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British supernatural folk-songs...?
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Senoufou Date: 01 Nov 23 - 04:53 AM Just to add, this macabre song was sung to the tune of The Teddy Bears' Picnic! |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Senoufou Date: 01 Nov 23 - 04:31 AM When in the Girl Guides (1950's) we sang:-
Whenever you see a hearse go by |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Reinhard Date: 02 Nov 23 - 12:32 AM I would translate the second-to-last verse as “Well below the roses, - well below the clover, Below them I'll decay - nevermore. And I copied Fay Hield's verses from her album's booklet to the Mainly Norfolk page so I trusted that the transcription is accurate ;-) |
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Subject: Lyr Add: WILLIE'S FATAL VISIT (from Ray Fisher) From: Jim Dixon Date: 03 Nov 23 - 02:38 PM This was mentioned by Georgina Boyes on 10 Oct 23. I found the lyrics at 3 places online, but I listened to the recording named below, and tweaked them to agree with what Ray Fisher sings. Several other singers have recorded the song also. You can hear Ray Fisher’s recording at Spotify or YouTube. WILLIE’S FATAL VISIT As recorded by Ray Fisher on “Traditional Songs of Scotland,” 1991. Does my love ride, or does he rin, Or does he walk the woods amang? He vow’d this nicht tae come tae me. Alas! but my love tarries lang. He disnae ride nor does he rin, But fast walks he along his way. He has mair mind on his fair new love Than he has o’ the licht o’ day. He saw a hound draw near a hare, And aye that hare draw near a toun, And that same hound has won the hare, But Willie’s won tae ne’er a toun. For as he gaed up yon high, high hill, And on and doon yon dowie den, ’Twas there he met wi’ a greivious ghost That would fear ten thousand men. He’s hurried on thro’ Mary’s Kirk, And on and doon by Mary’s Stile, And wan and weary was the ghost That upon him grimly smiled. “Aft hae ye traivell’d this road, Willie, Aft hae ye traivell’d it in sin, But ye’ll never traivel this road again, For yer days on Earth are deen. “Aft hae ye traivell’d this road, Willie, Wi’ ne’er a thocht o’ charity, But ye’ll never traivel this road again, For the slightin’ o’ the bairn an’ me. “Aft hae ye traivell’d this road, Willie, Yer fair and new love for to see. But ye’ll never traivel this road again, For this nicht aveng’d I’ll be.” Then she has ta’en her perjur’d love, An’ she has torn him fae gair tae gair, And on ilka side o’ Mary’s Stile O’ Willie she has hung a share. His faither and mither both mak moan. His bonnie new love she grat sair. His faither and mither both mak moan, And his new love tears her hair. |
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Subject: Lyr Add: THE HUNTSMAN (from Fay Hield) From: Jim Dixon Date: 01 Nov 23 - 03:55 PM GUEST,ottery mentioned this on 30 Oct 19 - 06:20 AM. I found these lyrics at the Mainly Norfolk website, and I also listened to the recording on Spotify and verified that the transcription is accurate. (I tweaked the spelling and punctuation a bit, though.) You can also hear a performance on YouTube. THE HUNTSMAN As sung by Fay Hield on “Looking Glass,” 2010. The huntsman blew loud on his horn, blew loud on his horn, And all that he blew it was lost and gone, was lost and gone, Tarrio sa sa, ti ra la la, And all that he blew it was lost and gone. He cast his net the bush about, the bush about. A nut-brown girl jumped quickly out, jumped quickly out, Tarrio sa sa, ti ra la la, A nut-brown girl jumped quickly out. O nut-brown girl, don’t you run away, don’t run away. My hounds they will run and they’ll howl and bay, they’ll howl and bay, Tarrio sa sa, ti ra la la, My hounds they will run and they’ll howl and bay. Your hounds may run but they’ll catch me not, they’ll catch me not, I’ll run through fields and I’ll never stop, I’ll never stop, Tarrio sa sa, ti ra la la, I’ll run through fields and I’ll never stop. My hounds will win and you know full well, you know full well, They long for the sound of your funeral bell, your funeral bell, Tarrio sa sa, ti ra la la, They long for the sound of your funeral bell. Well, if I die, then I’ll be dead, then I’ll be dead, And bury me under the roses red, the roses red, Tarrio sa sa, ti ra la la, And bury me under the roses red. And on her grave the rose grew tall, the rose grew tall, A squire rode by for to pick them all, to pick them all, Tarrio sa sa, ti ra la la, A squire rode by for to pick them all. O squire, O squire, let the roses stand, the roses stand. They are for a better young huntsman’s hand, a huntsman’s hand, Tarrio sa sa, ti ra la la, They are for a better young huntsman’s hand. The huntsman blew loud on his horn, blew loud on his horn, And all that he blew it was lost and gone, was lost and gone, Tarrio sa sa, ti ra la la, And all that he blew it was lost and gone. * * * Tbis appears to be a translation of a German song. The Mainly Norfolk website also gives lyrics in German: ES BLIES EIN JÄGER WOHL IN SEIN HORN After the old ballad of the Nachtjäger (the night hunter); melody after Friedrich Nicolai, 1777 Es blies ein Jäger wohl in sein Horn, wohl in sein Horn, Und alles was er blies, das war verlor’n, das war verlor’n Hallia hussassa! Tirallala! Und alles was er blies, das war verlor’n. Soll denn mein Blasen - verloren sein? ... Viel lieber wollt’ ich kein Jäger sein. ... Er warf sein Netz - wohl über’n Strauch ... Da sprang ein schwarzbraunes - Mädel heraus ... „Ach schwarzbraunes Mädel, - entspring mir nicht! ... Ich habe große Hunde, - die holen dich. ... „Deine großen Hunde. - die fürcht ich nicht, ... Sie kennen meine hohen, - weiten Sprünge nicht. ... „Deine hohen weiten Sprünge, - die kennen sie wohl, ... Sie wissen, daß du heute - noch sterben sollst. ... „Und sterbe ich heute, - so bin ich tot, ... Begräbt man mich - unter Rosen rot. ... „Wohl unter die Rosen, - wohl unter den Klee, ... Darunter vergeh’ - ich nimmermeh’. ... Er warf ihr das Netz - wohl über’n Leib, ... Da ward sie des jungfrischen - Jägers Weib. [Literal translation:] A hunter blew his horn, his horn, And everything he blew was lost, it was lost Hallia hussassa! Tirallala! And everything he blew was lost. Should my blowing be lost? ... I would much rather not be a hunter. ... He threw his net – however, over a bush... Then a dark brown girl jumped out... “Oh, dark brown girl, don’t run from me! ... I have big dogs - they'll come for you. ... “Your big dogs. - I'm not afraid of them... You don't know my high, long jumps. ... “Your high, long jumps - they know them well... They know that you are supposed to die today. ... “And if I die today, I am dead... Bury me - under red roses. ... “Well among the roses, - well among the clover, ... Underneath it disappearing - I never go. ...[*] He threw the net over her body ... Then she became the young hunter's wife. ... * I think this line could use a better translation, but I am not fluent in German, and Google wasn’t much help. |
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Subject: Lyr Add: GEORGE JOSEPH SMITH (Big Al Whittle) From: Jim Dixon Date: 01 Nov 23 - 01:21 PM This was mentioned by Big Al Whittle on 28 Oct 19 (and in several other threads) but apparently the lyrics have never been posted at Mudcat before. Furthermore, Big Al’s website is defunct, and so is the Soundcloud page he linked to. But Big Al himself is still around, and I hope he won’t mind me posting these. Following is my transcription from Spotify. You can also hear it at YouTube: GEORGE JOSEPH SMITH As recorded by Big Al Whittle on “St Peter and John Dillinger,” 2006. Well now, my name is George Joseph Smith, And I’m the bloke you’d hate to tangle with. Oh, yes, I will, mate, make you me wife As soon as I’ve insured your life. Then I’ll drown you in the bath, drown you in the bath, Drown you in the bath ‘cause I’m a psychopath. Now, some people think as I’m not the norm ‘Cause I like fillin’ in insurance forms. It isn’t that I like to kill, But fillin’ in the forms gives me a thrill. And I drown ‘em in the bath, drown ‘em in the bath, Drown ‘em in the bath ‘cause I’m a psychopath. I drown…. Now, the most moving thing what I ever heard Was my good lady wife’s dying words. As I yanked her into the tub, She softly murmered: “Glub, glub, glub-glub-glub, glub-glub-glub-glub-glub.” Oh, I drowned her in the bath, drowned her in the bath, Drowned her in the bath ‘cause I’m a psychopath. Drowned her…. So in my prison cell I sit, Well and truly—in—the deepest trouble imaginable, But before I go to meet my end. I still think I could recommend— Yeah, drowning in the bath, drowning in the bath, Drowning in the bath if you’re a psychopath. [Big Al uses cockney pronunciations (“frill” for “thrill,” etc.) but I have not attempted to represent them in these lyrics. See the Wikipedia article about George Joseph Smith.] |
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Subject: Lyr Add: THE GHOST WI’ THE SQUEAKY WHEEL (Clelland From: Jim Dixon Date: 31 Oct 23 - 12:27 PM Rumncoke mentioned this on 15 Oct 20. Lyrics copied from a blog, here, and tweaked a bit by me, to agree with what Robin Lang seems to sing. The blog has a recording, and so does Spotify. THE GHOST WI’ THE SQUEAKY WHEEL Written by Tom Clelland As recorded by Robin Lang on “The Water of Life” (2003) Now, Wullie was a fearless man. When other fellows turned and ran, He’d shake the shiver from his hand And stand up straight an’ weel. All superstitions he disdained As spooky stories fit for a wean Till he met a phantom o’ his ain, A ghost wi’ a squeaky wheel. The bells had claimed the old year end. Wullie’d been first-footin’ friends. Blithely turnin’ home again, He took the river road. The moon was full with frosty bite, The water deep and still and iced, His breath like silver stars at night, No living soul abroad. CHORUS: Now, blended whisky’s power is slight. Guid malt could face the deil, Should you meet on a winter’s night A ghost wi’ a squeaky wheel. Past Crossford Park and village sign, The iron brig and wall behind, The silver birch and the old hedge line, Wull sauntered worry-free, When in the distance came a great Sound