Women's Song Circle

Subject: Lyr Add: THREE FISHERS and STOWAWAY (Teresa Doyle)
From:
Date: 23 Sep 97 - 12:57 AM

I'll hide out here on the porch, he says to himself, and hum along to myself and listen in case there might be a song to pick up or a piece of cake gone astray. And they seem to be having a cheering glass in there too. What's the point of having a guys' treehouse, says he, if you can't do guy stuff like smoke cigars? Never smoke my cigars in anyone else's house anyway. And you can't get three guys up in a treehouse but a fight starts over something. (Grumble, sniff, looks at his knuckles and frowns)

Can't sing a nice love song like Dark-Eyed Molly, 'cause it's already in the database. Can't sing the song about the tricky mermaid, Maid On The Shore, 'cause that's there too. Wouldn't do to sing Wagoner's Lad, as they would think I'm not putting it into its historical context, even though its not in the database and Joan Baez sang it and she's not the treehouse type. (Mutter, grumble, snivel, I can smell that cake)

I'll sing Three Fishers. Always liked the way that the women went back to business so quickly after disaster. Reminds me of Gramma.

THREE FISHERS
(Lyrics by Charles Kingsley; music by Garnet Rogers; sung by Stan Rogers)

Three fishers went sailing out into the West
Out into the West as the sun went down
Each thought on the woman that loved him the best
And the children stood watching them out of the town

For men must work, and women must weep
For there's little to earn and many to keep
And the harbour bar be moaning,
And the harbour bar be moaning.

Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower
And they trimmed the lamps as the sun went down
And they looked at the squall and they looked at the shower,
And the night wrack came rolling in ragged and brown.

For men must work, and women must weep
Though storms be sudden and the waters run deep
And the harbour bar be moaning,
And the harbour bar be moaning.

Three corpses lay out on the shining sand
In the morning gleam as the sun went down
And the women were weeping and wringing their hands
For those who would never come back to the town.

For men must work and women must weep
For the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep
And goodbye to the bar and its moaning
And goodbye to the bar and its moaning.


But I'll hum Stowaway, by Teresa Doyle, says he, about Christy Campbell who learned survival skills from the Micmacs and helped those hard-hearted Scots -- but an Argyll shouldn't have expected better treatment.
Meanwhile I smell that infernal cake, says he, and watch them pour Baileys!

STOWAWAY

Last night a Selkirk ship made anchor
Down at Painter's Quay
A woman on the hillside
Turned her face towards the sea
And as she saw them load the cargo
At last she knew her mind
Somehow, this time, they mustn't leave her
Stranded here behind.

With little means to pay her passage
Nor money for supplies
No one here to stand beside her
And take her for his bride
Under veil of darkest cover
The night watch made a slip
And she crept into the cargo chamber
Deep within the ship.

CHORUS
Lonely stowaway
Homeless castaway
Stowaway, stowaway, stowaway
Here to stay, here to stay, here.

Cast aside when the ship made anchor
Weak but still alive
All alone in a bitter land
How could she survive
Late that fall a kindly native
Saw her camped alone
And for her first long Island winter
The wigwam was her home.

(Chorus)

The Micmac people shared with her
The food they had in store
The medicine man began to teach her
Healing lore
In the spring she returned to the Selkirk people
And in her healer's hand
She the key to their survival
The secrets of the land.

(Chorus again)


It's cold out here, and my cigar is going out. I'd best be back up to the treehouse. Whisky and fisticuffs have little enough to recommend them, but at least they keep you warm. Hmm. I hear a snatch of "She's Like The Swallow", and a claim that it is an Irish song. My CD "Another Time -- The Songs of Newfoundland" claims that "popular in Newfoundland, it is unknown in England where it originated." Glad to know that the Irish still remember it. Maybe I'll sneak back later and listen some more at the keyhole. . .

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From:
Date: 23 Sep 97 - 01:05 AM

Got it wrong, he says, as he climbs the ladder to the treehouse. Sun was never known to go down in the morning. Must be "In the morning gleam as the tide went down. . ."

