "It'll do." Brian O'Lynn his wife and wife's mother Were all going over the bridge together The bridge it broke and the woman fell in, "You'll find land at the bottom," said Brian O'Lynn "It'll do, it'll do" said Brian O'Lynn. "It'll do". |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: The Calico Printer's Clerk From: Sky Sailor Date: 01 Oct 08 - 08:19 AM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Calico Printer's Clerk, The %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:6 T:Calico Printer's Clerk, The R:Folk Song M:C| C:Trad O:England L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:G % D2|G2 GG-G2 G2| dd-d4 d2|cc-c2 B2 B2|A4 z2 d2| e2 e2 dd-d2|c2 c2 B3 B|A2 GF-F2 G2|A6 dd| e2 e2 e2 c2|d2 d4 BB|c3 B A2 B2|c6 d2| G2 G2 Bd-d2|e2 d2 cB-B2|A2 A2 AB c2|B6 d2 d2| e e3 e2 c2|d2 d4 BB|c2 B2 A2 Bc-|c6 d2| G2 G2 B3 d|e2 dc-c2 BB|AA G2 F2 A2|G8-|G6 z2| The Calico Printer's Clerk . . . In Manchester that city of cotton twist and twills, There lived the subject of my song, the cause of all my ills, She was handsome, young and twenty and her eyes were azure blue Admirers she had plenty and her name was Dorothy Drew. CHORUS She was very fond of dancing, but allow me to remark, One fine day she danced away with the calico printer's clerk. At a private ball I met her in 1863, I never can forget her, though she proved unkind to me, I was dressed in pink of fashion, my lavender gloves were new And I danced the Valse Circasian with charming Dorothy Drew. We Schottished and we Polka'd to the strains the band did play, We Valsed and we Mazurka'd till she Valsed my heart away I whispered in this fashion, as round the room we flew, Doing the Varsovinia "I love you, Dorothy Drew". For months and months attention unto her I did pay, Till, with her condescension, she led me quite astray, The money I expended, I'm ashamed to tell to you But I'll tell you how it ended with myself and Dorothy Drew. I received an intimation she a visit meant to pay Unto a near relation who lived some miles away, In a month she'd be returning, I must make a short adieu, But her love for me was burning, oh deceitful Dorothy Drew. At nine o'clock next morning, to breakfast I sat down, The smile my face adorning soon turned into a frown For in the morning paper, a paragraph met my view: Jones the Calico Printer's Clerk had married Dorothy Drew. |
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Subject: RE: Songbook - Folk Songs Of Lancashire From: MMario Date: 01 Oct 08 - 08:28 AM wheeeeeeee! Thank you! |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Coal Pickin' From: Sky Sailor Date: 01 Oct 08 - 08:33 AM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Coal Pickin' %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:7 T:Coal Pickin' R:Folk Song M:2/4 C:Trad O:England L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:G % z2 z z/2E/2|GA/2B/2-BE|G<A E>E|DD DF|E2 z G/2A/2| Bd/2e/2-ed|BE/2E/2-EB|A<G ED|E2 z2|| Coal Pickin' When I were just a little lad There were no time for play, For it's "Up you get andwith yer dad, Coalpickin'," Ma would say. Now in the year of Twenty-six, The times were very hard, The mines had all come out on strike, It was quiet in the coal pit yard. So up onto the rooks we'd go To see what we could find, There'd be many a one we'd see up there, With thoughts the same in mind. Now in the summer of Twenty-six, It was exceeding hot, But we'd sweat all day in the burning heat 'Till we knew we had our lot. Our blackened hands were cracked and sore, Wi' scrattin' through the slag, And the small reward we got for it Was one-and-six a bag. Ah'm owder now and glad to say, Me life has not been bad, But I'll not forget those days I went Coal pickin' with me dad. |
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Subject: Lyr/Tune Add: THE COCKERHAM DEVIL From: Sky Sailor Date: 01 Oct 08 - 08:52 AM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Cockerham Devil, The %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:9 T:Cockerham Devil, The R:Folk Song M:6/8 C:Trad O:England L:1/8 Q:1/4=200 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:C % z ed|:cAA ABA|GEE E2 E|AAA GGG| F2 F Eed|cAA ABA|GEE E2 E/2E/2| AAA GGG|1AAA G2 G|EEE E^F^G| A3 z ed:|2AAA GGG|EEE EEE|A,3|| The Cockerham Devil It is said that in Cockerham the Devil did dwell Sing twiddie um twaddie um hi foilee It is said that in Cockerham the Devil did dwell, So afraid were the people, they wished him in Hell, The people all wished him in Hell. So they called the schoolmaster, a wise man and true, Sing twiddle um twaddle um hi follee So they called the schoolmaster a wise man and true To see if this difficult task he could do This difficult task he could do. The Devil he came to this stout hearted man Sing twiddle um twaddle um hi follee The Devil he came to this stout hearted man Saying "Set me an impossible task if you can Impossible task if you can." "First on the thorns you must count the dew drops Sing twiddle um twaddle um hi follee First on the thorns you must count the dew drops And then count the ears on yon fine field of crops The ears on yon fine field of crops." The Devil took off and away he did fly Sing twiddle um twaddle um hi follee The Devil took off and away he did fly And to the schoolmaster returned by and by Schoolmaster returned by and by. "You've got one more chance," said the Devil with glee Sing twiddle um twaddle um hi follee "You've got one more chance," said the Devil with glee, "And then my fine fellow you're coming with me Fine fellow you're coming with me. "Plait a rope of fine sand that you find on the moss Sing twiddle um twaddle um hi follee "Plait a rope of fine sand that you find on the moss And then you must wash it without any loss Must wash it without any loss." The Devil he tried it again and again Sing twiddle um twaddle um hi follee The Devil he tried it again and again And again and again and again and again Again and again and again. The Devil he ranted and roared and he raved Sing twiddle um twaddle um hi follee The Devil he ranted and roared and he raved "I've won," said the master, "my soul it is saved,' Said the master, "my soul it is saved." Now if anyone living should want any proof There's a bridge out at Pilling with the marks of a hoof Where the Devil he landed from Cockerham church roof On his way to his home down in Hell. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: The Cockfight From: Sky Sailor Date: 01 Oct 08 - 09:00 AM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Cockfight, The %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:10 T:Cockfight, The R:Folk Song M:C| C:Trad O:England L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:C % ed|c2 A2 AB c2|B2 E2 E3 E|A2 AA A2 c2| B e2 e-e4|c2 AA A2 c2|B2 E2 E2 z2| e e2 c d2 BB|[M:2/4]E2 ^G2|[M:C|] A4 z4| The Cockfight Come all you colliers far and near, I'll tell of a cock-fight when and where, Out on the moors I heard them say Between the Black and the Bonny Grey. Now the first come in was the Owdham lads They bet with all the brass they had, The reason why, they all did say, The Black's too big for yer Bonny Grey. Well, it's into the pub to take a sup, The cockfight it was soon made up, Ten guineas a side these cocks will play, The Charcoal Black and the Bonny Grey. The Owdham lads stood shoutin' round "We'll lay yer a quid to half a crown, If our Black Cock he gets fair play, He'll rip the wings off yer Bonny Grey." So the cocks they at it and the Grey was tossed, And the Owdham lads cried "Now ye've lost!" Which made our lads to go right pale, We wished we'd fought for a barrel of ale. The cocks they at it, one, two, three, The Charcoal Black got poked in th'ee, They picked him up to see fair play, But the Black wouldn't fight with t'Bonny Grey. With his silver breast and his silver wing, He's fit to fight before the king. Horray hooray, oh, hooray hooray, And away we went with our Bonny Grey. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: The Cock Pecked Wife From: Sky Sailor Date: 01 Oct 08 - 09:08 AM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Cock Pecked Wife, The %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:8 T:Cock Pecked Wife, The R:Folk Song M:3/4 C:Trad O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 Q:120 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:C E2 G2 G2|E G3 G2|A2 F2 A2|G4 G2| c c3 c2|G2 E2 E2|E2 D2 C2|D4 D2| E2 G2 G2|E2 G3 G|A2 F2 A2|G4 G2| c c3 c2|G3 E C2|F2 E2 D2|C6| E3 F G2|E G3 G2|A2 FA-A2|AB c2 z2| c2 B2 c2|G E3 C2|F2 E2 D2|C6| The Cock Pecked Wife Aw'm a wed woman and noone can tell What troubles Aw go through each week by mesel Mi 'usband Aw'll tell you he's seldom in sight He picks up his bones and goes out every night CHORUS Fol the dol diddle um, winka doll diddleum I'm a wed woman and in a fine mess We've three hearty childer both bonny and sound, There isn't three nicer for fifty miles round. Mi owdest wears breeches, we christened him Sam, Mi youngest still seawks and it's co'd Sarah Ann. There's one thing will never go out of mi yed The way Aw were treated afore Aw got wed, Mi 'usband Aw'll tell yo' without any joke Would run like a gawby to carry mi cloak. Now if Aw ax 'im i' kindness and smiles, To tak me off out if it's nobbut two miles, He'll maul away fust, seldom look where I am An' hurry me whom again, quick as he can. When summer time comes oh he knows with what glee, Aw should welcome a trip to the side of the sea, But he tells me i' language as hard as a bone That women and childer are nicest at home. Sometimes Aw'm as happy as Aw con desire, When he sits wi' a child on each knee by the fire, But that's not so long ere it comes to an end An' he'll tek up his cap and goo visit a friend. Aw towd him some hunnerds of times that he's wed An' read him a dozen good lectures i' bed, But aw to no use Aw may lecture or weep, He turns himsel' ower and snores like a sheep. So maidens Aw've towd you this tale for your sake And give you a warnin' Aw know you won't take, But rock a bye babby will come in its time And then you mun know all the truth of my rhyme. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: The Collier Lass From: Sky Sailor Date: 01 Oct 08 - 09:22 AM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Collier Lass, The %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:11 T:Collier Lass, The R:Folk Song M:3/4 C:Trad O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 Q:120 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:G G2|G2 F2 E2|D2 G2 d2|c2 B2 A2|G2 =F2 D2| G2 F2 E2|D G3 d2|c2 B2 G2|G4 G2| c3 d e2|d4 d2|c2 B2 G2|=F2 E3 D| G2 F2 E2|D4 Gd|c2 B2 A2|G4| The Collier Lass My name's Polly Parker, I'm come o'er from Worsley. My father and mother work in a coal mine My family's large, we've got seven children And so I am forced to work down the coal mine. And for my misfortune, I know you'll feel sorry That in such employment my days they should pass, But I keep up my spirits, I sing and keep merry Although I am nowt but a collier lass. By the greatest of dangers each day we're surrounded, I hang in the air by a rope and a chain, The mine may fall in I may be killed or wounded May perish by fire damp or the fire of a train, And what would you do were it not for our labour? In wretched starvation your days they would pass. While we can provide you with life's greatest blessings Oh do not despise a poor collier lass. All the day long you may see we are buried, Deprived of the light and the warmth of the sun, And often at night from our beds we are hurried, The water is in and barefooted we run. Although we are ragged and black are our faces, As kind and as free as the best we're found And our hearts are as right as your lords in high places Although we're poor colliers that work underground. |
