Lyr Req: Geordie Gill (from Anni Fentiman)

Subject: Lyr Req: Geordie Gill
From: GUEST,Jaime
Date: 28 Apr 06 - 12:32 PM

I have been Listening to Anni Fentiman sing "Geordie Gill" from her CD "Alone Together", and I can't find the lyrics. I got what I could from listening, but several parts are highly questionable. I put the parts that I have the most doubt of in parens. I hope that my guesses give you a chuckle.

Geordie Gil -- sung by Anni Fentiman

(Oh, come the lads) and see you know there's one unlike all of the rest
He's nicer in his workday clothes than others dressed all in their best
A woman's heart's a woman's own and she may give it to whom she will
If I had ten where I have none I'd give them all to Geordie Gill

Who was it stole the landlord's fruit for me when then's we went to school
Who was it dared go mid-thigh deep to fetch my coat out of the pool
And when the (fairlie) flung me off and long and longer I laid so ill
Who watched over me both night and day and wished me well? It was Geordie Gill

Oft mounted on his long-tailed nag with fine new boots up to his knee
The lad steps so light in the yard and a thousand (scrips) don't worry me
Oh father, mother, uncle too, to wear this (booby) tease me still
Go up to (here all these lands and brests) I'd still steal off to Geordie Gill

From Carlisle Prison Fanny came and brought a white-(haired) sweetheart down
With short neck (stook a bunny's looks) a poor thin fellow from the town
Well he minced and he walked and he skipped and he talked, got tired going up the hill
And looked as pale as any corpse compared to rosy Geordie Gill

My Geordie's whistling well I know long (are with) me to darkest night
And when he lilts and sings ("Gil Bol"), no playhouse music's half as sweet
A woman's heart's a woman's own and she may give it whom she will
My heart (went once but now is gone) for it belongs to Geordie Gil

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Geordie Gill
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 28 Apr 06 - 02:58 PM

Intersting but I struck out.....
of course there is the google reference to Geordie Gil as refuse removal company....

Dictionary says Gill can be a ravienne....

Conrad

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Geordie Gill
From: Mick Pearce (MCP)
Date: 28 Apr 06 - 03:57 PM

Here's what I think she's singing. I've changed night back to neet just for the rhyme. The only word I'm not sure of is brests, which I take to be a word for beasts, but it might be bress.

Mick

---

GEORDIE GILL

Of all the lads I see you know there's one I like above the rest
He's nicer in his weekday clothes than others dressed all in their best
A woman's heart's a woman's own and she may give it to who she will
If I had ten where I have none I'd give them all to Geordie Gill

Who was it stole the landlord's fruit for me when then's we went to school
Who was it dared go mid-thigh deep to fetch my coat out of the pool
And when the fairlie flung me off and long and long I lay so ill
Who watched o'er me both night and day and wished me well? It was Geordie Gill

Oft mounted on his long-tailed nag with fine new boots up to his knee
The laird's daft son lights in the yard and bows and scrapes to worry me
Though father, mother, uncle too, to wed this booby tease me still
Though oft I hear of his lands and brests (bress?) I still steal out to Geordie Gill

From Carlisle Cousin Fanny came and brought a white-faced sweetheart down
With short neck stuck above his looks a poor thin fellow from the town
Well he minced and he walked and he skipped and he talked, got tired going up the hill
And looked as pale as any corpse compared to rosy Geordie Gill

My Geordie's whistle well I know long e'er we meet the darkest neet
And when he lilts and sings "Skewball", no playhouse music's half as sweet
A woman's heart's a woman's own and she may give it who she will
I had one once but now I've none for it belongs to Geordie Gill.


Source: Anni Fentiman, on Dave Webber/Anni Fentiman CD Together Solo

Subject: Lyr Add: GEORDIE GILL (from Anni Fentiman)
From: Mick Pearce (MCP)
Date: 29 Apr 06 - 02:31 AM

Just had time to listen to it in the quiet of early morning and I've got the two things that I think I missed. The word I queried earlier in v3 was in fact brass and in v3 then's is bairns. I've corrected a couple of other minor errors. I've given my final version below. (Though With short neck stuck above his lugs doesn't seem to make proper sense, that ought to be the other way round!).