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From: Shula
Date: 23 Sep 97 - 01:16 AM

Dear Tim,

Doncha be a'takin' on so! Soon's y've haid yer REAL smoke, (on the REAL front porch swang), c'mon inter th' parlor 'n' set a spell. Half th' fellers iz hyar a'ready; must be th' scent o' good cookin' 'n' th' sound o' warm laughter jes' a 'slitherin' up thet ol' tree. Got plenty more vittles; saved some Calvados jes' cause I th'ot it'd tak' th' chill off'n ya. (If'n ya don't a'ready know, thet's th' seerin' apple brandy thet REEL MEN drenk over t' Normandy, whar they keep some o' th' jen-oo-ine Frenchies!) C'mon, Tim, step lively, don't let in th' chill, Honey!

Thanks fer th' choons,

Shula

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From: Susan-Marie
Date: 23 Sep 97 - 11:46 AM

How about another sea song? This one's called Billy Taylor (it's in the DB) but it's really about his true love who: follows him out to sea disguised as a sailor, shoots Ol' Bill when she finds out he's cheated on her, and then is made second-in-command by the captain. I like to contrast this with one of those weepy songs about women who die of grief when their true loves sail away.

Join in on the chorus, and have some salt fish for lunch.

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From: Speed-1
Date: 23 Sep 97 - 03:33 PM

Shula - How about "They're rioting in Africa"( which is not it's title).

My contribution to our drinking is a drink called Bola. I think the actual recipe is in "The Joy of Cooking". It was the favorite drink of my late Great-Uncle Peter who always made a big fuss over having only fresh raspberries in it.

L'Chaim.

Speed

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From: Shula
Date: 23 Sep 97 - 03:50 PM

Speed:

Didn't I larn ya thet 'un? It's A.K.A. "The Merry Minuet." (It's in the DT, happily with both titles.)

Hy-dee-ho!

Shula

Subject: Lyr Add: THE BONNY SHEPHERD LAD
From: Jon W.
Date: 23 Sep 97 - 06:45 PM

Well I'm a feller - but I got a wife'n'seven daughters (the last two her idea not mine). 'sides most the parties I've been to the womenfolk's got the best conversations anyway. So here's my contribution:

The Bonny Shepherd Lad

There was a bonny shepherd lad, kept sheep on yonder hill
He fell in wi' Loughie's daughter and he vowed to hae his will

Chorus (after each verse):
Singin' heigh ho the mornin' dew, heigh ho the rose an rue
Follow me my bonny lass for I'll nae follow you

Noo he couked her on a grassy bank, the lassie fer tae please
But aye she sighed and sweetly cried but wouldnae pairt her knees

Noo it's easy easy wi' me, Sir, and ye shall hae yer will
Gin we lay down in the bothy at the back o' yonder hill

But she snecked and barred the bothy door, and merrily did shout
Now I'm a maiden here within and you a fool without

And my faither bought at great expense a grand high-steppin gray
But when he put her tae a fence she backed and backed away

And yer like a cock ma faither had, it crowed and waved it's camb
And ne'er a hen trod in the yard, I think yer just the same

And my mither bought a likely hen on last St. Martin's day
She clucked and clucked and clucked again but still she'd never lay

Oh, the de'il gang wi' ye lassie, gin the bridal bed ye see
Ye'll be coupit down and loupit on by a lesser man than me

This is from an album of Scottish songs by Celia Fisher and Artie Tresize (sp?) which also has Billy Taylor, mentioned above.

I just have to grin at the image of the outwitted shepherd lad exchanging insults with the bonny lass until finally he retreats, stroking his ego as he goes...

Subject: Lyr Add: WAGONER'S LAD
From:
Date: 23 Sep 97 - 11:56 PM

I'll have a piece of cake here yet.

Maybe if I sing Wagoner's Lad. Poor soul. Who knows why she courted the wagoner's lad, and why he left her with such curt and cruel words? How old or young might have they been? Twenty? Thirteen? How did they meet? Why did she place her love and hopes with such a creature as a wagoner's lad, rather than a full-blown wagoner? Did he get her pregnant and want to leave, or did he just decide he'd like to move on? The brevity of the song leaves much to the imagination. By all means, you with songbooks, ready to pounce, please add lyrics to enlighten us.

WAGONER'S LAD
(WAGGONER'S LAD, I suppose, if you are English)

Oh hard is the fortune of all womankind
She's always controlled; she's always confined
Controlled by her parents until she's a wife
A slave to her husband the rest of her life

I'm just a poor girl my fortune is sad
I've always been courted by the wagoner's lad
He treated me kindly by night and by day
And now with me lately he will not stay.

