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Lyr Req/Add: The Rambling Comber

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Tune Req: Rambling Comber (9)


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The Rambling Comber


Garry Gillard 17 Sep 00 - 09:08 AM
Malcolm Douglas 17 Sep 00 - 01:38 PM
Garry Gillard 18 Sep 00 - 01:37 AM
Garry Gillard 19 Sep 00 - 09:46 AM
GUEST,Geoff Bibby 06 May 12 - 01:50 PM
GUEST,Don Wise 07 May 12 - 05:40 AM
GUEST 17 Oct 13 - 04:36 AM
Jim Dixon 24 Oct 13 - 04:13 PM
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Subject: The Rambling Comber
From: Garry Gillard
Date: 17 Sep 00 - 09:08 AM

I have just transcribed The Rambling Comber as sung by John Kirkpatrick on Brass Monkey's Sound and Rumour, but can't get all the words. Can anyone help?

You combers all both great and small
Come listen to my ditty
For it is ye and only ye
Regard my form with pity
For I can write ring-dance and fight
Indeed it's all my honour
My failing is oh I love strong beer
For I'm a rambling comber

Now it's on the tramp I'm forced to stamp
My shoes are all atatter
My hose unbound they trail the ground
And I seldom wears a garter
I have a coat scarce worth one groat
And I sadly want for another
But it's oh my dear how I love strong beer
Oh I'm a rambling comber

Now I have no watch and I have a patch
On both sides of my breeches
My hat is torn and my wig's all worn
And my health is all my riches
Would that I had some ... (?) lass
With coat all for to board her
With straps and hose oh I would hold those
I would hold them all ... (?)

Now a tailor's bill I seldom fill
And I never do tempt (?) measure (?)
I make no debt which doth me let
In the taking of my pleasure
Nor ever will till I grow old
When I must give it over
For then old age will me engage
For being a rambling comber

So pitcher boy I'll now employ
While I have cash or credit
I'll rant and roar and I'll call for the store
And I'll pay them when I have it
For this is always on my mind
Let me be drunk or sober
A bowl of punch my thirst to quench
And ... (?) October
For it's oh my dear how I love strong beer
Oh I'm a rambling comber


thanks, Garry


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Rambling Comber
From: Malcolm Douglas
Date: 17 Sep 00 - 01:38 PM

I don't know where Kirkpatrick got this song (and I don't have the record), but you might like to have a look at the broadside version at the Bodleian, here:  The Rambling Comber  printed between 1831 and 1837 by Wright of Moor Street, Birmingham.  Kirkpatrick's text is quite close to it, though there are of course a number of differences.  The broadside should help where you're not sure of bits.

Malcolm


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Rambling Comber
From: Garry Gillard
Date: 18 Sep 00 - 01:37 AM

That certainly throws a different light on the comber. I had him getting ready to board a wench, when all he wanted to do was put some embroidery on his clothes!

Many thanks Malcolm.

Garry

He's here.


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Subject: Lyr Add: THE RAMBLING COMBER
From: Garry Gillard
Date: 19 Sep 00 - 09:46 AM

THE RAMBLING COMBER

You combers all both great and small
Come listen to my ditty
For it is ye and only ye
Regard my form with pity
For I can write read dance and fight
Indeed it's all my honour
My failing is oh I love strong beer
For I'm a rambling comber

Now it's on the tramp I'm forced to stamp
My shoes are all atatter
My hose unbound they trail the ground
And I seldom wears a garter
I have a coat scarce worth one groat
And I sadly want for another
But it's oh my dear how I love strong beer
Oh I'm a rambling comber

Now I have no watch and I have a patch
On both sides of my breeches
My hat is torn and my wig's all worn
And my health is all my riches
Would that I had some giggling lass
My coat all for to border
With straps and bows oh I would hold those
I would hold them all in order

Now a tailor's bill I seldom fill
And I never do take measure
I make no debt which doth me let
In the taking of my pleasure
Nor ever will till I grow old
When I must give it over
For then old age will me engage
For being a rambling comber

So a pitcher boy I'll now employ
While I have cash or credit
I'll rant and roar and I'll call for the score
And I'll pay them when I have it
For this is always on my mind
Let me be drunk or sober
A bowl of punch my thirst to quench
And a quart of old October
For it's oh my dear how I love strong beer
I am a rambling comber

Sung by John Kirkpatrick on Brass Monkey's Sound and Rumour


Click to play

(MIDI from Malcolm)


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req/Add: The Rambling Comber
From: GUEST,Geoff Bibby
Date: 06 May 12 - 01:50 PM

The Rambling Comber is in Sharp's English County Songs


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req/Add: The Rambling Comber
From: GUEST,Don Wise
Date: 07 May 12 - 05:40 AM

Also in "A Touch on The Times, Songs of Social Change 1770-1914", Roy Palmer, Penguin Education, 1974. Page 200-201.

Don


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req/Add: The Rambling Comber
From: GUEST
Date: 17 Oct 13 - 04:36 AM

listen to adieu John Barleycorn, Willards leap recorded in 70s by them all on there with a few other great songs, also a few songs from there on youtube


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Subject: Lyr Add: THE RAMBLING COMBER (from Bodleian)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 24 Oct 13 - 04:13 PM

From the Bodleian collection, Harding B 28(188):

[I have boldfaced the words that are different from the above version. In some cases, these lines are an improvement; in other cases I think the above lines are better. If you plan to sing this, I recommend you compare the versions line by line carefully to determine what you want to sing.

It's fascinating to see how "gay gold lace" became "giggling lass."]


THE RAMBLING COMBER

You combers all both great and small,
Come and listen to my ditty,
For it is he and only he
Regardless of your
pity;
For I can write, read, drink and sing,
And that is
all my honour.
My failing is—I love strong beer
For I'm a rambling comber.

A dozen of wool through combs I'll pull
All in the neatest manner,
Both sleek and fine, like silk shall shine,
To obey my master's orders.
Then when I've done, then home I'll run,
And carry it to the owner.
I make no doubt but that he'll count
I am the rambling comber.

Then
on the tramp then I did scamp.
My shoes are in bad order.
My stockings down unto the ground,
And I seldom wear a garter.
My coat is scarcely worth a groat.
I seldom wear the other,
Because,
my dear, I love strong beer,
For I'm the rambling comber.        

My clothes are all worn quite thread bare.
I sadly want some others.
The tailor's bill I seldom fill,
For he never takes my measure.
He never shall till I grow old,
Then I must give it over,
Because, my dear, I love strong beer,
For I'm the rambling comber.


I have no watch, though I've a patch
On both sides of my breeches.
My hat is torn, my wig well worn.
My health is all my riches.
O had I but some gay gold lace
My clothes for to embroider!
'Tis fops and beaus that do wear
those.
I hold them all in scorn, sir.

A pitcher, boy, I will employ
While I have cash or credit.
I'll rant and roar, chalk on a score,
And pay them when I have it;
For it is always in my mind,
Let me be drunk or sober,
A bowl of punch is my delight
Or
a pot of good October.


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Mudcat time: 24 May 5:51 AM EDT

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