Mick

---

GEORDIE GILL

Of all the lads I see you know there's one I like above the rest
He's nicer in his weekday clothes than others dressed all in their best
A woman's heart's a woman's own and she may give it to who she will
If I had ten where I have none I'd give them all to Geordie Gill

Who was it stole the landlord's fruit for me when bairns we went to school
Who was it dared go mid-thigh deep to fetch my coat out of the pool
And when the fairlie flung me off and long and long I lay so ill
Who watched o'er me both night and day and wished me well? It was Geordie Gill

Oft mounted on his long-tailed nag with fine new boots up to his knee
The laird's daft son lights in the yard and bows and scrapes to worry me
Though father, mother, uncle too, to wed this booby tease me still
Though oft I hear of his lands and brass I still steal out to Geordie Gill

From Carlisle Cousin Fanny came and brought her white-faced

sweetheart down
With short neck stuck above his lugs a poor thin fellow from the town
Well he minced and he walked and he skipped and he talked, but tired going up the hill
And looked as pale as any corpse compared to rosy Geordie Gill

My Geordie's whistle well I know long e'er we meet the darkest neet
And when he lilts and sings "Skewball", no playhouse music's half as sweet
A woman's heart's a woman's own and she may give it who she will
I had one once but now I've none for it belongs to Geordie Gill.


Source: Anni Fentiman, on Dave Webber/Anni Fentiman CD Together Solo

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Geordie Gill (from Anni Fentiman)
From: GUEST,Jaime
Date: 01 May 06 - 01:43 PM

Thank you so much for your help. This will be a great song for me to sing!

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Geordie Gill (from Anni Fentiman)
From: Malcolm Douglas
Date: 01 May 06 - 02:24 PM

The song was written, as Gwordie Gill, by Robert Anderson round about 1804; it appeared in his Cumberland Ballads. The tune intended for it was Andrew wi' his Cutty Gun. Page images of the book can be seen at  The Farne Archive, but items can't be linked to directly. Use their search engine to find "Gwordie Gill".

The set discussed here seems to be an arrangement of one printed in Roy Palmer's Folk Songs Collected by Ralph Vaughan Williams, comprising a tune found in oral currency by RVW (no detailed source information survives), and set to Palmer's own adaptation of Anderson's (much longer and heavily dialectal) text.

I would imagine that Anni Fentiman credited her source on Together Solo. It's always helpful to tell us what you already know when asking a question, as it tends to save time and effort. Dave may have a copy of Palmer's book, for one thing. At all events, Dave's transcription is very close to Roy Palmer's text, though it's worth mentioning a couple of points:

I see or know

when the filly flung...

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Geordie Gill (from Anni Fentiman)
From: Mick Pearce (MCP)
Date: 01 May 06 - 02:41 PM

I thought I had a printed version of that - the Roy Palmer book was by my computer while I was listening to Anni's version; that could have saved me a bit of work!

Anni's notes state: "Written by the Cumberland poet Robert Anderson and published in 1828. The tune is the Scottish air called "Andro wi his Cutty Gun" The song was of course written to be sung with a Cumberland accent but apologies Anni can only provide a Geordie one".

As Malcolm says, the closeness to Roy Palmer's text, suggests that was the source.

Mick

Subject: Lyr Add: GWORDIE GILL (Robert Anderson)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 02 May 06 - 11:02 PM

I thought the dialect was interesting enough to warrant transcribing it. Note that this has one verse that Anni Fentiman omitted.

(See Malcolm's link above.)

GWORDIE GILL
Tune—"Andrew wi' his cutty gun."

Ov aw the lads I see or ken, theer's yen I leyke abuin the rest;
He's neycer in his war day claes, than others donn'd in aw their best.
A body's heart's a body's awn and they may gie't to whea they will;
Had I got ten, whoar I hae neane, I'd gie them aw to Gwordie Gill!

Whee was't that brak the landlword's garth, for me, when young we went to schuil?
Whee was't durst venture mid-thie deep, to bring mey clog out o' the puil?
And when frae horseback I was flung, an lang an lang I laid queyte ill,
Whee was't gowlt owre me day an neet, an wisht me weel?—'Twas Gwordie Gill.

Oft mountet on his lang-tail'd naig, wi' feyne new buits up till his tnee,
The laird's daft son leeghts i' the faul, an keaves as he wad wurry me;
Tho' fadder, mudder, uncle, aunt, to wed this maz'lin teaze me still,
I hear them tell of aw his gear, but oft steal out to Gwordie Gill.

The strae-hat meaker I' the town, she sens him letters monie a yen;
Sec brek-jaw words, an bits o' rheymes—she mun hae preyde, but sense hes neane!
Her letters, Gworge reads wid a laugh, an shews tem me, an rives them still—
Hed she nine teymes her weyte o' gowd, it cuddent aw buy Gwordie Gill.