Your horses are hungry come feed them some hay
Come sit down beside me as long as you may
My horses aren't hungry they won't eat your hay
So fare you well darling I'll be on my way.

(Repeat first verse)

HTML line breaks added. --JoeClone, 22-Jan-02.

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From: Shula
Date: 24 Sep 97 - 12:11 AM

We've cake a'plenty stranger, glad to share. Thanks fer thet swate ol' melodie. Sump'in in yer voice sounds a mite famil-yer, -- ya warn't a' languishin' out on't porch last evenin,' was ya, son? C'mon inta th' light and heng yer burthen by th' door. Reckon we k'n squeeze ya in near th' fire 'n' I'll be more'n pleased t' fetch ya out a plate o' vittles 'n' all th' cake y' c'n swaller, with what t' wash it down!

Don't be shy, now; name's Shula, what's yore'n?

Subject: Lyr Add: MOTHERS, DAUGHTERS, WIVES
From: Ferrara
Date: 25 Sep 97 - 08:12 AM

Well. This certainly has the feel of a real-life party or song circle: If you get 'em talking and eating, they forget to sing! -- It's a tough choice between pleasures. Some friends have started just having soup and salad for dinner. That keeps guests from getting too stuffed and lazy to sing....

I'd like to sing a fine song called "Mothers, Daughters, Wives" by Holly Near. (?) Words are in Rise Up Singing. Here's the chorus:

Well, the first time it was fathers,
The last time it was sons
And in between your husbands
Marched away with drums and guns
But you never though to question,
You just went on with your lives,
'Cause all they taught you how to be was
Mothers, Daughters, Wives.

Subject: Lyr Add: THE PRODIGAL SON
From: Sheye
Date: 25 Sep 97 - 12:26 PM

Doubt it's my turn, but I've got a minute, so... This is a Michelle Shocked tune. I call her style "washboard music, tho' others might fancy a different description. My tummy's too full for eats right now...

THE PRODIGAL SON

What's to be done with a prodigal son?
Welcome him home with open arms.
Throw a big party, invite your friends,
Our boy's come back home.

When a girl goes home with the oats she's sown,
It's draw your shades and your shutters.
She's bringing such shame to the family name,
The return of the prodigal daughter.

Oh, cotton-eyed Joe.

I went to see a doctor and I almost died.
When I told my mamma, Lordy how she cried.
Me and my daddy were never too close,
But he was there when I needed him most.

Look, here comes a prodigal son!
Fetch him a tall drink of water,
But there's none in the cup 'cause he drank it all up,
Left for the prodigal daughter.

Singin' oh, cotton-eyed Joe.
Oh, cotton-eyed Joe...

Out in the cornfield I stubbed my toe.
Called for the doctor, cotton-eyed Joe,
I called for the doctor, cotton-eyed Joe.

Had it not 'ave been for the cotton-eyed Joe,
I'd 'a' been married a long time ago,
Oh I'd 'a' been married a long time ago.

Look, here comes a prodigal son!
Fetch him a tall drink of water,
But there's none in the cup 'cause he drank it all up,
Left for the prodigal daughter.

Singin' oh, cotton-eyed Joe...

HTML line breaks added. --JoeClone, 22-Jan-02.

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From: Sheye
Date: 25 Sep 97 - 12:28 PM

The name is "THE PRODICAL SON" -return- lyrics. Huff.

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From: RS
Date: 25 Sep 97 - 09:15 PM

Well this last song, about "bringing such shame to the family name" and "calling for the doctor" puts me in mind of the Tom Paxton song "She Sits on the Table" ... if you don't already know it, you can look up the words in the Database before we begin. I've only heard it once, performed live in concert by Tom himself, but it so moved me that I have never forgotten it. The imagery is so vivid, the emotions so intense.

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From: Nonie Rider
Date: 26 Sep 97 - 01:53 PM

And for modern retold lyrics, get hold of a Heather Alexander tape with "Black Jack's Lady." I can't post full lyrics, but it tells what happens AFTER the lady who ran off with the gypsy Black Jack Davey found herself abandoned the next day.

She rides after him, sword in hand; kills men who accost her; meets Davey in battle; and her spirit still rides through the hills dealing vengeance to unfaithful men.