that made him stand and wait, Like the swinging o’ some hellish gate, A rasping, rhythmic gree. Wull stood transfixed as it drew near, The squeaking growing ever clear, A piercing echo through his ear, From the depths of Hell it rang; An’ a sight that gripped him tae the marrow: A figure, ghostly grey and hollow, A grisly shape that pushed a barrow Wi’ the face of old Boab Lang. CHORUS “Well, Boab,” said Wull, and showed no fear, “It’s unco strange tae meet you here. We have nae met these twenty year, Mony an Auld Lang Syne.” The ghost looked Wullie in the eye An’, in a mournful voice, did cry: “Beware, puir sinner, born to die! Be ready for your time! “We all must pass, each single yin, Our earthly pockets filled wi’ sin, That drags us doon and draws us in To this world and its sorrows. Damned selfishness breeds despair, Transgressions greedy, cruel and sair— We a’ hae sins, but I had mair, Enough to fill this barrow. CHORUS “The Clyde, the burn, the Nethan River Bind me on this road forever. Runnin’ water I can never Cross nor bridges breach. Between these points, traverse I must. These chains and torture serve me just, But the worst is this infernal rust And this old wheel’s hellish screech.” Says Wull, “Ma freend, I cannae judge. I’ll try help you wi’ your drudge.” But the barrow Wullie couldnae budge Like it were solid steel. “But I have the very dab,” cries he. “The finest whisky’s what you need.” And his good malt Wullie freely gied An’ poured it on the wheel. The whisky stopped the squeakin’ dead. The ghostly figure smiled instead. The screechin’ ceased in Wullie’s head, And silence once more reigned. Wull crossed the bridge at Hazel Burn, His good deed done, his sleep well earned, An’ he watched the ghost as he did turn And started down again. CHORUS TWICE |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: GUEST,paperback Date: 02 Nov 23 - 01:06 AM Senoufou We sang - The worms crawl in the worms crawl out the worms play pinochle on your snout They eat your eyes they eat your nose they eat the jelly between your toes No problem from the folks with my brother and I singing this but one night in the car I added 'pray for the dead and the dead will pray for you' and there was a pause then a stern Baptist warning not to say 'that!' Go figure ( - : |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: GUEST,paperback Date: 02 Nov 23 - 01:34 AM Its not British but you may enjoy it Boones Ferry Road (Shoebox Letters) Right near to the exact spot that fateful night I was called out for praying Some background https://newcollinsview.blog/history/BoonesFerryRoad/ All things considered perhaps I shall say a prayer or two for Jesse Boone |
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Subject: Lyr Add: WITH 'ER 'EAD TUCKED UNDERNEATH 'ER ARM From: The Og Date: 01 Oct 23 - 06:27 PM Not a folk song - 1934 lyrics by R P Weston and Bert Lee, music by Harris Weston - but a good number.. With Her Head Tucked Underneath Her Arm In the tower of London, large as life The ghost of Anne Bolyn walks, they declare Poor Anne Bolyn was once King Henry's wife Until he made the headsman bob her hair Ah, yes, he did her wrong long years ago And she comes up at night to tell him so With her head tucked underneath her arm She walks the bloody tower With her head tucked underneath her arm At the midnight hour She comes to haunt King Henry, she means giving him what for Gadzooks, she's going to tell him off for having spilled her gore And just in case the headsman wants to give her an encore She has her head tucked underneath her arm With her head tucked underneath her arm She walks the bloody tower With her head tucked underneath her arm At the midnight hour Along the draughty corridors, for miles and miles she goes She often catches cold, poor thing It's cold there when it blows And it's awfully awkward for the Queen to have to blow her nose With her head tucked underneath her arm Sometimes gay King Henry gives a spread For all his gals and pals and ghostly crew The headsman craves the joint and cuts the bread Then in comes Anne Bolyn to queer the do She holds her head up with a wild war whoop And Henry cries "don't drop it in the soup!" With her head tucked underneath her arm She walks the bloody tower, With her head tucked underneath her arm At the midnight hour The sentries think that it's a football that she carries in And when they've had a few they shout "is Ars'nal going to win?" They think it's Alec James instead of poor old Ann Boleyn With her head tucked underneath her arm With her head tucked underneath her arm She walks the bloody tower With her head tucked underneath her arm At the midnight hour One night she caught King Henry, he was in the canteen bar Said he, "are you Jane Seymour, Anne Bolyn, or Katherine Parr? For how the sweet san fairy ann do I know who you are With your head tucked underneath your arm?" |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Black belt caterpillar wrestler Date: 02 Oct 23 - 05:34 PM I should add that Nick Hennesey does a very good version of the "Holland handkerchief" where he sings part of the story then switches to storytelling mode then reverts to singing for the end. Robin |