From Carel, cousin Fanny com, an brong her whey-fenc'd lover down,
Wid sark-neck stuck abuin his lugs, a puir clipt-dinment frae the town;
He minct, an talkt, an skipt, an walked, but tir'd wheyle gangin up the hill,
And luikt just pale as onie corp, compar'd wi rwosy Gwordie Gill.

Mey Gworge's whussle weel I ken, lang ere we meet, the darkest neet,
And when he lilts, an sings Skewball; nee playhouse music's hawf sae sweet.
Owre earth ilk lass's heart's her awn, an she may gie't to whee she will;
Lang-seyne I'd yen, now I hae neane. 'Twas gien wi' joy to Gwordie Gill.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Geordie Gill (from Anni Fentiman)
From: treewind
Date: 03 May 06 - 03:45 AM

Instead of speculating wildly, why not contact Anni direct? (see "contact us" link on that page)

She doesn't bite!

Anahata

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Geordie Gill (from Anni Fentiman)
From: GUEST,Jaime
Date: 04 May 06 - 03:39 PM

Contacting Anni would have taken all the fun out of the wild speculation! I hope that I can do it justice; knowing the sense of the words, aided greatly by the transcription of the source, Jim and Malcolm, will be a help. Thanks all.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Geordie Gill (from Anni Fentiman)
From: Herga Kitty
Date: 09 May 06 - 04:30 AM

I forwarded the thread to Anni, who of course was in Padstow at the time, and I've just received this reply,

"I don't get into Mudcat but as to Geordie Gill, it was Ron Barnett who, in his ever generous way, gave me the anglicised version, copied from a book, that I sing. It must have been the Roy Palmer book they are talking about. I already had the words in another Northern Song Book but they were the broad cumbrian words that I didn't feel I could tackle. Since then I have found it printed several times and there is another verse that I sing now. To sing "Skewball" doesn't relate to the music hall song but it means when people sing and lilt no particular tune, my Auntie Edith used to sing Skewball all the time!"


Kitty

Subject: Lyr Add: GEORDIE GILL (from John Stokoe)
From: Mick Pearce (MCP)
Date: 30 Sep 06 - 02:42 PM

While looking for something else, I realised that this song was also published in a North-Eastern collection - John Stokoe's Songs of Northern England. The version is quite like the that in Cumbrian publication in the Farne Archive linked by Malcolm and transcribed by Jim above. I give the version below for comparison.

Mick

---

GEORDIE GILL

Of aw the lads I see or ken, There's yen I like abuin the rest;
He's neycer in his warday duds Than others donn'd in aw their best.
A body's heart's a body's awn, And they may gie't to whea they will;
Had I got ten, where I hae nean, I'd gie them aw to Geordie Gill.

Whee was't that brak our landword garth For me, when bairns we went to schuil?
Whea was't durst venture mid-thie deep, To get my clog out o' the puil?
And when the filly flang me off, And lang and lang I laid sae ill,
Whea was't gowl'd owre me day an neet, And wish'd me weel? 'Twas Geordie Gill.

Oft mounted on his lang-tail'd naig Wi' feyne new buits up till his knee,
The laird's daft son leets i' the fauld, And keaves as he wad wurry me;
Tho' fadder, mudder, uncle tui, To wed this maz'lin teaze me still,
I hear of aw his lan' and brass, But oft steal out to Geordie Gill.

From Carel, cousin Fanny com, And brong her whey-feac'd sweetheart down,
Wi' sark-neck stuck abuin his lugs, A peer clipt dinment frae the town;
He minc'd and talk'd and skipp'd and walk'd, But tired a gangin up the hill,
And luik'd as pale as ony corp, Compar'd to rowsie Geordie Gill.

My Geordie's whussle weel I ken, Lang ere we meet, the darkest neet;
And when he lilts, an sings Skewball, Ni playhouse music's hawf sae sweet.
A body's heart's a body's awn, And they may gie't to whea they will;
I yence had yen, now I hae nean, For it belangs to Geordie Gill.


Source: John Stokoe, Songs of Northern England, 1893

The notes say: "This spirited song is one of the productions of the Cumberland poet, Robert Anderson, whose songs are still the delight of all Cumbrians. A collection of his ballads was published at Carlisle in 1828. The tune is a well-known Scottish air, "Andro wi' his Cutty Gun."