~Young men, be true in the loving you do
Or else may the Gods have pity on you
If you meet with the Black Jack's Lady.~

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From:
Date: 27 Sep 97 - 01:59 AM

Is that like "Black Jack Davy", done by Steeleye Span? Lady leaves the squire for some hoodlum heath-rover, which make for a nice song but is something I suspect few ladies of the time did.

What does Cotton Eyed Joe have to do with Women's songs? The version I know is somewhat like the one posted, but politically incorrect these days so I won't post it. You may find it on Tommy Jarrell's LP from the 1970's "Sail Away Ladies", and I don't know if it has been released on CD.

Subject: Lyr Add: IF I WAS A BLACKBIRD
From:
Date: 27 Sep 97 - 02:11 AM

Here is a love song, this version from PEI but I suspect from the UK or Ireland originally:

IF I WAS A BLACKBIRD

I once knew a maiden, a maiden so rare
Fell in love with a sailor, a young sailor boy
He courted her truly by night and by day
Till at length that young sailor he sailed far away.

CHORUS:
And if I was a blackbird who could whistle and sing
I'd follow the ship that my true love sails on
And in the top rigging I'd there build my nest
To fly like a seagull to his lily white breast.

My love he is handsome in every degree
My parents despise him because he loves me
But let them despise him and say what they will
While there is life in my bosom I'll love that boy still.

(Chorus again)

And if I was a scholar who could handle a pen
A long loving letter unto him I'd send
I'd tell of my sorrows, my griefs and my woes
If I could but find him I'd crown him with gold

(Chorus again, last line repeated twice)

HTML line breaks added. --JoeClone, 22-Jan-02.

Subject: Lyr Add: I WISH I WAS A MAID AGAIN
From: Alice
Date: 27 Sep 97 - 12:30 PM

Speaking of Blackbird's, ...

I WISH I WAS A MAID AGAIN

Do you see the blackbird in yonder tree,
They say he's blind and he cannot see,
But never a girl as blind as me,
When I fell into bad company.

Well he courted me when I was thin,
He courted me and my love did win,
But now that the baby swells to my chin,
He passes my door and he won't come in.

Oh, I wish I wish, and I wish in vain,
I wish I was a maid again,
A maid again, I'll never be,
Til roses (or cherries or apples, take your pick) grow on an ivy tree.

repeat first verse

This is like another Irish song, "The Butcher Boy", which also has some lyrics in common with the English "There's a Tavern in the Town", "dig my grave both wide and deep, etc....carve a dove to signify I died of love." These lyrics are also in a version of "Careless Love", "now my apron strings won't pin, you pass my door and won't come in". Lots of variations of this. Alice in Montana

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From:
Date: 27 Sep 97 - 07:22 PM

Alice, this is similar to the song Marianne Faithful sang on the Chieftain's " The Long Black Veil". Her voice isn't what it was when she was a sweet young thing, before she fell into the hands of Mick Jagger, but it is entirely suitable for the song.

There are other verses, but I've lent that CD and don't have it at the moment.

Is Butcher Boy the one that begins:

In Jersey City, where once I dwelled, A butcher boy he loved me well, He courted me my life away, And with me now he will not stay.

The one I knew had similar lyrics to Baez's Wagoner's Lad, but was sung to the tune of Barbara Allen.

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From: Alice
Date: 27 Sep 97 - 08:32 PM

Tim, I first learned this from the Clancy Bros. and Tommy Makem recordings. They sing the first line, "In London City where I did dwell, a butcher boy I loved right well..." Their notes in one songbook are, "This tragic and beautiful ballad is a variant of the widely known "Gosport Tragedy". It has become very popular throughout Ireland, where everyone seems to have a soft spot for a nice sad love song."
I think I have a more recent Tommy Makem tape on which he sings, "In Dublin City..." I remember reading somewhere regarding this song that there is a variation of it in every language in Europe, being such a common tragic fate of young girls. Sadly, a universal theme. Alice

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From: Helen
Date: 27 Sep 97 - 08:46 PM

I'm totally devastated. I missed out on this song circle from it's beginning, and I think the only reason is that I'm not much of a singer and I thought that I wouldn't know any songs to suggest. Now that I've watched the video replay (in my mind) of this wonderful singing, talking, eating and laughing party I know exactly which two pieces to contribute.

But before I do, thanks for all the wonderful songs, but especially for the Piaf song "je ne regrette rien" (I regret nothing) which I have pretty much lived by since I was a teenager.