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Subject: Lyr Add: THE SENTRY AND THE NIGHT VISITOR From: Black belt caterpillar wrestler Date: 02 Oct 23 - 05:32 PM I wrote this one a few year back to use at Halloween. It's based on some old folk tales blended with some science fantasy. Best performed by a duo taking half a verse each. THE SENTRY AND THE NIGHT VISITOR. “Who comes this way?” the sentry cried, Peering through the dark. “Who comes this way at dead of night, And causes dogs to bark?” “You do not want to know my name, Nor yet my purpose here. Forget that I have come this way Or it will cost you dear.” “Stand forward, and be recognised.” The sentry called again. “ For I must know if you are foe or friend to those within. “There are some here who combat me Each and every day To others I am bless’d relief A friend upon their way.” “Why come you now at dead of night?” The sentry questioned still. “What business will not wait ‘til light And better time fulfil?” “My business waits for none, I fear, The time already planned, For light and dark are both the same As neither stay my hand.” “Who do you visit in this place?” The sentry now did ask. “Who has business at this hour, Why now this ill timed task?” “I come for one within these walls, To take him far away, But who will come with me tonight Is not for me to say.” “I know you now” the sentry said “The one who comes for all. But I must stand my post outside And keep you from the wall.” “Then you will come with me tonight, And keep your word in faith. For those within will all sleep sound.” So vanished man and wraith. Robin |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Big Al Whittle Date: 01 Oct 23 - 10:33 AM Does anyone remember that Jim Reeves song about a ghost dog? His master returns home after many years away The dog saves him from drowning in the creek, He gets home and they tell him that the dog died ages ago. It used to be on a jukebox in a pub I went into. [That would be Old Tige. -- A Mudelf]
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Mrrzy Date: 02 Oct 23 - 09:42 PM Ooh I like the man and wraith. Tune? |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: GUEST,RJM Date: 02 Oct 23 - 02:54 AM The Wife of Usher's Well |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: GUEST,Georgina Boyes Date: 01 Oct 23 - 08:23 AM "Willie's Fatal Visit" Roud 244; Child 255 is hard to beat for ghostly chills - Ray Fisher does a magnificent job of singing it too. |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: GUEST,RJM Date: 03 Oct 23 - 03:11 AM black belt,that is a clever well written song |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: GUEST,Peter Laban Date: 01 Oct 23 - 07:12 AM Again, if you don't mind Irish sources, this is hard to beat: The Otherworld |
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Subject: Lyr Add: WILLIE'S FATAL VISIT (from Ray Fisher) From: Jim Dixon Date: 03 Nov 23 - 02:38 PM This was mentioned by Georgina Boyes on 10 Oct 23. I found the lyrics at 3 places online, but I listened to the recording named below, and tweaked them to agree with what Ray Fisher sings. Several other singers have recorded the song also. You can hear Ray Fisher’s recording at Spotify or YouTube. WILLIE’S FATAL VISIT As recorded by Ray Fisher on “Traditional Songs of Scotland,” 1991. Does my love ride, or does he rin, Or does he walk the woods amang? He vow’d this nicht tae come tae me. Alas! but my love tarries lang. He disnae ride nor does he rin, But fast walks he along his way. He has mair mind on his fair new love Than he has o’ the licht o’ day. He saw a hound draw near a hare, And aye that hare draw near a toun, And that same hound has won the hare, But Willie’s won tae ne’er a toun. For as he gaed up yon high, high hill, And on and doon yon dowie den, ’Twas there he met wi’ a greivious ghost That would fear ten thousand men. He’s hurried on thro’ Mary’s Kirk, And on and doon by Mary’s Stile, And wan and weary was the ghost That upon him grimly smiled. “Aft hae ye traivell’d this road, Willie, Aft hae ye traivell’d it in sin, But ye’ll never traivel this road again, For yer days on Earth are deen. “Aft hae ye traivell’d this road, Willie, Wi’ ne’er a thocht o’ charity, But ye’ll never traivel this road again, For the slightin’ o’ the bairn an’ me. “Aft hae ye traivell’d this road, Willie, Yer fair and new love for to see. But ye’ll never traivel this road again, For this nicht aveng’d I’ll be.” Then she has ta’en her perjur’d love, An’ she has torn him fae gair tae gair, And on ilka side o’ Mary’s Stile O’ Willie she has hung a share. His faither and mither both mak moan. His bonnie new love she grat sair. His faither and mither both mak moan, And his new love tears her hair. |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: GUEST,paperback Date: 02 Nov 23 - 01:34 AM Its not British but you may enjoy it Boones Ferry Road (Shoebox Letters) Right near to the exact spot that fateful night I was called out for praying Some background