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Subject: RE: Songbook - Folk Songs Of Lancashire From: GUEST, Sminky Date: 01 Oct 08 - 10:10 AM Great stuff, Sky Sailor. I hope you don't think I'm being churlish, but for the sake of completeness: Calico Printer's Clerk - words by Harry Clifton (1832-1872) Bowton's Yard - words by Samuel Laycock (1826-1893) Cockerham Devil - copyright Pru and Roger Edwards of Pilling |
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Subject: RE: Songbook - Folk Songs Of Lancashire From: Sky Sailor Date: 01 Oct 08 - 12:16 PM Thanks Sminky I will put the credits right when Joe Offer allows me to edit this thread. (I have asked!!) |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: The Devil And Little Mike From: Sky Sailor Date: 01 Oct 08 - 12:51 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% The Devil And Little Mike %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:1 T:Devil And Little Mike, The R:Folk Song M:6/8 C:Trad O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:Dm D2 D D2 E|F2 F F2 D|G2 F E2 F|G3 z2 G|\ D2 D D2 E|F2 E F2 A|GGF E2 F|E3 z3|\ A2 A A2 =B|c2 c c2 G|A2 G A2 =B|c3 z2 A|\ d2 A A2 A|A2 F F2 F|G2 A G F2|E3 z3|\ D2 E F G2|A3 F3|G2 F E C2|D6|-D6| The Devil and Little Mike It was on a dusky night when we were very poor, My story oh you may believe, The Devil came to the door, In his hand he had an hook, his eyes were burning bright, He said unto my sister Suke, "I want your brother Mike." CHORUS Fol the riddle I do, fol the riddle damn. I knew his voice in a minute 'cos I'd heard it oft before, As sprightly as a linnet, I flew behind the door, His eyes with fire oh they did glare, I gave a terrible groan And I said unto my sister Suke "Tell him I'm not at home!" The Devil he flew in a pet and swore he would come in, "If you do", said sister Bet, "I'll knock you out again!" Then he into the room took flight, how he did stamp and swore, When he found poor little Mike sat behind the door. The old Mam she jumped off a chair and broke his head with a broom The Devil then he trumped and with sulphur filled the room, It was on a washing night, the water was boiling hot, She give to him a left and right and tumbled him into the pot. Then my little sister Peg, at fighting she'd a knack, With me grandad's wooden leg she broke the Devil's back. He sung out loudly for his palls as loud as he could shout And me and my big sister Sal we beat the Devil out. The next day the Devil died and weren't we glad to hear, They took him and they buried him down at Bury fair So since we've nothing more to fear, fill our glasses bright And as the Devil's dead and gone, we'll do just as we like. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: From The North From: Sky Sailor Date: 01 Oct 08 - 01:14 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% From The North %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:12 T:From The North R:Folk Song M:2/4 C:Trad O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 Q:80 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:D A|A<A AG|F<D DD|EE AA|D2 z2| AA AG|FD D<D|E<E AA|D2 z2| BB B<G|A<F D2|AA A<G|A4| AA AG|F<D DD/2D/2|E2 A2! D2 z| From the North I wish Iwas in Lancashire A' huntin' o' the hare, All across the wide moorlands, The hollows brown and bare, Hearkening to the good hounds cry, Hearkening to the horn, Far away in Lancashire, on a windy morn. I wish I was in Lancashire Along the folks I know, Ranging o'er the countryside In all the winds that blow, As they blew when I was yet a lad In the place where I was born, Far away in Lancashire, on a good fine hunting morn. There's gradely hounds in Lancashire As such there always were, There's gradely hills in Lancashire Although they're bleak and bare, There's gradely lads i' Lancashire And that I'll tell you true, And I wish I was in Lancashire, a huntin' o'er the dew. I long to be in Lancashire A huntin' o' the hare All across the wide moorlands And the hollows brown and bare, Hearkening to the good hounds cry, Hearkening to the horn, Far away in Lancashire, on a windy morn. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Gossip Joan From: Sky Sailor Date: 02 Oct 08 - 03:01 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Gossip Joan %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:13 T:Gossip Joan R:Folk Song M:2/4 C:Trad O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:C G|c>c EF|G3 c|A>A A>A|A G2 G|c>c EF|G3 c| A>A A>A|A G3 cB|AA AF|GG GE|FF FE| EG c|-c3 G|AB cd e2 d2|c2 B2|c2 z| Gossip Joan Good mornin' Gossip Joan, where 'as ta bin so early? Good morn_in' Gos_sip Joan, where 'asta bin so ear _ ly, So early in the mornin', mornin', mornin', mornin', mornin' So early in the mornin', Gossip Joan? Our brindle cow has calved, right under parlour winder, Our brindle cow has calved, right under parlour winder, And yon calf it will not suck, suck, suck, suck, suck, We'll 'ave to give it finger, Gossip Joan. Me petticoat Ah've lost, Aw left it at mi grannie's, Me petticoat Ah've lost, Aw left it at mi grannie's An' I'll fetch it in the mornin', mornin', mornin', mornin' mornin', I'll fetch it in the mornin', Gossip Joan. Our duck has swallowed a snail, now isn't that a wonder? Our duck has swallowed a snail, now isn't that a wonder? And it all came out of its tail, tail, tail, tail, tail And split its arse asunder, Gossip Joan. Oh Kate Aw've seen thy XXX, Nay th'art a lyin' bugger. Oh Kate Aw've seen thy XXX, Nay, th'art a lyin' bugger. Tha's nobbut seen mi armhole, armhole, armhole, armhole, armhole, Tha's nobbut seen mi armhole, Gossip Joan. There's lots more verses to this song, but we aren't goin' to sing 'em, There's lots more verses to this song, but we aren't goin' to sing 'em, So we'll wish you all goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, We'll wish you all goodnight, goodnight, goodnight. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Johnny Sands From: Sky Sailor Date: 02 Oct 08 - 03:03 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Johnny Sands %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:16 T:Johnny Sands R:Folk Song M:6/8 C:Trad O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:D A|d2 d d2 d|d d2 F2 F|G E2 A2 A|D3 z2 d| e2 e e2 e|e2 e e2 e|c2 A BB^G|A3-A2 G| F2 A ddc|d3-d2| Johnny Sands Oh there was a man called Johnny Sands, He married Betty Haig, And though she brought him gold and lands, She proved a terrible plague, She proved a terribleplague. For she became a scolding wife, Full of caprice and whim, He said that he was tired of life She said she was tired of him, She said she was tired of him. He says "I'll go and drown meself, The river lies below." She said "Pray do ye silly owd bugger I wished it long ago, I wished it long ago." Says he "Upon the brink I'll stand, While you run down the hill To push me in with all your might". She said "My love, I will," She said "My love, I will". "For fear that I should courage lack And try to save my life, Pray tie my hands behind my back." "I will," replied his wife, "I will," replied his wife. She tied them fast as you may think And when securely done "Now stand," she said, "upon the brink While I prepare to run, While I prepare to run." Then down the hill, his loving wife She ran with all her force, To push him in, he stepped aside And she fell in of course, And she fell in of course. She were splashin' dashin' like a fish "Oh save me Johnny Sands!" "I can't dear wife, though much I wish, For you have tied me hands, For you have tied me hands." |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: John O'Grinfilt's Ramble From: Sky Sailor Date: 02 Oct 08 - 03:07 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% John O'Grinfilt's Ramble %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:1 T:John O'Grinfilt's Ramble R:Folk Song M:3/4 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:A E2|E2 A2 A2|A4 A2|G2 B2 G2|E4 EE| E3 B B2|B2 c2 d2|c2 e2 c2|A4 z A| c2 e2 e2 e2 d3 c|d2 e2 f2|B4 B2| B3 c d2|d2 c2 B2|c3 d e2|A4 GF| E2 A2 A2|A4 A2|B2 c2 d2|d4 d2| e2 c2 A2|d B3 =G2|A6|-A6| John O'Grinfilt's Ramble Said John to his wife one hot summer's day, "Aw'm resolved that in Grinfilt no longer Aw'll stay, But Aw'll goo to Owdham as fast as Aw con, So fare thee well Grinfilt an' fare thee well Nan, For a sodger Aw'll be, brave Owdham Aw'll see, An' Aw'll goo an' 'ave a battle Wi' t' French." "Dear John" cried our Nan and hoo bitterly cried, "Wilt tha be one of t'Foot or dost mean for to ride?" "Ee lass, I'll ride either ass or a mule, Ere I'll cower in Grinfilt as black as the Dule, For both clemmin' and starvin' wi' nerry a farthin' It 'ud welly drive any mon mad." "Ay Jone sin we cum i' Grinfilt for to dwell, We've had mony a bare meal Aw con very well tell." "Bare meal, egod aye! That Aw very well know, There's been three days this week as we've 'ad nowt at all, An' Aw'm very near sided, afore Aw'll abide it, Aw'll goo 'ave a battle wi' t' French!" Then dahn t' broo Aw come for we livent at top, Aw swore Aw'd goo to Owdham afore Aw should stop, Egod how they stared when Aw cum dahn through Mumps, Mi owd hat in mi hond an' me clogs full o' stumps, But Aw very soon towd 'em Aw were gooin' to Owdham An' Aw'd 'ave a battle wi' t' French. Well they took me to t' place where they measure their height, An' they retched me md stretched me until Aw were right, An' they retched me and stretched me an' Aw never flinched, Says t' sergeant Owd lad, thart mel, man to an inch". So Aw thowt this'li do awst ave guineas enoo, Egod! Owdham. brave Owdham for me! So fare thee well Grinfilt, a codger Aw'm made, Aw've git some new shoon and a fancy cockade, Aw'st feet for owd Englond as 'ard as Aw con, Either French, Dutch or Spanitch, to me it's all one, An' Aw'll mek 'em to stare, like a new startled hare, An' Awll tell 'em from Owdham Aw've come. |