Also, Ferrara, the song "Mothers, daughters, wives" is sung by, and I'm sure was written by an Australian feminist singer/songwriter called Judy Small. Well worth checking out her stuff if you can find any of it. I've been to lots of her concerts and the aura of the crowd is huge after she starts singing.

So, to my two selections - to be listened to while I pass around some of my cherry, chocolate & walnut cake, my Great Aunt Charlotte's secret recipe - are:

Judy Small's song called "Bridget Evans", about the British women at Greenham Common protesting at a nuclear power site, and then an O'Carolan harp tune called Miss Fanny Poer, or more commonly called Fanny Power. I don't know the words, only the tune, and the reason I'm playing this on the harp is - you need to know that the word "fanny" doesn't mean "butt" in Australia, it means vagina, so whenever I say the name of this tune I say it as if it means "woman power!"

I don't remember all of the words to Bridget Evans, but I will do a search for them when I finally prise myself away from this party, and before I start writing the report which is due tomorrow :-(.

There's a woman in Great Britain, Bridget Evans is her name, and she's out on Greenham Common .......?

And they're fighting for their families, they're fighting for their friends and it won't stop no it won't stop till this nuclear madness ends, till this nuclear madness ends.

The tune of this is very powerful and sounds wonderful when everyone joins in with loud and harmonious voices.

Love to you all, and thanks heaps Helen

Subject: Lyr Add: THE BUTCHER BOY
From: Alice
Date: 27 Sep 97 - 09:01 PM

I thought this would be in the DT, but I just looked under courting and suicide as well as other searches and didn't find it. Here you are:

THE BUTCHER BOY

In London City, where I did dwell,
A butcher boy I loved right well.
He courted me my life away,
And now with me he will not stay.

I wish, I wish, I wish in vain,
I wish I was a maid again.
A maid again, I'll never be,
Til cherries grow on an ivy tree.

I wish my baby it was born,
And smiling on his daddy's knee,
And me, poor girl, to be dead and gone,
With the long, green grass growin' over me.

She went upstairs to go to bed,
And calling down to her mother said,
"Give me a chair til I sit down,
And a pen and ink til I write down."

At every word she dropped a tear,
And every line cried, " Willie, dear,
Oh, what a foolish girl was I,
To be led astray by a butcher boy."

He went upstairs and broke the door,
And found her hanging from a rope.
He took his knife and he cut her down,
And in her pocket these words he found.

"Oh, make my grave large, wide, and deep.
Put a marble stone at my head and feet.
And in the middle, a turtledove,
That the world my know I died of [for] love.

Alice in Montana

Subject: Lyr Add: MAGGIE DALY
From:
Date: 27 Sep 97 - 09:36 PM

Here is a women's ghost song, written by PEI folksinger, and writer, Teresa Doyle, based on a local ghost story. The ghost told Captain Daly he'd remarry and have other children, which he in time did.

MAGGIE DALY

The year was 1896, in a fishing town on the Eastern Shore
The pride of Beach Point died in childbirth, ne'er to see the son she bore,
Captain Daly, a proud sea captain, in sorrow stood by her bedside
In his arms he held the baby, caressed him with the tears he cried.

CHORUS
Maggie Daly, a Beach Point lady,
Maggie Daly died to bear her baby boy.

And all of Beach Point cried in sorrow, for that little lass they'd see no more
Who will now accept the burden to raise the tiny son she bore
Captain Daly, packed his sorrows, boarded ship and sailed away
In the arms of Maggie's aged mother the homeless little waif did lay

CHORUS
Maggie Daly, a Beach Point lady
Maggie Daly, who will tend your little son?

When Captain Daly came ashore to Maggie's home he did repair
Her mother's face was lined and haggard to tend the child meant sleep came rare
That night board ship, his sleep unsettled, his troubled mind would not keep still
Then by his bed stood Maggie Daly, and from her lips strange words did speak.

CHORUS
Maggie Daly, a Beach Point lady
Maggie Daly, what has brought you here to me?

Joseph Daly, listen to me, to what I say you must agree
A captain's place is not dry land, and a newborn needs a woman's hand,
Mother dear is much too old for a little child to keep and hold
It's with his mother he's got to be, I've come to set his spirit free.

CHORUS
Maggie Daly, a Beach Point lady,
Maggie Daly will come to set his spirit free.