https://newcollinsview.blog/history/BoonesFerryRoad/ All things considered perhaps I shall say a prayer or two for Jesse Boone |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: GUEST,paperback Date: 02 Nov 23 - 01:06 AM Senoufou We sang - The worms crawl in the worms crawl out the worms play pinochle on your snout They eat your eyes they eat your nose they eat the jelly between your toes No problem from the folks with my brother and I singing this but one night in the car I added 'pray for the dead and the dead will pray for you' and there was a pause then a stern Baptist warning not to say 'that!' Go figure ( - : |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Reinhard Date: 02 Nov 23 - 12:32 AM I would translate the second-to-last verse as “Well below the roses, - well below the clover, Below them I'll decay - nevermore. And I copied Fay Hield's verses from her album's booklet to the Mainly Norfolk page so I trusted that the transcription is accurate ;-) |
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Subject: Lyr Add: THE HUNTSMAN (from Fay Hield) From: Jim Dixon Date: 01 Nov 23 - 03:55 PM GUEST,ottery mentioned this on 30 Oct 19 - 06:20 AM. I found these lyrics at the Mainly Norfolk website, and I also listened to the recording on Spotify and verified that the transcription is accurate. (I tweaked the spelling and punctuation a bit, though.) You can also hear a performance on YouTube. THE HUNTSMAN As sung by Fay Hield on “Looking Glass,” 2010. The huntsman blew loud on his horn, blew loud on his horn, And all that he blew it was lost and gone, was lost and gone, Tarrio sa sa, ti ra la la, And all that he blew it was lost and gone. He cast his net the bush about, the bush about. A nut-brown girl jumped quickly out, jumped quickly out, Tarrio sa sa, ti ra la la, A nut-brown girl jumped quickly out. O nut-brown girl, don’t you run away, don’t run away. My hounds they will run and they’ll howl and bay, they’ll howl and bay, Tarrio sa sa, ti ra la la, My hounds they will run and they’ll howl and bay. Your hounds may run but they’ll catch me not, they’ll catch me not, I’ll run through fields and I’ll never stop, I’ll never stop, Tarrio sa sa, ti ra la la, I’ll run through fields and I’ll never stop. My hounds will win and you know full well, you know full well, They long for the sound of your funeral bell, your funeral bell, Tarrio sa sa, ti ra la la, They long for the sound of your funeral bell. Well, if I die, then I’ll be dead, then I’ll be dead, And bury me under the roses red, the roses red, Tarrio sa sa, ti ra la la, And bury me under the roses red. And on her grave the rose grew tall, the rose grew tall, A squire rode by for to pick them all, to pick them all, Tarrio sa sa, ti ra la la, A squire rode by for to pick them all. O squire, O squire, let the roses stand, the roses stand. They are for a better young huntsman’s hand, a huntsman’s hand, Tarrio sa sa, ti ra la la, They are for a better young huntsman’s hand. The huntsman blew loud on his horn, blew loud on his horn, And all that he blew it was lost and gone, was lost and gone, Tarrio sa sa, ti ra la la, And all that he blew it was lost and gone. * * * Tbis appears to be a translation of a German song. The Mainly Norfolk website also gives lyrics in German: ES BLIES EIN JÄGER WOHL IN SEIN HORN After the old ballad of the Nachtjäger (the night hunter); melody after Friedrich Nicolai, 1777 Es blies ein Jäger wohl in sein Horn, wohl in sein Horn, Und alles was er blies, das war verlor’n, das war verlor’n Hallia hussassa! Tirallala! Und alles was er blies, das war verlor’n. Soll denn mein Blasen - verloren sein? ... Viel lieber wollt’ ich kein Jäger sein. ... Er warf sein Netz - wohl über’n Strauch ... Da sprang ein schwarzbraunes - Mädel heraus ... „Ach schwarzbraunes Mädel, - entspring mir nicht! ... Ich habe große Hunde, - die holen dich. ... „Deine großen Hunde. - die fürcht ich nicht, ... Sie kennen meine hohen, - weiten Sprünge nicht. ... „Deine hohen weiten Sprünge, - die kennen sie wohl, ... Sie wissen, daß du heute - noch sterben sollst. ... „Und sterbe ich heute, - so bin ich tot, ... Begräbt man mich - unter Rosen rot. ... „Wohl unter die Rosen, - wohl unter den Klee, ... Darunter vergeh’ - ich nimmermeh’. ... Er warf ihr das Netz - wohl über’n Leib, ... Da ward sie des jungfrischen - Jägers Weib. [Literal translation:] A hunter blew his horn, his horn, And everything he blew was lost, it was lost Hallia hussassa! Tirallala! And everything he blew was lost. Should my blowing be lost? ... I would much rather not be a hunter. ... He threw his net – however, over a bush... Then a dark brown girl jumped out... “Oh, dark brown girl, don’t run from me! ... I have big dogs - they'll come for you. ... “Your big dogs. - I'm not afraid of them... You don't know my high, long jumps. ... “Your high, long jumps - they know them well... They know that you are supposed to die today. ... “And if I die today, I am dead... Bury me - under red roses. ... “Well among the roses, - well among the clover, ... Underneath it disappearing - I never go. ...[*] He threw the net over her body ... Then she became the young hunter's wife. ... * I think this line could use a better translation, but I am not fluent in German, and Google wasn’t much help. |