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Subject: Lyr/Tune Add: JULY WAKES From: Sky Sailor Date: 02 Oct 08 - 03:09 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% July Wakes %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:17 T:July Wakes R:Folk Song M:2/4 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:C D>D dA|c>d A2|z/2 G/2G/2G/2 cB/2B/2|A/2G/2F-FE/2E/2| D>D d>d cd A2|z3/2 A A/2AA/2|-A2 z2| July Wakes Looms are swept an' t' brass is drawn, An' me an' Jack we'll be up at dawn An' we're off to beg or steal or pawn, For t'July Wakes. We've sweat for one and fifty weeks, An' human limbs, like looms, they'll creak, So we'll go and climb up Pendle Cheek, And rest us limbs. Well roam in t'woods an sprawl in th' hay An' watch great clouds swing up at play, And if they brast, we'll turn that way, And taste clean rain. We'll follow rivers up to t' sky, And watch great fishes swimmin' by An' we'll sup from brooks when we get dry, And stand up men. Day's carefree 'till Jack, downcast, Watchin' larks ond linnets racin' past, Hears the hooters moan through the linnet's blast, To 'ell wi t'looms Cos Monday'll see us back in t' shed. Watchin' shuttles spewin' out miles and miles of thread, And we'll be weavin' fifty one weeks of bread, And one of life. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: King Cotton From: Sky Sailor Date: 02 Oct 08 - 03:11 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% King Cotton %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:18 T:King Cotton R:Folk Song M:2/4 C:Mike Harding O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:Dm d d2 d|d2 A=B|c =B2 G|A D3|-D4| z ddd|d2 A=B|c d2 A|-A4|-A4| z GGG|G2 G2|A3 D/2D/2|C D3|-D4| D2 AA|G G2 A|CD E2|D4|-D4| King Cotton See how the lint flies out over the moorland, See how the smoke to the valley clings, See how the slate roofs shine in the drizzle, This is the valley where Cotton is King. See how houses cling to the hillside, Hear how the streets of children sing, Wake to the scream of the factory hooter, This is the valley where Cotton is King. See how hunger has eaten the faces, Tired flesh to the bones just clings, There's dust in the lungs and the bodies are twisted, This is the valley where Cotton is King. Sleep is washed from the broken faces, Morning clogs on the cobbles ring, Off to the mill, the weavers hurry, This is the valley where Cotton is King. Work all day to the looms' hard rhythm, Scrabble and toil till your tired bones sing, Then you crawl back home as the gaslights flicker, This is the valley where Cotton is King. This is the land where children labour, Where Life and Death mean the self same thing, Where the many must work that the few might prosper, This is the valley where Cotton is King. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: The Lancashire Lads From: Sky Sailor Date: 02 Oct 08 - 03:13 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Lancashire Lads, The %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:19 T:Lancashire Lads, The R:Folk Song M:4/4 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:Fm C E|F2 F2 F2 EF|A4 B4|c2 BA F2 C2| E6 CE| F2 F2 F2 EF|A A2 B-B4|c2 BA F2 E2|F8| e2 c2 cB A2|BB G2 E3 B|c2 BA F2 C2|E6 CE| FF F2 F2 EF|A2 A2 B2 AB|c2 BA F2 E2|F6| The Lancashire Lads It was last Monday morning, As I have heard them say, Our orders came from Manches ter, We were to march away, Leaving many a pretty fair maid To cry "What shall I do? For the Lancashire Lads have gone a broad Whatever shall I do?" Said the mother to her daughter "What makes you talk so strange, To want to marry a Lancashire Lad, The whole wide world to range? Soldiers they are but rambling lads And get but little pay, Can they maintain a wife and child On eighteen pence a day?" Said the mother to her daughter "I'll have you close confined, You'll never marry a Lancashire Lad, Hell be no son of mine." "Should you confine me seven long years And afterwards set me free, I'd go and look for my Lancashire Lad When I gained my liberty. "Were you to see them marching As they muster up for parade, With the fife and drum before them, So merrily they do play, With their scarlet coats and three cocked hats They look so fine and gay, And my curses on those cruel wars That have taken my love away. "For my love he's dressed in scarlet And jackets of the blue, And every town that he goes through To his sweethart he'll prove true". "Aye we'll have sweethearts enough me lads And girls that'll please our minds But we'll never forget sweet Manchester, And the girls that we've left behind." |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: The Lancashire Miller From: Sky Sailor Date: 02 Oct 08 - 03:25 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Lancashire Miller, The %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:1 T:Lancashire Miller, The R:Folk Song M:6/8 C:Trad O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:Gm D|GGB A2 c|Bcd c2 A|BAG A2 F|G3 z2 D| G2 B ABc|Bcd c2 A|BAG A2 F|G3 z2 d| eee e2 c|d2 d d2 G|B2 G c2 B|G3 z2 D| G2 B2 A2 c|Bcd c2 A|BAG A2 F|G6|-G3-G2| The Lancashire Miller Owd Jeremy Grig a miller were he i' Lancashire born an' bred. The mill were all he depended upon,to earn him his daily bread. Owd Jeremy he were growin' owd, his latter end were near, He had three sons, it troubled him sore, which of 'em would be his heir. He called to him his eldest son "An answer give to me What will tha tek thy livin' to mek if t'mill were given to thee?" "If the mill were mine," said he, "Ah'll plainly tell to you Out of every sack Ah'd tek a peck as you've been used to do". Well he called to him his second son "An answer give to me What way would tha tek thy livin' to mek if t'mill were given to thee?" "If the mill were mine," said he, "as sure as my name is Ralph Instead of a peck out of every sack I'm sure I'd tek an 'alf." He called to him his youngest son, his youngest son were Will "Upon the answer you give to me depends who gets the mill." "Oh if the mill were mine," said Will, "my livin' for to make Instead of an 'alf, Ah'd tek all t'lot an' swear 'em out of the sack." Owd Jeremy he sat up in bed to hear him talk so smart Sayin' "Well done Will, tha's won the mill, a lad after mi own heart" The other two looked rayther blue and swore it were too bad, But little Will he got the mill and t'devil he got the dad. |
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Subject: RE: Songbook - Folk Songs Of Lancashire From: Ross Campbell Date: 02 Oct 08 - 07:55 PM "From The North" is by Cicely Fox-Smith, tune set by Gary Aspey. Ross |
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Subject: RE: Songbook - Folk Songs Of Lancashire From: Ross Campbell Date: 02 Oct 08 - 08:15 PM Thought I had the book handy but can't find it - "Songs of Moor and Fell' (?) by Cicely Fox-Smith. I suspect her entire works are now included in Charley Noble's OldPoetry website OldPoetry (This link isn't working for me in Safari) Ross |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: The Little Piecer From: Sky Sailor Date: 02 Oct 08 - 09:20 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Little Piecer, The %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:20 T:Little Piecer, The R:Folk Song M:4/4 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:G z2 Bd c A3|B G3 D4|z2 DD E F3|G2 AD-D4| z2 Bd c2 A|B G3 D4|z2 DD E3 F|G6 z2| The Little Piecer Buzzer's blowin', Willie lad, Lights are blazin' down below, Come on, best get ready lad, Time for you to go. 'Sithee Owd Wilson's shut his gate Henry Arkwright's crossin' t'fowd, Come on lad, best not be late, Though t'mornin's dark an' cowd. Kettle's boiled an' yer cocoa's brewed, Yer'll find a bun on t'cellar head, Daylight's breakin' ower th'hill Come on lad it's time for t'mill. Schooldays over, Willie lad Time to earn your daily bread Clogs are rattlin' in the streets Come lad raise yer weary head. Buzzer's blowin', Willie lad Lights are blazin' down below, Come on, best get ready lad It's time for you to go. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: The Manchester Angel From: Sky Sailor Date: 02 Oct 08 - 09:22 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Manchester Angel, The %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:21 T:Manchester Angel, The R:Folk Song M:6/8 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:Cm D|E2 E E2 F|G2 A BAG|F2 E C2 B,|C3 z2 c| c2 d eed|c3 B2 c|AAA AGF|G3 z2 c| c2 d eed|c3 B2 c|AAB G2 F|G3 z C/2C/2| E2 F G2 A|B2 A GFE|F2 E C2 B,|C3-C2| The Manchester Angel It's coming down to Manchester to gain my liberty, I met the prettiest doxy that ever my eyes did see, I met the prettiest doxy that ever my eye did see, At the Angel Inn in Manchester, there lives the girl for me. 'Twas early the next morning just at the break of day I went to my love's bedside, my morning vows to pay I huddled her, I cuddled her I bade her to lie warm, "Ah," she said "my jolly soldier do you mean to me some harm?" "Oh to mean you any harm my love is a thing that I would scorn, If I stopped along with you all night, I'd marry you in the morn, Before my lawful officer my vows I will fulfil." She said "My jolly soldier you may lie as long as you will". Our rout came on the Thursday, on the Monday we marched away The drums and fifes and bugles, so sweetly they did play, Oh some hearts they were merry, but mine was full of woe, She says "May I go along with you?" "Oh no, my love, oh no!" "Coat waistcoat and breeches love I freely will put on, And pass love for your comrade as we do march along, Before all of your officers, my duty I will do Oh let me go along with you," and still he answered "No". "If you should stand on sentry-go on a cold and bitter day, Your colours they would go love, your beauty would decay If I saw you handle a musket love, it would fill my heart with woe So stay at home dear Nancy love," but still she answered "No". "I'll go down to your officer and buy you your discharge, Ten guineas I'll surrender to have you set at large And if that will not do, love, along with you I'll go So will you take me with you now?" and still he answered "No". "I'll go down to some nunnery and there I'll end my life I never will be married now, I'll be no young man's wife But constant and true hearted love, forever I'll remain And I never will be married 'till my soldier comes again." |
