Lyr Req: Guy Fawkes

Subject: Lyr Req: Guy Fawkes
From: GUEST,Psychomorris
Date: 05 Nov 08 - 03:23 PM

Could any one supply the lyrics please to a song heard at the Quarryman Bampton recently. Chorus line had 'We come a copper calling' in it. Brilliantly sung about gun powder treason and plot. For me the song keeps the English tradition alive. Thanks psychomorris

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Guy Fawkes
From: Bernard
Date: 05 Nov 08 - 03:34 PM

Origins here in Lancashire - and it's 'Cob Coaling'. There are other threads abut it somewhere... and the words are in DigiTrad.

Harry Boardman recorded it on Deep Lancashire with this chorus:

We come a cob-a-coaling, cob-a-coaling, cob-a-coaling
We come a cob-a-coaling for Bonfire Neet.


The Oldham Tinkers recorded a different version with this chorus:

We come a cob coaling for Bonfire tieme
Your coal and your money we hope to rnjoy
Fol-the-day, Fol-the-day, fol-the-diddle-aye-do-day

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Guy Fawkes
From: Bernard
Date: 05 Nov 08 - 03:38 PM

Here ye go!

Sorry about the mis-types above!!

Subject: ADD Version: Cob-a-Coaling
From: Bernard
Date: 05 Nov 08 - 03:47 PM

The Harry Boardman version doesn't seem to be in the Digitrad, but it doesn't mention 'Gunpowder, Treason and Plot', so is probably not the version you heard. It's the version I prefer, though - look at the last verse!!

COB-A-COALING

Chorus:
We come a-cob a-coaling,
Cob-a-coaling, cob-a-coaling,
We come a-cob a-coaling,
For Bonfire Neet.
The first to come in is a miner, so big,
With his pick and his shovel all ready to dig.
He digs it and picks it until it do fall,
And that is the way that we'll gather cob coal.

The next to come in is a sailor, you'll see,
With a bunch of blue ribbons tied under his knee.
He's travelled through England, through France and through Spain,
And now he's returned to old England again.

The last to come in, a miser is he,
He's a hump on his back, and he's blind of an e'e,
He's a weary owd feller, and he wears a pigtail,
And all he delights in is drinking mold ale.

Down in yon cellar there's an old umberella
There's nowt in yon corniche but an owd pepper pot.
Pepper pot, pepper pot, morning 'til night,
If you give us nowt, we'll tek nowt, and bid you good night.

Down in yon cellar, there's plenty of bugs,
They've eaten my stockings, and part of my clugs,
We'll tek a sharp knife, and we'll chop their yeds off,
And have a good supper of bugs yeds and broth.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Guy Fawkes
From: GUEST,Psychomorris
Date: 06 Nov 08 - 02:45 PM

Bernard many thanks for this. It could well be that my refined southern earha ha. misheard the chorus. Words seem right though. psychomorris

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Guy Fawkes
From: Bernard
Date: 07 Nov 08 - 08:10 PM

Hah!