Within a week that healthy baby, beside his mother's body lay,
Their spirits once again united, together now the two must stay,
Captain Daly some years later found himself another wife,
But in his dreams that apparition would stay with him throughout his life.

CHORUS
Maggie Daly, a Beach Point lady,
Maggie Daly, who died to bear her baby boy
Maggie Daly, a Beach Point lady,
Maggie Daly came to set his spirit free.

HTML line breaks added. --JoeClone, 22-Jan-02.

Subject: Lyr Add: BALLAD OF LUCY JORDAN (from M Faithful)
From: Sheye
Date: 29 Sep 97 - 11:25 AM

Speaking of Faithful, this is the tune that made me take a second hear to what she had to sing:

THE BALLAD OF LUCY JORDAN - recorded by Marianne Faithful

The morning sun touched lightly on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
In her white suburban bedroom in her white suburban town
As she lay there 'neath the covers dreaming of a thousand lovers
And world turned to orange and the room went spinning round.

At the age of thirty-seven she realized she'd never ride
Through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair
So she let the phone keep ringing as she sat there softly singing
Little nursery rhymes she'd memorized in her daddy's easy chair.

Her husband was off to work and the kids were off to school
And there were oh-so-many ways for her to spend day
She could clean the house for hours or rearrange the flowers
Or run naked through the shady streets screaming all the way.

At the age of thirty-seven she realized she'd never ride
Through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair
So she let the phone keep ringing as she sat there softly singing
Little nursery rhymes she'd memorized in her daddy's easy chair.

The evening sun touched gently on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
From the rooftop where she climbed when all the laughter grew too loud
And she bowed and curtsied to the man who reached and offered her his hand
And led her down to the long white car that waited past the crowd.

At the age of thirty-seven she knew she'd found forever
As she rode along through Paris with the warm wind in her hair.

I've typed it in from memory. Feel free to correct.

As always,

Sheye

HTML line breaks added. --JoeClone, 22-Jan-02.

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From: Alice
Date: 30 Sep 97 - 01:39 AM

Re: "The Butcher Boy" and other songs with common lyrics, Sylvia, of Ian & Sylvia, sang "Every Night When the Sun Goes In" on one of their recordings (Four Strong Winds) with the lyrics "I wish to the Lord my babe was born and sittin' on, sittin' on his daddy's knee, and me poor girl I wish I was dead and gone, with the green grass growin' over me." A great blues performance. Alice in Montana

Subject: Lyr Add: OUTLANDISH KNIGHT (Frankie Armstrong)
From: Moira Cameron
Date: 30 Sep 97 - 01:26 PM

Although I've never received criticism myself for singing traditional songs, I know several women musicians who have been told that the traditional songs they sing are no longer politically correct. The argument is that the old songs often don't portray women in a positive light. I have never had any trouble finding traditional songs that can be used in a feminist context. My favourite is The Outlandish Knight. Often when I sing this one, I receive cheers when the song's climax is reached.

OUTLANDISH KNIGHT
(Adapted from Frankie Armstrong's version)

An Outlandish knight from the northlands came
And he came a-courting me
And he promised he'd take me all to the northern lands
And there he would marry me.

"Go fetch some of your father's gold
And some of your mother's fee
And two of the best horses in the stable
Where there stands thirty and three."

Then he's mounted on the milk white steed
And she on the dappled gray
And they rode till they came to the salt waterside
An hour before the day.

"Light off, light off your steed," he said
"And deliver it unto me
For six pretty maidens I have drownded here
And you the seventh will be.

And take off, take off your silken clothes
And deliver them unto me
For they are too fine, and too rich a gear
To rot with you under the sea."

"Well if I must take off my silken clothes,
Then--oh--turn your face from me
For it is not fitting for such a ruffian
A naked woman to see."

So he turned his face away from her,
To view the leaves so green,
And she catched him by his middle so small
And she tumbled him into the sea.

Well, he swam high and he swam low
Till he came unto the side,
Saying, "Reach down your hand my fair pretty maid,
And I will make you my bride."

"Oh lie there, lie there you false-hearted man
Lie there instead of me
If six pretty maidens thou have drownded here--
Well the seventh one has drownded thee!"

HTML line breaks added. --JoeClone, 22-Jan-02.