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Subject: RE: Tune/Lyrics ADD: The Manchester Chambermaid From: Sky Sailor Date: 03 Oct 08 - 04:18 AM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Manchester Chambermaid, The %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:1 T:Manchester Chambermaid, The R:Folk Song M:6/8 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:G d|B2 G G2 G|D2 G G2 G|A2 B c2 B|A3 z2 D| G2 G B2 d|d2 d c2 A|G G2 F2 A|G3 z2 G| G2 E F2 G|A2 A A2 A|G2 E F2 G|A3 z3| A2 G F2 G|A2 A d2 F|(4F2A2G2E2|(D/E/F/G/A/B/ c3)| B2 G G2 G|G3 G2 G|A2 B c2 B|A3 z2 D| G G2 B d2|d2 d c2 A|(4G2G2F2A2|G3-G2| The Manchester Chambermaid There was an inn in Manchester, the Cornstalk is the sign, A public where cornmercial travellers often drink and dine. One Christmas time a traveller, as always was his use, Called to spend his holidays and cook his Christmas goose. CHORUS All around the green wood so early in the morn The merry, merry hunts man blows his silver bugle horn. He drank his pint of sherry wine and smoked a mild cigar, He chatted to the customers and people in the bar, There was no thought of wickedness ere entered in his head Until the chambermaid appeared to light his way to bed. And then he grew harmonious, he squeezed her in the stairs, He kissed her by the chamber door before he said his prayers, He gave to her a guinea to prevent her being vexed, And then he blew the candle out, and you can guess the rest. Next morning then this traveller rose and went to pay the bill He tipped the boots and tossed the landlord for a parting gill And where he went to afterwards is not for me to say Suffice he went to cook his goose again next Christmas day. For Christmas time came round again which filled his heart with glee He travelled round from town to town and strange sights he did see He ended up in Manchester at the Cornstalk for the night, The Cornstalk where twelve months before he found so much delight. He went into the coffee room as jolly as could be, Where lots of customers like himself were waiting there for tea, He ordered of the very best the larder could produce And called the waiter back again saying "Don't forget the goose". Right speedily a tray was brought with eatables galore And by that self same chambermaid he'd kissed twelve months before, But then he saw beneath the cloth on which the food was piled Instead of a goose she'd brought to him a big, fat, bouncing child. And then he stared astoundedly "What does this mean?" said he "Come sit you down and calm yourself I'll tell you, sir," said she. "Last Christmas time, you generous were, pray do not think it strange A guinea you did give to me, now I have brought your change!" |
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Subject: Lyr/Tune Add: THE MANCHESTER MOLECATCHER From: Sky Sailor Date: 03 Oct 08 - 04:37 AM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Manchester Molecatcher, The %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:23 T:Manchester Molecatcher, The R:Folk Song M:3/4 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:C G2|c2 c2 e2|cc G2 G2|F2 F2 G2|C6| c3 G G2|G4 c2|d3 G G2|G4 e2| e3 d c2|d c3 c2|B c3 d2|G6| e3 d c2|f f3 e2|d3 c B2|c6|-c4| The Manchester Molecatcher In Manchester City at the sign of the Bell, Lord till I day sing Lord till I day, There lived a molecatcher, I knew him right well, Lord till I riddle I Lord till I day. He'd go a molecatching from morning to night Lord till I day sing Lord till I day And a young fellow came for to play with his wife Lord till I riddle I Lord 'till I day. Now the molecatcher's jealous of the very same thing, Lord till I day sing Lord till I day So he hid in the wash house to watch him come in Lord till I riddle I Lord 'till I day. Now as this young feller jumped over the stile Lord till I day sing Lord till I day It caused the molecatcher so foxy to smile Lord till I riddle I Lord 'till I day. He knocked on the door as this he did say... Lord till I day sing Lord till I day "Where is your husband good woman I pray?". Lord till I riddle I Lord 'till I day. "Oh he's gone molecatchin' you needn't to fear . " Lord till I day sing Lord till I day But little did she know that her husband was near. Lord till I riddle I Lord 'till I day. For she ran up stairs and he followed at her sign . Lord till I day sing Lord till I day And the crafty molecatcher crept right up behind . Lord till I riddle I Lord 'till I day. Now while this young feller's in the midst of his frolics . . Lord till I day sing Lord till I day The molecatcher traps him right close by his bollicks . . Lord till I riddle I Lord 'till I day. As the trap it squeezed tighter, the molecatcher smiled, Lord till I day sing Lord till I day Sayin', "Here's the best mole that I've caught in a while . Lord till I riddle I Lord 'till I day. "I'll make you pay well lad for ploughin' me ground... Lord till I day sing Lord till I day "And the brass it'll cost you no less than ten pound . Lord till I riddle I Lord 'till I day. "Well", said the young feller, "the brass I don't mind" . Lord till I day sing Lord till-I day "For it only works out about tuppence a grind . . Lord till I riddle I Lord 'till I day. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Middleton Junction Band From: Sky Sailor Date: 03 Oct 08 - 04:59 AM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Middleton Junction Band %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:24 T:Middleton Junction Band R:Folk Song M:C| O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:G d2|B2 G2 G2 G2|D2 G4 G2|A E2 ^D2 E2 A6 G2| F2 d2 d2 d2|^c2 d2 d3 d|d2 c2 A2 ^A2|B6 d2| B2 G2 G2 G2|D2 G4 G2|A2 E2 ^D2 E2|A6 GA| c2 B2 c2 B2|c2 B2 A2 G2|FF D2 E2 F2|G2 F2 E2 D2|G2 F2 E2 D2| Middleton Junction Band We have a band in Junction, The good old Junction band, They practice every night, Behind the Bird I'th Hand. CHORUS Some works at the Junction And some works at the Jam, But they all join in the chorus For the Middleton Junction Band. Now Skinner were the leader, He had such big flat feet, You could always tell when t' Junction Band Were coming down our street. They entered for a contest, They thowt it were a gift, Only two bands entered And the junction band got biffed. The judge stood on the platform. He took 'em by surprise, He said "You've done right well me lads You've won the booby prize!" John Willy played the trombone, His slide it worked a treat, It pushed all t' kids in t' gutter As we marched down the street. Bert Higgins played the kettle drum, It wasn't half a sight, His wife she boiled the clothes in it Every Monday night. Now Skinner had a cornet A cornet made of lead We asked him where he geet it from And this is what he said: "I geet it from the Junction, The good old Junction band They practise every Friday night Behind the Bird i' th' Hand. |
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Subject: RE: Songbook - Folk Songs Of Lancashire From: JohnB Date: 03 Oct 08 - 06:45 AM "From the North" is from the Cicely Fox Smith book "Lancashire Hunting Songs and Other Moorland Lays" published in Manchester in 1909 by J E Cornish, Ltd. 16 St Ann's Square. A small, app 5X7 red bound book. I have a copy in my hand right now. I too have put these same words to song a few years ago, I must check out the Gary Aspey version. Maybe that's why the tune came so easily to me? Great work Sky Sailor, I have Mike's book, although not in hand. I would never even dreamed of putting in the effort to transcribe both words and abc's to it or any other book that size. JohnB |
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Subject: RE: Songbook - Folk Songs Of Lancashire From: Sky Sailor Date: 03 Oct 08 - 08:44 AM Thanks JohnB I did the ABC transcriptions over the summer for my own benefit. The lyrics are mainly due to OCR. I will be away over the weekend, so I will continue next week. Derek |
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Subject: RE: Songbook - Folk Songs Of Lancashire From: GUEST, Sminky Date: 03 Oct 08 - 09:12 AM Good job, Derek. Many thanks. Some people may be interested to know that there is a variant tune to John O'Grinfilt's Ramble published in the Manchester Literary Club Papers of 1912/3 (the oft-quoted Kidson's tune didn't appear until 1926). |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: My Owd Wife From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 05:59 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% My Owd Wife %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:25 T:My Owd Wife R:Folk Song M:2/4 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:G DG GG/2A/2|BG AG DG GA Bd A2| d/2d/2B cA|BG ED|d>d dc|BA G2| DG GG/2A/2|BG AG|DG G<A|Bd A2| dB cA|BG ED|d>d dc|BA G2| My Owd Wife My owd wife she's a good owd cratur, Never was a kinder born. Ne'er did owt that did displease me Since the wedding ring she's worn. CHORUS My owd wife is a good owd cratur: Brings my baccy, brings my beer, Ain't my wife a good owd cratur, An' ain't my wife a good owd dear? Some folks say she ain't a beauty But none can match her for her smile. She acts upright and does her duty She's fond of me and that's my style. We've lived many years together, We've seen ups and downs in Life, But through fine and stormy weather, She's always proved a faithful wife. And at night when work is over, She brings my bacca and my beer, So you see I live in clover. Ain't my wife a good owd dear? And when things they run three cornered She comes up to me so kind, Gives me a kiss and then she whispers "Don't get vexed love, never mind." And as sometimes it does happen I get beery now and then, She never does get nowty with me But welcomes me with "Ey up, Ben." Some folks live in bigger houses, Some folks live on finer cheer, None of them have got such spouses, No such baccy and no such beer. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Nancy From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 06:01 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Nancy %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:26 T:Nancy R:Folk Song M:4/4 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:Bb F|BB DE F3 F|GG EE D F2 F| BB DE F3 F|FG FE D B,3| d>c de f4|e>d cB A F3| d>c de f4|F>G FE D B,3| Nancy At eight o'clock at neet I went a courtin' Nancy. She come t' garden gate And said I weren't her fancy. CHORUS Toll de roll de ray Toll de roll de raddy Toll de roll de ray Toll de roll de rad dy. Moon were shinin' bright Roses blossomed sweetly. Aw asked her how it was She'd changed her mind completely. "Not I indeed", she says, "Will wisdom ne'er o'ertake thee? Aw nobbut went wi' thee Cos nob'dy else 'ud ax me! "But now there's Edwin James He works at Aaron Windle's He gets two pounds a week For grindin' weavers' spindles. He axt me t'other neet To take a walk in t' dingle An' now Aw'm certain sure A winnot long be single." Her hand dropped out o' mine. These words were like a dagger. Aw went dahn t' lane that neet But not wi' such a swagger. An' when Aw get me home Aw couldn't help but mutter If this is woman's love It's time Aw had me supper. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Owd Johnny Bugger From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 06:05 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Owd Johnny Bugger %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:27 T:Owd Johnny Bugger R:Folk Song M:C| O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:D A2 AA FF F2|E2 EE D2 D2|F2 F2 A2 A2|E2 A2 A4| A2 A2 F2 F2|EE E2 D3 D|F2 F2 A2 AA|E2 FE D4| D8|C2 E2 E4|E8|D2 F2 F4| A2 AA AA FF|GG B2 BB BB|AA A2 GF E2|D8| Owd Johnny Bugger Owd Johnny Bugger he lived by himself As long as he had perfect health. Then he thowt he'd get him a wife To darn his socks for the rest of his life. CHORUS I do believe, I do believe Owd Johnny Bugger were a silly Owd Bugger and a silly owd bugger were he. Owd Johnny Bugger he got him a wife, He'd never had a woman in all of his life, He got one thin but he wanted her plump So he blew the bugger up with a bicycle pump. Owd Johnny Bugger had an 'orse an' cart An' off to market he did start, At the bottom of the hill the poor horse stopped, He 'ad to shove the bugger from the bottom to the top. Owd Mrs. Bugger, she 'ad a bad leg, The doctor ordered her to bed, He sent for Johnny and when he come in He said "Rub your wife's left leg with gin". Owd Johnny Bugger he thowt it were a sin, To rub his wife's left leg with gin, So he upped with the gin and poured it down his throttle An' he rubbed his wife's left leg with the bottle. Owd Mrs. Bugger went swimmin' in the lake And that was the end of Johnny Bugger's mate. She could have been saved, there is no doubt, But there was no bugger there to pull the bugger out. The Lord made the bees and the bees make honey, The Lord made man and man made money The Lord made the Devil (Hitler, Harold Wilson etc) and he made Sin Let's dig a big hole and stick the bugger in. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Owd Johnny Walker From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 06:07 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Owd Johnny Walker %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:28 T:Owd Johnny Walker R:Folk Song M:C| O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancshire N:Mike Harding K:D D2 DD DDDD|D2 F2 F4|E2 E2 E2 E2|E2 FF G4| D2 D2 D2 D2|D2 FF A2 FA|BB BB A2 DD|E2 C2 D4| DD DD D2 DD D2 FF A2 F2|EEEE E2 EE|E2 FF G2 E2| DDDD D2 DD|D2 FF A2 D2 B2 B A2 D2|C4 D4| Owd Johnny Walker Owd John ny Walker went to Middleton Fair, Bowt three horses, one was a mare, One was blind and one couldn't see And the other had 'is 'ead where 'is tail should be. CHORUS Foil the diddle air diddle air diddle I do Foil the diddle air diddle air diddle I do Foil the diddle air diddle air diddle I do Foil the diddle I do He rode her up through Aiky wood He thowt it ud do 'er a bit of good Bunged her 'ead again a tree An' our owd mare was fit to dee. Owd Johnny Walker took his mare To sell her up at Appieby Fair She wouldn't fetch a farthin' there So he took 'er back home an' he sold 'er. Fetched her water in a kit That owd mare drunk every bit Fetched her treacle on a spoon And that old mare were dead by noon. Now when Johnny Walker's mare she died He cried and cried and cried and cried And cried and cried and cried and cried Till he drowned 'imself in t' water. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Owd Ned's A Rare Strong Chap From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 06:10 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Owd Ned's A Rare Strong Chap %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:29 T:Owd Ned's A Rare Strong Chap R:Folk Song M:6/8 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:F C|FFF FFF|FFF F2 F|G2 F E2 F|G3 z2 C/2C/2| G2 G GGG G2 G G2 G|A2 G F2 G|A3 z3| A2 A A2 A|AAA AAA|B2 A G2 A|B3 z2 G| B2 B BBB|BBB B2 B|c2 B A2 B|c3 A2 G| F3 f3|e3 d3|c3 c2 B|A6| c2 c-c2 c|A3 G3|F6|-F3-F2| Owd Ned's a Rare Strong Chap When I were a lad wi' me mam and me dad I never 'ad no fun, Till I took it into me head one day A way from whom I'd run. First I met two silly fat buggers, By crimes, they made me mad, For they were grinning all ower their face At me, an Owdham lad. CHORUS Like a fine owd English gentleman One of the owd brigade. First I came to a factory, I'd never been there before, There were ropes and straps and wheels and sticks And threads by many a score, They said Owd Ned turned every wheel And every wheel a strap. "Bugger", says I to t' master man "Owd Ned's a rare strong chap!" Next I come into a church, I'd never seen one in me days, By crimes I were ashamed of meself, I didn't know their ways. There were young fowk an' owd fowk In tubs and boxes sat And a silly owd bugger sat next to me Said "Lad, tek off thy hat!" Well in come a big Lord Mayor On his shoulder he'd a club, He first jumped into a long white shirt And then into t' topmost tub, He said rich folk would go to heaven And poor folk would go to hell. I said "Sit down tha silly owd bugger Tha don't know t'road thysel". Then a feller come round wi' a plate o' brass By crimes he hands it round, And me not bein' a silly owd bugger I nobbut took half a crown. A silly owd bugger sat next to me I thowt he were gooin' to dee I said "Sit down tha silly owd bugger Aw've left some in for thee!" When t'preachin' an' prayin' were over, And we all were gooin' away, I went to t'feller in t'long white shirt To see if there's owt to pay. He said "No lad, there's nowt to pay" By crimes I were right fain, So I picked up me hat and picked up me cane And toddled of whom again. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Rambling Robin From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 06:12 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Rambling Robin %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:30 T:Rambling Robin R:Folk Song M:2/4 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:A E|E2 AA|G2 G A|F2 B,B,|E4|-E2 z E| E A2 A|A B2 c|d c2 A|B4|-B2 cd| ec A2|B G2 E|E C2 E|D4|-D4-D4-D2 EF| =G F2 E|D2 E2|AB AG|E4|-E4|-E4|z2 EF| =G F2 E|D2 D2|E A3|-A4|-A4| Rambling Robin When first from my childhood I came to a man The nation to ramble through I soon began. For a rambling thought it came into my mind. So they christened me Rambling Robin oh. So they christened me Rambling Robin. O'er hills and o'er mountains I used for to go And I've slept in the woods where there's frost and there's snow, No anxiety ever came into my mind, So contented was Rambling Robin oh, So contented was Rambling Robin. The wind and the rain they beat me quite cold And my parents behind they were both very old. My father did weep and my mother did cry, For the loss of their Rambling Robin oh, For the loss of their Rambling Robin. When sixteen long years they were over and past My poor mother's sorrows were over and past, And my father the nation did range to and fro, In search of his Rambling Robin oh In search of his Rambling Robin. Now when my past folly it came to an end, To my own native village I then did attend, My neighbours all told me my parents were dead With the thoughts of their Rambling Robin oh, The thoughts of their Rambling Robin. Where shall I wander or where shall I go? I am so oppressed both with sorrow and woe, So I'll ramble this land 'till the day that I die And an end put to Rambling Robin oh An end put to Rambling Robin. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Rawtenstall Annual Fair From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 06:14 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Rawtenstall Annual Fair %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:31 T:Rawtenstall Annual Fair R:Folk Song M:4/4 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:F F3/2 G/2 A3/2 F/2 G2 D2| F3/2 G/2 A3/2 F/2 G4| F3/2 G/2 A3/2 F/2 G3/2 E/2 D3/2 C/2|\ F8| G2 G4/6 G4/6 G4/6 G4|\ G2 G3/2 G/2 G4| G2 G2 G3/2 A/2 G3/2 F/2| E2 D2 C2 G3/2 A/2| F2 F2 F2 F2|\ F3/2 G/2 A3/2 F/2 G2 C2| F/2 F3/2 F3/2 D/2 E2 F2| G8| G3/2 G/2 G3/2 G/2 G3/2 A/2 G3/2 F/2|\ E3/2 F/2 E3/2 D/2 C2 A2| F2 F2 F2 F2| F3/2 G/2 A3/2 F/2 G2 C2| F3/2 F/2 F3/2 F/2 F3/2 F/2 F3/2 F/2|\ F3/2 D/2 E3/2 F/2 G4| G3/2 G/2 G3/2 G/2G/2 G3/2- G3/2 G/2| G3/2 G/2 G3/2 G/2 G3 G|\ G3/2 G/2 G4/6 G4/6 G4/6 G3/2 A/2 G3/2 F/2|\ E3/2 F/2 E3/2 D/2 C3/2 A/2 G3/2 A/2| F2 F2 D C2 F| F/2 F3/2 F3/2 F/2D/2 C3/2- CC|\ F2 F3/2 F/2 F3/2 D/2 E3/2 F/2| G6 F2| A3/2 A/2 A3/2 A/2 G3/2 G/2 G3/2 G/2|\ F3/2 G/2 F3/2 D/2 C3- C| A3/2 A/2 A3/2 A/2 G2 G3/2 G/2| F3/2 G/2 F3/2 D/2 C4|\ A3/2 A/2 A3/2 A/2 G2 G3/2 G/2| F3/2 G/2 F3/2 D/2 C2 F3/2 G/2| A3/2 A/2 A2 G3/2 G/2 G2|\ F8| The Rawtenstall Annual Fair Down behind the gasworks, down in Rawtenstall That's a little town in Lancashire Last Saturday night, me and the lads Ee by gum we had some right good fun. There was ice cream, switchbacks, coconuts and waxworks, Figure eights and roundabouts. We all payed our tanners and then we all went in. And wasn't we all delighted when we heard the showman's din? He shouted : "Roll up, roll up, come and see the fat girl Forty stone of loveliness and ev'ry bit's her own" In went the lads and ee but she were big And all the lads wi' walkin' sticks were givin' her a dig She was a right big lassie, we didn't know her chassis Was blown up with air I do declare. Everythin' were champion until some silly clown Stabbed her with a pin, shots the showman with a frown "All hands to the pump lads, the vessel's goin' down" At the Rawtenstall Annual Fair. Roll up! Roll up! See the House of Mysteries! Ladies pay a tanner to be' tickled in the dark! In went the lads just to 'ave a peep But the showman pulled his lever an' we landed in a heap. Down he shot 'em straight to the bottom Frills and bows for everyone to see There was screamin', shoutin', everything were strife, I saw some funny things I never saw in all my life I even saw some things I've never seen upon the wife At the Rawtenstall Annual Fair. Roll up! Roll up! Come and see the mermaid! See the lovely mermaid half a woman half a fish! In went the lads and just for a prank Little Willie 'Iggins poured some whisky in the tank. Well she got frisky, swimmin' in the whisky And when she come up for air She bowed to the audience and gave her tail a swish. Her tail it came off and she really looked delish. She said "Now what's your fancy lads a bit of meat or fish?" At the Rawtenstall Annual Fair. Roll up! Roll up! See the tattooed lady! See the lovely lady all the pictures on her skin! In went the lads and they all gave a cheer Cos tattooed on her back was all the towns of Lancashire. There was Oswaldtwistle, Manchester City The town hall standin' in the square There was Bolton, Burnley, Ashton-under-Lyne, Coal pit up at Wigan was lookin' mighty fine. But someone shouted "Daddy, don't go down the mine" At the Rawtenstall Annual Fair. |
