Lyr Add: The Painful Plough

Subject: The Painful Plough
From: Margo
Date: 25 Aug 99 - 01:54 PM

The Painful Plough
Traditional

Come all of you bold ploughin' men of courage stout and bold
Who labor through the winter and the stormy winds and cold,
To fill your fields with plenty and your barnyards to renew,
That bread may not be wanted, behold the painful plough.

Now said the ploughman to the gardener, "Like not your trade to ours!
But walk your curious borders and gaze upon your flowers
If it hadn't been for the ploughin' man both rich and poor would rue,
For we are all dependant upon the painful plough!"

And Adam was a ploughin' man when ploughin' first begun
The very next to succeed him was Caine his eldest son.
Some of this generation the calling must pursue,
That we may not be wanting, behold the painful plough.

And Samson was a mighty man, and Solomon he was wise,
Alexander fought to conquer and was all that we do prize,
David was a valiant man and many a thousand slew,
But none of these great heroes could live without the plough

And I hope that all who hear this song will hold to what is true,
We cannot cross the raging seas without the painful plough;
For they must have their bread and cakes , their butter and jam and pease,
To feed the jolly sailor lad who ploughs the ragin' seas.

So come all of you bold ploughin' men of courage stout and bold.
Who labor through the winter and the stormy winds and cold,
To fill your fields with plenty and your barnyards to renew,
That bread may not be wanted, behold the painful plough.
^^
As soon as I figure out how to convey the melody, I'll do it.

---

Lyrics from this post were added to the Digital Tradition in October, 1999.
-Joe Offer-

Margarita

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Painful Plough
From: Margo
Date: 25 Aug 99 - 01:58 PM

Sorry, I forgot to mention my source: Louis Killen CD "A Bonny Bunch"

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Painful Plough
From: The_one_and_only_Dai
Date: 26 Aug 99 - 05:15 AM

A couple of prior verses from the original:

Adam in his garden was sent to keep it right
But the length of time he stayed there, I believe it was one night
For all his own labour, I call it not his due,
Adam lost his garden and went to haul the plough

For Adam was a ploughman, when ploughing first began
The next that did succedd him was Cain the eldest son
Some of that generation the calling yet pursue,
That bread may not be wanting, behold the painful plough.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Painful Plough
From: IanC
Date: 01 Nov 02 - 08:14 AM

Under the title "Speed The Plough", here is a late 15th / Early 16th Century lyric which is recognisable as having the same burden as "The Painful Plough"

here 'tis

GOD SPEDE THE PLOUGH
(British Library MS Lansdowne 762, fols. 5r-6v)

A processe or an exortation to tendre the chargis of the true husbondys

As I me walked over feldis wide
When men began to ere and to sowe,
I behelde husbondys howe faste they hide,
With their bestis and plowes all on a rowe.
I stode and behelde the bestis well drawe
To ere the londe that was so tough;
Than to an husbond I sed this sawe,
"I pray to God, spede wele the plough."

The husbondys helde up harte and hande,
And said, "That is nedefull for to praye,
For all the yere we labour with the lande,
With many a comberous clot of claye,
To mayntayn this worlde yf that we maye,
By downe and by dale and many a slough.
Therfore it is nedefull for to saye,
'I praye to God, spede wele the plough.'

"And so shulde of right the parson praye,
That hath the tithe shefe of the londe;
For our sarvauntys we moste nedis paye,
Or ellys ful still the plough maye stonde.
Than cometh the clerk anon at hande,
To have a shef of corne there it growe,
And the sexten somwhate in his hande.
'I praye to God, spede wele the plough.'

"The kyngis purviours also they come,
To have whete and otys at the kyngis nede;
And over that befe and mutton,
And butter and pulleyn, so God me spede!
And to the kyngis courte we moste it lede,
And our payment shal be a styk of a bough;
nd yet we moste speke faire for drede.
'I praye to God, spede wele the plough.'

"To paye the fiftene ayenst our ease,
Beside the lordys rente of our londe
Thus be we shepe shorne, we may not chese,
And yet it is full lytell understonde.
Than bayllys and bedellis woll put to their hande
In enquestis to doo us sorwe inough,
But yf we quite right wele the londe;
'I praye to God, spede wele the plough.'

"Than cometh prisoners and sheweth their nede,
What gret sorowe in prison theye drye.
'To buye the kyngis pardon we most take hede';
For man and beste they woll take money.
Than cometh the clerkes of Saint John Frary,
And rede in their bokis mennyis namyis inough.
And all they live by husbondrye
'I praye to God, spede wele the plough.'

"Then comme the graye Freres and make their mone,
And call for money our soulis to save;
Then comme the white Freres and begyn to grone,
Whete or barley they woll fayne have;
Then commeth the Freres Augustynes and begynneth to crave
Corne or chese, for they have not inough;
Then commeth the blak Freres which wolde fayne have.
'I praye to God, spede wele the plough.'

"And yet, amongest other, we may not forgete
The poore Observauntes that been so holy.
They muste amongis us have corne or mete;
They teche us alwaye to fle from foly,
And live in vertue full devowtely,
Preching dayly sermondys inough
With good examples full graciously.
'I praye to God, spede wele the plough.'

"Than cometh the sompner to have som rente,
And ellis he woll teche us a newe lore,
Saying we have lefte behynde unproved som testament,
And so he woll make us lese moche more.
Then commeth the grenewex which greveth us sore,
With ronnyng in reragis it doth us sorowe inough,
And after, we knowe nother why ne where-fore:
'I praye to God, spede wel the plough.'

"Then commeth prestis that goth to Rome
For to have silver to singe at Scala celi.
Than commeth clerkys of Oxford and make their mone,
To her scole hire they most have money.
Then commeth the tipped-staves for the Marshalse,
And saye they have prisoners mo than inough;
Then commeth the mynstrellis to make us gle
'I praye to God, spede wele the plough.'

"At London also yf we woll plete,
We shal not be spared, good chepe nor dere.
Our man of lawe may not be forgete,
But he moste have money every quartere;
And somme comme begging with the kyngis charter,
And saye, bisshoppis have graunted ther-to pardon inough;
And wymen commeth weping on the same maner.
'I praye to God, spede wele the plough.'"

And than I thanked this good husbond,
And prayed God the plough to spede,
And all tho that laboreth with the londe,
And them that helpeth them with worde or dede.
God give them grace such life to lede,
That in their concience maye be mery inough,
And heven blisse to be their mede,
And ever I praye, "God spede the plough."

:-) Ian

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Painful Plough
From: Leadfingers
Date: 01 Nov 02 - 08:32 AM

Nice to se Louis Killen getting a mentiopn.He was running the first folk club I ever joined,in Hitchin back in the bad old days

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Painful Plough
From: masato sakurai
Date: 01 Nov 02 - 08:47 AM

THE PAINFUL PLOUGH is in the DT, and has been discussed HERE.

~Masato