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Subject: Lyr Add: GEORGE JOSEPH SMITH (Big Al Whittle) From: Jim Dixon Date: 01 Nov 23 - 01:21 PM This was mentioned by Big Al Whittle on 28 Oct 19 (and in several other threads) but apparently the lyrics have never been posted at Mudcat before. Furthermore, Big Al’s website is defunct, and so is the Soundcloud page he linked to. But Big Al himself is still around, and I hope he won’t mind me posting these. Following is my transcription from Spotify. You can also hear it at YouTube: GEORGE JOSEPH SMITH As recorded by Big Al Whittle on “St Peter and John Dillinger,” 2006. Well now, my name is George Joseph Smith, And I’m the bloke you’d hate to tangle with. Oh, yes, I will, mate, make you me wife As soon as I’ve insured your life. Then I’ll drown you in the bath, drown you in the bath, Drown you in the bath ‘cause I’m a psychopath. Now, some people think as I’m not the norm ‘Cause I like fillin’ in insurance forms. It isn’t that I like to kill, But fillin’ in the forms gives me a thrill. And I drown ‘em in the bath, drown ‘em in the bath, Drown ‘em in the bath ‘cause I’m a psychopath. I drown…. Now, the most moving thing what I ever heard Was my good lady wife’s dying words. As I yanked her into the tub, She softly murmered: “Glub, glub, glub-glub-glub, glub-glub-glub-glub-glub.” Oh, I drowned her in the bath, drowned her in the bath, Drowned her in the bath ‘cause I’m a psychopath. Drowned her…. So in my prison cell I sit, Well and truly—in—the deepest trouble imaginable, But before I go to meet my end. I still think I could recommend— Yeah, drowning in the bath, drowning in the bath, Drowning in the bath if you’re a psychopath. [Big Al uses cockney pronunciations (“frill” for “thrill,” etc.) but I have not attempted to represent them in these lyrics. See the Wikipedia article about George Joseph Smith.] |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Senoufou Date: 01 Nov 23 - 04:53 AM Just to add, this macabre song was sung to the tune of The Teddy Bears' Picnic! |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Senoufou Date: 01 Nov 23 - 04:31 AM When in the Girl Guides (1950's) we sang:-
Whenever you see a hearse go by |
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Subject: Lyr Add: THE GHOST WI’ THE SQUEAKY WHEEL (Clelland From: Jim Dixon Date: 31 Oct 23 - 12:27 PM Rumncoke mentioned this on 15 Oct 20. Lyrics copied from a blog, here, and tweaked a bit by me, to agree with what Robin Lang seems to sing. The blog has a recording, and so does Spotify. THE GHOST WI’ THE SQUEAKY WHEEL Written by Tom Clelland As recorded by Robin Lang on “The Water of Life” (2003) Now, Wullie was a fearless man. When other fellows turned and ran, He’d shake the shiver from his hand And stand up straight an’ weel. All superstitions he disdained As spooky stories fit for a wean Till he met a phantom o’ his ain, A ghost wi’ a squeaky wheel. The bells had claimed the old year end. Wullie’d been first-footin’ friends. Blithely turnin’ home again, He took the river road. The moon was full with frosty bite, The water deep and still and iced, His breath like silver stars at night, No living soul abroad. CHORUS: Now, blended whisky’s power is slight. Guid malt could face the deil, Should you meet on a winter’s night A ghost wi’ a squeaky wheel. Past Crossford Park and village sign, The iron brig and wall behind, The silver birch and the old hedge line, Wull sauntered worry-free, When in the distance came a great Sound that made him stand and wait, Like the swinging o’ some hellish gate, A rasping, rhythmic gree. Wull stood transfixed as it drew near, The squeaking growing ever clear, A piercing echo through his ear, From the depths of Hell it rang; An’ a sight that gripped him tae the marrow: A figure, ghostly grey and hollow, A grisly shape that pushed a barrow Wi’ the face of old Boab Lang. CHORUS “Well, Boab,” said Wull, and showed no fear, “It’s unco strange tae meet you here. We have nae met these twenty year, Mony an Auld Lang Syne.” The ghost looked Wullie in the eye An’, in a mournful voice, did cry: “Beware, puir sinner, born to die! Be ready for your time! “We all must pass, each single yin, Our earthly pockets filled wi’ sin, That drags us doon and draws us in To this world and its sorrows. Damned selfishness breeds despair, Transgressions greedy, cruel and sair— We a’ hae sins, but I had mair, Enough to fill this barrow. CHORUS “The Clyde, the burn, the Nethan River Bind me on this road forever. Runnin’ water I can never Cross nor bridges breach. Between these points, traverse I must. These chains and torture serve me just, But the worst is this infernal rust And this old wheel’s hellish screech.” Says Wull, “Ma freend, I cannae judge. I’ll try help you wi’ your drudge.” But the barrow Wullie couldnae budge Like it were solid steel. “But I have the very dab,” cries he. “The finest whisky’s what you need.” And his good malt Wullie