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Origins: The Sweet Briar
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Subject: RE: Origins: The Sweet Briar From: Dan Schatz Date: 12 Jul 21 - 02:16 PM Rosalie told me she learned it from Olive Wooley Burt, and that the proper title was "Singing in the Country," so that's what we used on Singing Through the Hard Times, even though Utah called it "Sweet Briar," and Caroline called it "Golden Bees." I'm certain Rosalie learned it with the melody. Dan |
Subject: RE: Origins: The Sweet Briar From: Vashta Nerada Date: 06 Mar 17 - 02:34 PM Burt has quite a few books in her oeuvre. The Google books scans may let you look at the contents to find the right one if you want to follow that path. |
Subject: RE: Origins: The Sweet Briar From: GUEST,Michael Cooney Date: 06 Mar 17 - 12:32 PM Phillips almost certainly learned it from Rosalie Sorrels who probably learned it from a book by Olive Wooley Burt. (Which is where she got "The Baby Trees" song.) So, probably, tune(s) by Rosalie. Best version I ever heard is sung by Larry Hanks. Most people know it by the title "Singing in the Country". |
Subject: RE: Origins: The Sweet Briar From: Bill D Date: 26 Mar 12 - 04:35 PM It is the last song on one of Bruce's LPs ...I believe he put the melody to it himself. I had not seen verses 3&4. Bruce only sang 1,2 & 5. I sing it myself now & then... |
Subject: Origins: The Sweet Briar From: GUEST,Julia L Date: 26 Mar 12 - 11:58 AM Yesterday, I heard an intriguing song at the Sunday sing-around at Sharp's Wharf in Rockland Maine (home of the owrld famous Sail and Steam Museum) Apparently this song was sung by Rosalie Sorrels as traditional and was performed at Utah Phillips funeral. It sounded very "19th century" to me, so I decided to do some digging I found only one reference to a poem in, of all places, The Phrenological journal of 1889..! I've copied it here, along with the song, for those who might enjoy tracing its journey. I have no idea who made the melody Best- Julia Lane THE SWEET BRIAR (as sung by Rosalie Sorrels) "The sweet briar and the aurum brush With blossoms purple gold and red Are flames that bloom within the bush And sacred seems the ground I tread. The golden bees, the golden bees Mock Memnon's sweetest melodies; The golden bees, the golden bees Mock Memnon's sweetest melodies. In shadow of the wood I lie Un-waked by dreams of noisy mart; Where dust and soot soil not the sky Nor hammers beat on human heart; Nor shuttles fleet, nor shuttles fleet Weave life into a winding sheet; Nor shuttles fleet, nor shuttles fleet Weave life into a winding sheet. When the pale axman strikes his stroke And takes the warm life from my breast, Plant by my grave a sapling oak And violets of azure crest. The oaken staff, the oaken staff My shaft, the flowers my epitaph; The oaken staff, the oaken staff My shaft, the flowers my epitaph." ---------- from The Phrenological journal and science of health: incorporated with the Phrenological magazine, Volumes 87-88 Fowler & Wells, 1889 page 252 In the Country George Washington Bungay (George Washington Bungay (July 22, 1818 – July 10, 1892). Born in Walsingham, England, he immigrated with his family to the United States in 1827 at age nine. Bungay was a poet, journalist, biographer, and anti-slavery and temperance reformer.) The sweet briar and the arum blush The blossoms purple gold and red Are flames that bloom within the bush And holy seems the ground I tread. The golden bees Mock Memnon's sweetest melodies; In shadows of the wood I lie And dream unwaked by noisy mart; Where smoke and dust veil not the sky Nor hammers beat on human heart; Nor shuttles fleet Weave life into a winding sheet. The summer leisure of the birds Is mine, and brings refreshing rest The flowers are many colored words That happy nature writes, and blest Is he who spells Aright the sylvan syllables. Here I can rest my weary brain; And win for health and life a lease And gather strength to fight again The war that wins the spoils of peace This rural calm Soothes the tired heart like healing balm When the pale axman strikes the stroke And stills the quick life in my bosom Plant near my grave a sapling oak And violets of azure blossom The oaken staff My shaft! - the flowers my epitaph! |
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