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From:
Date: 30 Sep 97 - 07:03 PM

Chris Foster sings a version of this song, which he calls "The False Knight". His is longer, and verses about a cat and a parrot named Polly are included. I think that the parrot warns her, and the parrot is promised a nice cage with a door of ivory for his services. (Well done, well done, my pretty Polly). It's on Sting of The Tale. I will try to transcribe it if I can make out his accent, as the tape has no lyrics with it. Some of the verses are as posted above.

The song bears no relation to The False Knight On The Road, which is a song about a little boy or girl confounding a riddling knight.

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From: Joe Offer
Date: 30 Sep 97 - 09:03 PM

Look in the database for a song called "Lady Isobel and the Elf Knight." It's almost the same song. It's fascinating to see how many variations there are.
-Joe offer-

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From:
Date: 30 Sep 97 - 09:31 PM

Foster's version has elements of both the one mention by Joe and the one posted by Moira.

I shall transcribe and post it, once someone tells me how to get the lines to stay together in nice neat stanzas and not run all over the place as my posts end up doing.

As I say, it's good to have lots of variations, so then we can pick and choose between the verses we like.

Subject: Lyr Add: THE FOGGY DEW
From: Alice
Date: 05 Oct 97 - 10:55 PM

I have an old songbook called "The Home and Community Song Book", ©1931, sponsored by Better Homes In America Inc, and National Recreation Association. In it is written, "The publications in this series comprise books of music for use in private and public schools, in homes, and for large and small groups of people who come together to sing."... the purpose of "Better Homes in America, Inc., Honorary Chairman, Herber Hoover, To put knowledge of high standards of house building, home furnishing and home life within the reach of all citizens. To encourage general study of the housing problem and problems of family life. To promote the improvement of homes and to extend knowledge of the ways and means of making home life more attractive and happier through the development of home play, home art, home reading, and home music." The purpose of the National Recreation Association was "That every child in America have a chance to play. That everybody in America, young or old, shall have an opportunity to find the best and most satisfying use of leisure time."

In this book I found two songs called "The Foggy Dew", which are completely different in lyrics and tunes than the two Foggy Dew songs that we usually hear. One is English and one is Irish.

THE FOGGY DEW
English

One night as I lay in my bed
As I lay fast asleep,
My pretty love seemed to come to my head
And bitterly she did weep.
She wrung her hands and she tore her hair,
Crying, asking what shall I do?
For they say the love that men-folk bear
Dries off like the foggy dew, dew dew,
More swift than the foggy dew.

Watch on, dear love, the lee long night,
And the morning will be here.
Then rise, pretty maid, and don't be afraid,
Men love, be it mist or clear.
So dry your eyes and kiss me, dear,
As once you used to do,
For the only cold that you must fear,
Is the chill of the foggy dew, dew, dew,
Is the chill of the foggy dew.

She dried her eyes, and the gay sun shone,
And the world grew green in the blue,
For the last of the foggy dew was gone
The last of the foggy dew.
But love was there in the mist and shine,
The old love, wonder, and new.
O fie! Pretty maid, to let eyes like thine
Be dimmed by the foggy dew, dew, dew,
By fear of the foggy dew.


THE FOGGY DEW
Alfred Perceval Graves (Irish)

    Oh! a wan cloud was drawn
    O'er the dim, weeping dawn,
As to Shannon's side I returned at last;
    And the heart in my breast
    For the girl I loved best
Was beating—ah beating, how loud and fast!
    While the doubts and the fears
    Of the long, aching years
Seemed mingling their voices with the moaning flood;
    Till full in my path,
    Like a wild water-wraith,
My true love's shadow lamenting stood.

    But the sudden sun kissed
    The cold, cruel mist
Into dancing showers of diamond dew;
    The dark flowing stream
    Laughed back to his beam,
And the lark soared singing aloft in the blue;
    While no phantom of night,
    But a form of delight
Ran with arms outspread to her darling boy:
    And the girl I love best
    On my wild, throbbing breast
Hid her thousand treasures, with a cry of joy.


Is this thread getting too long?
Alice in Montana

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From: Nonie Rider
Date: 07 Oct 97 - 05:54 PM

Yeah. Let's do a Women's Song Circle II. Will start one if there isn't one already.

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From: Alice
Date: 03 Jun 99 - 02:21 PM

refresh... just for the fun of it

Subject: RE: Women's Song Circle
From: Helen
Date: 01 Jul 00 - 09:05 PM

Refresh again, in the light of this discussion:

Women's HearMe?

http://www.mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=22846&messages=28

Helen