freely gied An’ poured it on the wheel. The whisky stopped the squeakin’ dead. The ghostly figure smiled instead. The screechin’ ceased in Wullie’s head, And silence once more reigned. Wull crossed the bridge at Hazel Burn, His good deed done, his sleep well earned, An’ he watched the ghost as he did turn And started down again. CHORUS TWICE |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: GUEST,RJM Date: 03 Oct 23 - 03:11 AM black belt,that is a clever well written song |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Mrrzy Date: 02 Oct 23 - 09:42 PM Ooh I like the man and wraith. Tune? |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Black belt caterpillar wrestler Date: 02 Oct 23 - 05:34 PM I should add that Nick Hennesey does a very good version of the "Holland handkerchief" where he sings part of the story then switches to storytelling mode then reverts to singing for the end. Robin |
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Subject: Lyr Add: THE SENTRY AND THE NIGHT VISITOR From: Black belt caterpillar wrestler Date: 02 Oct 23 - 05:32 PM I wrote this one a few year back to use at Halloween. It's based on some old folk tales blended with some science fantasy. Best performed by a duo taking half a verse each. THE SENTRY AND THE NIGHT VISITOR. “Who comes this way?” the sentry cried, Peering through the dark. “Who comes this way at dead of night, And causes dogs to bark?” “You do not want to know my name, Nor yet my purpose here. Forget that I have come this way Or it will cost you dear.” “Stand forward, and be recognised.” The sentry called again. “ For I must know if you are foe or friend to those within. “There are some here who combat me Each and every day To others I am bless’d relief A friend upon their way.” “Why come you now at dead of night?” The sentry questioned still. “What business will not wait ‘til light And better time fulfil?” “My business waits for none, I fear, The time already planned, For light and dark are both the same As neither stay my hand.” “Who do you visit in this place?” The sentry now did ask. “Who has business at this hour, Why now this ill timed task?” “I come for one within these walls, To take him far away, But who will come with me tonight Is not for me to say.” “I know you now” the sentry said “The one who comes for all. But I must stand my post outside And keep you from the wall.” “Then you will come with me tonight, And keep your word in faith. For those within will all sleep sound.” So vanished man and wraith. Robin |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: GUEST,RJM Date: 02 Oct 23 - 02:54 AM The Wife of Usher's Well |
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Subject: Lyr Add: WITH 'ER 'EAD TUCKED UNDERNEATH 'ER ARM From: The Og Date: 01 Oct 23 - 06:27 PM Not a folk song - 1934 lyrics by R P Weston and Bert Lee, music by Harris Weston - but a good number.. With Her Head Tucked Underneath Her Arm In the tower of London, large as life The ghost of Anne Bolyn walks, they declare Poor Anne Bolyn was once King Henry's wife Until he made the headsman bob her hair Ah, yes, he did her wrong long years ago And she comes up at night to tell him so With her head tucked underneath her arm She walks the bloody tower With her head tucked underneath her arm At the midnight hour She comes to haunt King Henry, she means giving him what for Gadzooks, she's going to tell him off for having spilled her gore And just in case the headsman wants to give her an encore She has her head tucked underneath her arm With her head tucked underneath her arm She walks the bloody tower With her head tucked underneath her arm At the midnight hour Along the draughty corridors, for miles and miles she goes She often catches cold, poor thing It's cold there when it blows And it's awfully awkward for the Queen to have to blow her nose With her head tucked underneath her arm Sometimes gay King Henry gives a spread For all his gals and pals and ghostly crew The headsman craves the joint and cuts the bread Then in comes Anne Bolyn to queer the do She holds her head up with a wild war whoop And Henry cries "don't drop it in the soup!" With her head tucked underneath her arm She walks the bloody tower, With her head tucked underneath her arm At the midnight hour The sentries think that it's a football that she carries in And when they've had a few they shout "is Ars'nal going to win?" They think it's Alec James instead of poor old Ann Boleyn With her head tucked underneath her arm With her head tucked underneath her arm She walks the bloody tower With her head tucked underneath her arm At the midnight hour One night she caught King Henry, he was in the canteen bar Said he, "are you Jane Seymour, Anne Bolyn, or Katherine Parr? For how the sweet san fairy ann do I know who you are With your head tucked underneath your arm?" |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Big Al Whittle Date: 01 Oct 23 - 10:33 AM Does anyone remember that Jim Reeves song about a ghost dog? His master returns home after many years away The dog saves him from drowning in the creek, He gets home and they tell him that the dog died ages ago. It used to be on a jukebox in a pub I went into. [That would be Old Tige. -- A Mudelf]