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Subject: RE: Songbook - Folk Songs Of Lancashire From: RTim Date: 09 Oct 08 - 07:21 PM I wonder how Mike Harding feels about having his work published on Mudcat - Who on Earth is now going to buy any book? I am assuming that Sky Sailor is NOT Mr. Harding? Tim Radford
-Joe Offer- |
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Subject: RE: Songbook - Folk Songs Of Lancashire From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 07:25 PM The book has been out of print for a long time. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Rawtenstall Annual Fair From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 07:30 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Ribbins O'Robbins %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:32 T:Ribbins O'Robbins R:Folk Song M:6/8 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:G D/2D/2|GGG B2 G|E<EE E<EE/2E/2| AAA c2 A|F<FF F<FD|DEF G3|-G3-G2| Ribbins O'Robbins There's a hen down yon lane," Says Ribbins o' Robbins, There's a hen down yon lane," "So Johnny come - home." "Let's catch it, let's catch it" says Ribbins O'Robbins etc. "It's copt, it's copt" etc. "Let's pluck it, let's pluck it" etc. "It's plucked, it's plucked" etc. "Let's cook it, let's cook it" etc. "It s cooked, it s cooked" etc. "Let's eight it, let's eight it" etc. "It's etten, it's etten" etc. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: The Rochdale Mashers From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 07:33 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Rochdale Mashers, The %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:33 T:Rochdale Mashers, The R:Folk Song M:3/4 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:Bm F2|F2 C2 D2|E2 D2 C2|B, A,2 z z2|z4 F F|F2 C2 D2|E2 D2 C2 B,4 z2| z4 G2|G2 C2 C2|C2 B,2 A,2|G3 C C2|C2 z2 B, _B,|A,2 ^A,2 B,2! C2 F2 E2|D4 z2| z4 F2|F2 C2 D2|E2 D C3|B, A,2 z z2|z4 F2| F2 C2 D2|E2 D2 C2 B,4 z2| z4 G2|G2 C2 C2|C2 B,2 A,2|G G z4|z4|A,2|A,2 ^A,2 B,2|C2 G2 E2|D6|A,4 A,2| F2 F F F2|F2 E2 F2|G2 G2 G2|G2 z2 A,2|C2 C2 C2|C2 D2 D2|F2 D2 B,2|A,2 z2 B, B,| B,2 G2 G2|G2 B,2 B,2|A, F F2 z F|-F2 z2 z A|A2 A2 A2|A2 G2 F2| G2 F2 E2|D2 A,2 A,2| F6|z2E2 D2|A,6|z4 D D|D2 D2 D2|D2 C2 B,2|C C2 C3|C2 B,2 A,2|C4 z2| z2 B,2 A,2 C4 z2|z2 z A, B,2|A, A,2 G3|F4 E2| D6|-D2 Z2| The Rochdale Mashers Oh we are the two Roch dale Mashers, And we oft en go out on the mash We wear no tall hats and no shirts to our backs And it's seldom we have any cash. We always keep up the new fashions While others keep up with the old. And though we are just twenty seyen We're handsome, stout hearted and bold. For we sing tra la la As we walk down the street For style and perfection there's none can compete. Oh the ladies declare there's that elegant pair. The two Rochdale Mashers from Waterloo Street. And we sing and we dance and we don't give a jot We're a jolly fine lot, We're all right when we're tight And we're jolly good company. Last Saturday we were invited To the Palais by two ladies fair Their cheeks were in bloom like the roses in June And we danced with that elegant pair. There was dancing and singing till midnight There was whisky tobacco and rum And after the dancing was over With the ladies we had lots of fun. And we sing tra la la la As we walk down the street For style and perfection we ne'er can be beat All the ladies declare that we are a pair The two Rochdale mashers from Waterloo street. And we sing and we dance and we don't give a jot We're a jolly fine lot, We're all right when we're tight And we're jolly good company. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Sammy Shuttleworth's Party From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 07:35 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Sammy Shuttleworth's Party %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:34 T:Sammy Shuttleworth's Party R:Folk Song M:C| O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 Q:160 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:Bb F2 FF GA BG|F2 D2 D4|B2 FF G2 F2|z2 A2 B2 z2| F2 F2 GA BG|F2 D2 D4|B2 FF G2 F2|z2 A2 B3 B| A2 A2 G2 GG|F2 F2 =E3 E |A2 A2 G2 GG|F2 F2 =E4| A2 AA GG GG|FFFF =E3 E|F2 CC FF CC|F2 G2 HA4| B4 z2FF|GABG A2 F2|B4 z2 FF|GABG A4|B4 z2 FF|GABG A2 F2| FGFD FGFD|FGFD C2 z2|B4 z2 FF|GABG A2 FC|FGFD FGFD|C3-C2 F| B,2 C2 D D2 F|G2 F2 G G2 F|G2 F2 G2 F2|G2 A2 HB3 A| d2 c2 BB GG|F2 A2 B2 z2|F2 F2 GA BG|c4 F4| Sammy Shuttleworth's Party Old Sammy Shuttleworth of Lancashire. He gave a party last neet. All the lads and lasses were there Bunged in the door hole stuck reet! The guest were fat and the house was small And they got stuck in the entrance hall. Owd Johnny Bugger got a tin of Vaseline, He greased all the lobby and they all slid in! Eeee! there were'undreds on the doormat. Eeee! there were 'undreds on the rug, Eeee! There were dozens on the slop stone. Little Polly Higgins went and tumbled down the plug. Eeee! And we heard a woman screamin', We saw some lace and naughty ribbons blue. And Aunt Maria sat on the fire And went and burnt her Isle Of Wight. And eeee by gum we 'ad a right good do. At the supper there were cow-heel stew, Real devilled tripe and pigs' feet, While they were gollopin' the slutch, it's true, You could 'ave 'eard 'em, next street, Eee what fun when old Aunt Ruth Speared a pickled onion on her front tooth, Eee by gum and the fun were rich When we all started fightin' for the parson's snitch! Eeee! There were kippers a la francais, Eeee! and saucy little Sal Eeee! she guzzled all the fishbones, They stuck up her Manchester and Liverpool canal, Eeee! she were coughin' and a splutterin' We 'ad to send around for Doctor Drew And all the lads they stood around And watched the Doctor fillet her, And ee by gum, we 'ad a right good do. After supper there was dustman's knock, Kissin' all the wenches was fine, Owd Albert 'Iggins, the lazy lad He started workin' overtime, Owd Aunt May, tha knows what she did She did an exhibition dance on the copper boiler lid, The lid it bust and we heard a scream, You couldn't see me poor owd Aunty May for steam, Eeee! with her brand new evening dress on, Eeee! there were little Polly Dwyer Eeee! and some bugger threw a woodbine Down her camisole and set her shuttlecocks on fire. Eeee! and they put 'er out wi' water, Just when we'd all got a lovely view So Albert 'Iggins got a match and set the And ee by gum we 'ad a right good do. At the party there was lots of ale, But we ran out of pots at 'alf time Owd Uncle Albert used the chamber po And he said it tasted right fine, Ee what fun when me Uncle 'Orace Went and guzzled all the metal polish, 'E went black and started to cough And the polish nearly polished Uncle 'Orace off. Eeee! when we woke up in the mornin' Eeee! we'd 'ad the time of all our lives, Eeee! we were so enthusiastic Other fellers toddled 'ome with other fellers' wives Eeee! and we thowt it all were champion, But what that party was we never knew, 'Cos if it was a wedding a christnin' or a funeral, Eee by gum we 'ad a right good do... |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: In the Shade of the Old 'Arris M From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 07:38 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% In The Shade Of The Old 'arris Mill %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:14 T:In The Shade Of The Old 'Arris Mill R:Folk Song M:3/4 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:F cc|c2 =B2 c2|d2 c2 F2|A6|-A4 AA| A2 ^G2 A2|B2 A2 C2|F6|-F4 F2| E2 F2 ^F2|G G3 G2|A2B2 =B2|c c3 c2| =B2 A2 G2|d A3 =B2|c4 c2|c2 =B2 c2| d2 c2 F2|A6|-A4 AA|A2 ^G2 A2| B A3 C2|F6|-F2 FF|E2 F2 ^F2| G4 z G|A2 B2 c2|d6|-d4 cB| A2 c2 A2|G2 F2 G2|F6|-F4| In the Shade of the Old 'Arris Mill In the shade of the old 'Arris mill It's enough to make any one ill, The reelin' is rotten and so is the cotton, We'll 'ave to give gaffer a pill. And then when th' ower looker comes round An' he sees all us doffers sat down He says, "Eh ger up and tie yer ends up!" In the shade of the old 'Arr is mill. Our stockin's are all full of holes An' our clogs they are losin' their soles Our shawls are all torn And our petticoats are worn We'd be better off diggin' coal. You can't see yer hand for the lint And by Wednesday we're all bloody skint But we don't give a jot, we're a bloody fine lot We're the girls from the old 'Arris mill. Eh Aw wish pay day Friday would come By but we'll have some rare fun Cos each Friday night we go out and get tight And troubles and cares are all done. And then when we spent all us brass, And Monday morn comes round at last Then for mean' our Jack, it's time to get back In the shade of the old 'Arris mill. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Sledburn Fair From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 07:39 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Sledburn Fair %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:35 T:Sledburn Fair R:Folk Song M:6/8 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:F C|C2 F FEF|A2 F F2 F|G2 G E2 D|C F2-F2 C| C2 F F2 F|A2 F F2 F|G2 G E D2|C F2-F2 F| G2 G G2 A|B2 B B2 G|A2 F F2 A|c3 z2 B| A2 F F2 F|A2 F F2 F|G2 G E G2|F6|-F3-F2| Sledburn Fair I'd oft heard tell o' this Sledbum Fair And fain would I gan thither, 'Twere in the prime of summertime In fine and pleasant weather; Me mam and dad did both agree That Nell and I should goo, See for to view this Sledburn Fair And ride on Dobbin oh. So Nell gat on and I gat on And off we rode together, And of everybody we did meet, Enquired how far 'twas thither. Until we came to t'other field end, It was about steeple high, "See yonder, Nell, see yonder Nell There's Sledburn town," cried I. And when we reached this famous town We enquired for an alehouse, Then we looked up and saw a sign As high as any gallows, We called for Harry the ostler To give our horse some hay, For we had come to Sledburn Fair And meant to stop all day. And then t'owd landlord he come out And led us to an entry He took us to the finest room As if we'd been quite gentry, And puddings and sauce did smell so neat Pies and roast beef so rare, "By gum", said Nell, "we acted well In comin' to Sledburn Fair." |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Ten Per Cent From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 07:41 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Ten Per Cent %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:36 T:Ten Per Cent R:Folk Song M:4/4 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:A E2|C E3 E3 E|C2 E2 E3 C|B, B, z4 A, G,|A,4 z2 z E| C C3 C2 A,2|D2 D D3 z B,|C A,2 B, G,2 A,2|-A,3 z2 z A,/2 A,/2| D D3 F2 D E|-E2 E C2 z C/2 E/2|E2 E C3 A,2|B,4 z z/2 C/2 E E| C C3 C2 A,2|D2 D D3 D2|C A,3 B,2 G, A,|-A,4 z2 E2| C C3 C2 A,2|D2 D D2 z2 D|C2 E2 E2 C2|B,4 z2 E2| C C2 C2 A,2|D2 D D2 D2|C2 A, B,3 G,2|A,6| Ten Per Cent Come Mary put me pit clogs by From t'jacket shake the dust We've gone on strike for ten per cent We'll get it lass I trust. For there's nothin' cheers a home so much As a gradely fire of coal, But it's as much as collier lads can do T'keep body with the soul. CHORUS We've gone on strike for ten per cent. We're not downhearted yet We've gone on strike for ten per cent. And ten per cent we'll get. Don't bother much o'er food for me Just see Our Joe's enough If thee and him get decent meals Then I'll put up wi' t' rough And cheer up me bonny lass And little Joe don't fret That 'obby 'orse Aw promised thee, When t' strike is ower tha'll get. Pit ponies now they have browt up That never yet saw day The ropes are slack the wheels are still And pit tubs rust away The pit heads are all silent now And childer clem for bread The things I've seen about our streets They fill my heart wi' dread. I've hard work now to 'old up me 'ead Since we've been browt so low. And gaffers want t'lads back down t'pit But back we winno' go. We've bin on strike for many a week This time we're stoppin' out An' little Joe mun understand It's not his fayther's fault. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Three Crows From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 07:43 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Three Crows %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:37 T:Three Crows R:Folk Song M:4/4 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:G B2|B4 G2 A2|B4 B4|c4 B4|HA6 D2| G2 BG G2 F2|E2 E2 E2 E2|A2 cB A2 G2|F2 A2 Hd2 d2| B4 G2 F2|E4 c2 A2|d4 d4|G8| Three Crows There were three crows sat on a tree And they were black as black could be. And they were black as black could be. And they were black as black could be. One old crow said to his mate "What have we this 'ere day to eat?" They flew across the burning plain To where an owd 'orse 'ad been slain. "Thee sit on his big breast bone And I'll pike out his bonny blue 'een." One old crow said to the other "By gum this is a tough old bugger!" Up come the farmer with his gun And shot these crows exceptin' one. Last owd crow flew to a tree Said "Yer a silly owd bugger, you can't shoot me!" Farmer raised up his big gun And shot that crow right up the bum. That's the end of me terrible tale If tha wants any more, buy us some ale! |
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Subject: Tune/Lyr ics ADD: Three Jolly Huntsmen From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 07:45 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Three Jolly Huntsmen %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:38 T:Three Jolly Huntsmen R:Folk Song M:6/8 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:F C|F2 F F2 G|A2 A A2 B|cAF G2 C|F3 z2 C| F2 F F2 G|A A2 A2 B|cAF G2 C|F3 z2 B| c2 c c2 F|G2 G G2 C|DEF GAB|A3 G2 C| F2 F F2 G|A3 A2 B|cAF G2 C|F3 C2 E F6|-F3-F2| Three Jolly Huntsmen It's of three jolly huntsmen and a hunting they did go And they hunted and they hollered and they blew their horns also And one said "Mind your eyes and keep your noses to the wind And then by scent or sight we'll find sum mat to our mind Look you there!" They hunted and they hollered and the next thing they did find Was a turnip in a turnip field and that they left behind One said it was a boggart and the other he said "Nay! It's just a rusty cannon ball owd Hitler threw away Look you there!" They hunted and they hollered and the next thing they did find A tattered boggart in a field and that they left behind One said it was a boggart and the other he said "Nay! It's just a drunken tinker who's gone and lost his way Look you there!" They hunted and they hollered and the next thing they did find Two lovers in a lane and those they left behind One said as it were boggarts and the other he said "Nay! It's just two raving lunatics who tried to run away Look you there!" They hunted and they hollered and the next thing they did find An old pig lying in a poke and that they left behind One said it was a boggart and the other he said "Nay! It's just a Manchester alderman who hasn't much to say Look you there!" They hunted and they hollered and the next thing they did find An old crow lying dead and still and that they left behind One said it was a boggart and the other he said "Nay! It's just a dirty blackin' brush somebody's thrown away Look you there!" They hunted and they hollered till the settin' of the sun And they'd nowt to bring away at last when t' huntin' day were done Said one unto the other "This huntin' doesn't pay But we've powlered up and down a bit and had a rattlin' day." |
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Subject: Tune/Lyr ics ADD: Tommy The Pedlar From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 09:42 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Tommy The Pedlar %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:39 T:Tommy The Pedlar R:Folk Song M:3/4 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:C C2|E G3 c2|A2 G2 C2|D G3 G2|C4 z C| E2 D2 C2|G2 F2 E2|c d3 B2| G4 G2| A2 d3 B|c2 G2 E2|F2 A3 F|G4 z C| E G3 c2|A2 G2 C2|D2 G2 G2|C4| Tommy the Pedlar I'm Tommy the pedlar so jolly and gay An' aw t' farmers know me around Pendle way Aw jogs on the road and Aw sings like a lark Though mon ey be scarce and there's not so much wark. Wi' me pack on me back be it sunshine or rain Aw calls at each cottage by meadow and lane There's owd fowk and young fowk some bowd and some shy And mebbe they'll want nowt, an' mebbe they'll buy. You'll oft hear me cry when Aw've summat to sell In Whalley and Clithera, Downham as well, Fine laces an' trinkets an' ribbons Aw bring To set country lasses a dancin' in spring. Aw jogs up to Newkirk an' dahn to Roughlee An' there Aw've a sweetheart who's waitin' for me. She's bonnier than t' flowers a bloomin' in May Aw bides on her kisses at th' end o' the day. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyr ics ADD: Turpin Hero From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 09:43 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Turpin Hero %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:40 T:Turpin Hero R:Folk Song M:2/4 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:G D|GG GB/2A/2|GG G>D|G B/2B/2 GB|dd/2d/2 dB/2c/2| dd/2d/2 de/2d/2|cc cA/2B/2|cc cd/2c/2|BB B2| G2 B>A|GE EHD|dB c/2c/2c|BA G| Turpin Hero As Dick was ridin' a — cross the moor He saw a lawyer a long way before. He rode up to him and he this did say "Have you seen Dick Turpin a long this way?" CHORUS Hi, ho, me Turpin he ro, Here's our Jolly Dick Turpin oh! "Oh, no" said the lawyer "I this can say I've not seen Turpin for many a day, For if that I did there'd be no doubt He'd turn me pockets inside out". "Well", said Dick "I've proved I'm shrewd For I've hid me brass down in me boots". "Oh", said the lawyer, "he shan't have mine, For I've hid it in the pocket of me cape behind." Well they rode till they came to Foster's Mill Where Turpin tells him to stand still "Your top coat cape it must come off For Bonny Black Bess wants a new saddle cloth! "But don't you fret though I've got your store For as you're a lawyer you can lie for more. And when they ask you where's your tin You can say you was robbed by Dick Turpin." As Dick rode over Saddleworth Moor He saw Lord Judge in his coach and four And hero like he did approach And he robbed the judge as he sat in his coach. Now Turpin's fate I will relate For he is bound down to Newgate And jolly Dick Turpin will rob no more For he robbed the rich and not the poor. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyr ics ADD: Turton Fair From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 09:45 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Turton Fair %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:41 T:Turton Fair R:Folk Song M:C| O:England A:Lancashire L:1/4 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:C G|c c c c|c c c3/2 G/2|d d G B|c3 z/2 c/2| d d d d|d d d3/2 c/2|B D A B|G3 e| c c c c|c c2 d|e/2 e3/2 d c|A3 d| e e d e|c A G G/2G/2|A/2 c3/2 d B|c4| c2 c2|c c c2|d d G B|c2 z2| d d d d d d d c|B d A B|G3 e| c c c c|c c2 d|e e d c|A3 d| e/2 e3/2 d e|c A G G A c d B|c4| Turton Fair It's just twelve months this last back end Sin' Aw went Turton Fair, An' if Aw ne'er go there again, Ah think I've Had mi share. In some pubs there was feetin' While others rung wi' glee; An' Turton fowk they looked as if They were ready for a spree. CHORUS Now lads, 'an yo fowt? Nay we'n not fowt yet Come and gather round us And we'll muster up a set. We'll lay our clugs abaht 'em We'll make 'em gawp an' stare. We'll show 'em streight they'll 'ave ter feight If they come to Turton Fair There were one owd chap who'd getten drunk While drivin' beasts dahn street, An owd bull come and poked his horn Right in his breeches seat. It tossed him up in to the air He come down with a roar And sat him down in t'horses' trough To soothe away his sore. Then he saw a suckin' cauve It were tied to t' rail He went an' clogged this suckin' cauve Three punces under t' tail He punced that poor thing rahnd about Till it could barely see He said "Ah'll 'ave revenge for what Thy fayther did to me!" |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: Waiting For Me Pay Day From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 09:47 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Waiting For Me Pay Day %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:42 T:Waiting For Me Pay Day R:Folk Song M:6/8 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:D F|AAA F2 D|G2 B A2 A|A2 A F2 D|GAB A3| d2 d c2 c|B2 B A3|GGG F2 D|E2 E D3|A2 A F2 D|E3 D2| Waiting For Me Pay Day When I were at school at Bobb in Hill Pushin' skips from morn to neet, Runnin' about on nimble feet, Waiting for me pay day. Now I work in t' weavin' rooms, Rushin' about between the looms, Shuttles flyin' to and fro, Tackler fairly makes me go, Waitin' for me pay day. Buzzers blowing through the street You hear the rattle of clog shod feet Knocker-up shouts "It's Monday morn And Dad's best suit is bound for t' pawn" Waitin' for next pay day. Tally man is on the knock Workin' his way along the block, Off wi' t'gas and shut the door We can't pay him any more, Call again on pay day. Work is rough and pay is bad, Tackler nearly drives you mad, When I hear the buzzer blowin' It's only pay day keeps me goin' Waitin' for me pay day. Wakes is comin' very soon No more workin' at the loom No more clockin' on for me We're off to Blackpool and the sea Hurry up next pay day. We're cotton folk, a cotton town And cotton pays for Sarah's gown Work is hard and pay is poor There must be more to life I'm sure Than waitin' for next pay day. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: The Wassail Song From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 09:49 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Wassail Song, The %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:43 T:Wassail Song, The R:Folk Song M:2/4 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:A A, B, C D|E E E E|F F F F|E4| A, B, C D|E E E E|F D D2|E2 C D| E E A F|E2 D D|C C B,2|A,2 G, A,| B,4|z2 A,B,|C4|z2 C D|E E A F|E2 D D| C C B,2|A,4| The Wassail Song Here we come a wassailin' amongst the leaves so green. Here we come a wanderin' far to be seen. For it is a Christmas time and we wander far and near. And we wish you merry Christmas and Happy New Year And a year aned a year For we wish you Merry Christmas and Happy New Year God bless the master of this house the mistress also And all the little children that round the table go For it is a Christmas time etc Good master and good mistress as you sit in by your fire Think on us poor children who wander through the mire For it is etc We have a little purse of the stretching leather skin But we haven't any pennies that we could put in For it is etc Christmas it is coming the goose is getting fat Please put a penny in the old man's hat For it is etc If you haven't got a penny a halfpenny will do If you haven't got a halfpenny God bless you For it is etc Your cheese it is all white and your cake it is all brown Pray give us all a little to help us through the town For it is etc |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: The Watter Rattle From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 09:51 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Watter Rattle, The %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:44 T:Watter Rattle, The R:Folk Song M:3/4 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:A E2|A2 A2 B2|c2 c2 c2|B2 A2 G2|A4 z F| B2 B2 c2|d c3 B2|A2 A2 G2|G6| B2 B2 c2|d2 c2 ec|A2 c2 A2|B4 cB| A3 B AG|F2 D2 FF|E2 A2 G2|A6| c2 B2 c2|d d3 ec|A2 c2 A2|B4 cB| A3 B AG|F2 D2 FF|E2 A2 G2|A6| The Watter Rattle As I was a walkin' one mornin' in May I spied a young couple so fondly did stray One was a female and a beauty was she And the other was a soldier in the artillery. One was a female and a beauty was she And the other was a soldier in the artillery. Now the soldier and his true love they walked on together, They walked on together till they came to a river They sat themselves down by the side of the stream For she loved to hear the watter rattle and the nightingales sing. They sat themselves down by the side of the stream For she loved to hear the watter rattle and the nightingales sing. Now the soldier to the female put his arm round her middle And out of his tunic he pulled a fine fiddle He played her a tune to the length of his string, For she loved to hear the watter rattle and the nightingales sing. He played her a tune to the length of his string, For she loved to hear the watter rattle and the nightingales sing. "Oh now," said the soldier "it's time to give o'er" "Oh no!" said the female, "let's have one tune more Just play me one more to the length of your string For I love to hear the watter rattle and the nightingales sing" Just play me one more to the length of your string For I love to hear the watter rattle and the nightingales sing" "Oh no," said the soldier "for I'm bound away Fighting in Africa for many a day And when I return, it'll be in the spring, And we'll come and hear the watter rattle and the nightingales sing". And when I return, it'll be in the spring, And we'll come and hear the watter rattle and the nightingales sing". |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: The Wayver Of Wellbrook From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 09:53 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% Wayver Of Wellbrook, The %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:45 T:Wayver Of Wellbrook, The R:Folk Song M:6/8 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:A E|C A, A, A, C C|D B, B, B, z E/2 E/2|A F F E F D| (C A,) z2 z E/2 E/2|C A, A, A, B, C|D B, B, B,2 E|A A F E F D| (C A,) z2 z E/2 E/2||A c A A c A|G B A B2 G|F F G A G F| E C2 z2 E|F D F Hd2 G|E C E HA2 C/2 C/2| D C D B, E D|C A, z2| The Wayver of Wellbrook You gentlemen all with your hounds and your parks You may gamble or sport till you dee. But a quiet house nook, a good wife and a book Is more to the likin' o' me. CHORUS Wi' me pickers and pins me wellers to t' shins Me linderins shuttles and yeald hooks Me treadles and sticks, me weights ropes and bricks What a life, says the wayver of Wellbrook. Aw care not for houses or titles or lands Owd John's a name fitten for me. And gimme a thatch wi' a wooden door latch And six feet o' ground when Aw dee. Some folk like to stuff their owd wallets wi' meat 'Till they're round and as brawsen as frogs. But me Aw'm content when Aw've paid up me rent Wi' enough to keep up wi' me clogs. An' some are too idle to use their own feet An' mun cower an' stroddle i' th' lone. But when Aw'm wheelt or carried 'twill be to get buried And then "Dicky Up" wi' owd John. You may turn up your noses at me an' th' owd dame An' thrutch us like dogs again wall. But so long as Aw con nayger Aw'll ne'er be a beggar So Aw don't give a cuss for you all. Then Margit turn round that hum a drum wheel An' your shuttle fly round like a brid And when Aw no longer con use hand or finger Then Aw'll say while Aw could, then Aw did. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: When Th'Owd Folks Weren't In From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 09:55 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% When Th'Owd Folks Weren't In %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:46 T:When Th'Owd Folks Weren't In R:Folk Song M:3/4 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:C C2|C2 E2 G2|G2 F2 E2|D E3 D2|C4 z2| C2 E2 G2|c4 c2|B2 G2 G2|G4 B2| c2 c2 c2|c4 E2|F2 G2 A2|G4 C2| E G3 G2|G2 F2 E2|D2 E D3|C4 CD| E2 E2 E2|G2 F E3|D2 E2 D2|C6| When th'owd fowks weren't in When Aw were a lad like a gobbin Aw went Courtin' a lass 'at come fra Chowbent, Her name it were Ann an' Aw did begin By gooin' to th' ouse when th'owd folks weren't in. CHORUS To me toorali torrali toorali aye. "Eh tell me what's t'do as tha's come here toneet In aw this rain and thy cloathes so weet, Come and get thysel' dry and let's hear where tha's bin" And that were what happened when th'owd fowks weren't in. Aw geet mesen dry and Aw towd her mi mind As 'ow Aw'd come courtin' if she felt inclined. She said she did too so we thowt we'd begin On that very same neet as th'owd fowks weren't in. So we geet settled dahn in her fayther's high cheer. Aw called her mi darlin', she called me her dear, While kissin' and cuddlin' we heard a great din. She said "Now we've copped it's th'owd fowks comin' in!" She pointed to t' kitchen bur Aw were stuck to me seat. By gum Aw were freetont o' th'owd uns that neet, Bur Aw towd 'em mi tale o' me fancy for Ann And that's how me courtship at Chowbent began. It's thirty-seven year we bin married sin then. Wi'n a house of our own, Aw'm envied o' men Bur Aw'd give aw'll Aw've getten once more to begin Gooin' to Chowbent when th'owd fowks weren't in. |
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Subject: Tune/Lyrics ADD: With His Owd Grey Beard From: Sky Sailor Date: 09 Oct 08 - 09:58 PM %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% %% With His Owd Grey Beard New Shaven %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% X:47 T:With His Owd Grey Beard New Shaven R:Folk Song M:6/8 O:England A:Lancashire L:1/8 B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire N:Mike Harding K:F A/2B/2|cAF cAF|DDD d3|c2 c c2 A| B G2-GAB|cAFcAF|DDD d2 d/2d/2| cBA GAF|E3 F2 c|cBA GAF|E3 F2| With His Owd Grey Beard New Shaven There were an owd feller come ower the lea, Eh but Aw shan't 'ave 'im, He cum ower the lea a coortin' of me, With his owd grey beard new shaven. Me mother she towd me to open the door Eh but Aw shan't 'ave 'im Aw opened the door and he fell on th' floor With his owd grey beard new shaven. Me mother she towd me to set him a stool ... Aw set him a stool and he grinned like a fool... Me mother she towd me to fetch him some sugar ... Aw fetched him some sugar and he ate like a bugger... Me mother she towd me to fetch him some ale ... Aw fetched him some ale an' he chucked it in t' pail ... Me mother she towd me to fetch him some sprouts ... Aw fetched him some sprouts an' he chucked buggers out. .. Me mother she towd me to fetch him some bread ... Aw cut him some bread an' Aw chucked it at 'is 'ead... Me mother she towd me to take him to bed ... Aw took him to bed he lay like he was dead... Me mother she towd me to take him to church ... Aw took him to church and left him in the lurch... |
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Subject: RE: Songbook - Folk Songs Of Lancashire From: GUEST Date: 05 Feb 09 - 09:40 AM To what tune did men sing "The Rochdale Mashers"? |
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Subject: RE: Songbook - Folk Songs Of Lancashire From: Malcolm Douglas Date: 05 Feb 09 - 05:03 PM The tune is given with the words in this thread; it is written in ABC format. Google will tell you what that is if you don't know. |
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Subject: RE: Songbook - Folk Songs Of Lancashire From: GUEST Date: 05 Feb 09 - 05:13 PM Massive thanks for doing this. Genuinely appreciated. |
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