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: GUEST,Georgina Boyes Date: 01 Oct 23 - 08:23 AM "Willie's Fatal Visit" Roud 244; Child 255 is hard to beat for ghostly chills - Ray Fisher does a magnificent job of singing it too. |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: GUEST,Peter Laban Date: 01 Oct 23 - 07:12 AM Again, if you don't mind Irish sources, this is hard to beat: The Otherworld |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Felipa Date: 16 Oct 20 - 07:32 PM see also Ballads and songs w/ haunting theme ( a recent Mudcat thread) |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: The Sandman Date: 16 Oct 20 - 04:30 PM https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r-ogTQqP6NQ Halloween |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Gordon Jackson Date: 16 Oct 20 - 12:26 PM I’m quite surprised no one’s mentioned the book, Folklore in the English and Scottish Ballads, by Lowry Charles Wimberly. Originally published in, I think, 1928, it’s still in print today. Excellent book. |
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Subject: Lyr Add: GREEN GROWS THE LAUREL From: Mrrzy Date: 16 Oct 20 - 08:56 AM In Dublin's fair city, in Dublin's fair town There lived a young girl by the name of miss Brown She courted a sailor for 7 long year And from the beginning he called her his dear One morning so early by the break of the day He called to her window and to her did say Rise up, bonny Mary, and come you with me Such things they will happen, such things you will see He took her o'er mountain, he took her o'er dell She heard through the morning the sound of a bell All over the ocean, all over the sea Ye maidens of Dublin, take warning by me O sailor o sailor, come spare me my life But out of his pocket he took a penknife He stabbed her and ripped her and cut her in 3 Then he buried poor Mary beneath the green tree Now green grown the laurel and red grows the rose And a black bird will follow wherever he goes Crying Sailor O sailor where'er ye be The blood flows forever beneath the green tree |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: GUEST,.gaegoyle Date: 15 Oct 20 - 09:51 PM There are four "Halloween Songs" in grade three California 1956 and two in the same issue for grade four. Sincerely, Gargoyle |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Rumncoke Date: 15 Oct 20 - 08:11 PM There's 'The ghost with the squeaky wheel' I've only heard the Scottish version sung, where the wheelbarrow is desqueaked with whisky, but the same tale is told in Yorkshire where the hot fat and vinegar from some fish and chips does the trick. |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: GUEST Date: 15 Oct 20 - 05:51 AM Cruel Ship's Carpenter Molly Vaughan Two Sisters And my favourite: A lady stood at the churchyard door (ooh aah). Tradsinger |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Sarah the flute Date: 31 Oct 19 - 04:10 PM White dog of Yockenthwaite? sung by Artisan |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: GUEST,ottery Date: 30 Oct 19 - 06:20 AM Hmm, the rest of my post has been eaten. Serves me right for trying to write on my phone on a train. I was trying to mention The Huntsman, which I know from a Fay Hield album. Last verse very creepy. https://mainlynorfolk.info/folk/songs/thehuntsman.html |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: GUEST,ottery Date: 30 Oct 19 - 06:17 AM Interested to hear that there's a German cousin of The Suffolk Miracle (which I also know under the name The Holland Handkerchief). When I was a child, I had a collection of folk stories from the Fen Country called The Dead Moon. The Suffolk Miracle was one of them, and it terrified me so much it gave me nightmares. Still scares me, though I enjoy the song. In terms of spooky/supernatural ballads, I did. |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: rich-joy Date: 30 Oct 19 - 02:15 AM That was indeed lovely, Stewie!! Re the OP's request, I'm surprised no one has mentioned "Lyke Wake Dirge", which, a la Young Tradition, I recall being a popular one at this turn of the year - perhaps not "supernatural" but fitting the "chilling material befitting of the season" in the original request!! Cheers, R-J |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Stewie Date: 29 Oct 19 - 08:52 PM This was referred to above by Bonnie. Lovely rendition. The Holland Handkerchief --Stewie. |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Brian Peters Date: 29 Oct 19 - 05:08 PM "he stabbed her and ripped her and cut her in 3" Er, wasn't it her that did that to him? Unless we're talking about that rather nasty version of Lizzie Wan? |
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Subject: RE: British supernatural folk-songs...? From: Jim Carroll Date: 29 Oct 19 - 02:15 PM "he stabbed her and ripped her and cut her in 3" PRETTY POLLY (never heard it located in Dublin) Jim Carroll |
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