by Mark Walker
Introduced and performed by Anita Best

“Tickle Cove Pond” was written by Mark Walker, a fisherman and songwriter who lived in Tickle Cove, Bonavista Bay in Newfoundland, Canada during the late 19th century. This song is prized locally for the beauty and wit of the lyrics, which turn a mundane event into an act of heroism. In addition, this song has been recorded by a St. John’s Traditional Folk group called Connemara, Anita Best and Sandy Morris on a CD entitled Some Songs, and by classical singer Meredith Hall. It was also recorded by the Vermont-based ensemble Nightingale.

Tickle Cove Pond music
Click here to download a PDF of the sheet music.

Lyrics:

In cuttin’ and haulin’ in frost and in snow
We’re up against troubles that few people know.
And only by patience with courage and grit
And eatin’ plain food can we keep ourselves fit.
The hard and the easy we take as it comes.
And when ponds freeze over we shorten our runs.
To hurry my hauling – the Spring coming on,
Near lost me my mare on Tickle Cove Pond.

I knew that the ice became weaker each day,
But still took the risk and kept hauling away.
One evening in April, bound home with a load,
The mare showed some halting against the ice road
And knew more than I did, as matters turned out,
And lucky for me had I joined in her doubt.
She turned ’round her head, and with tears in her eyes,
As if she were saying: “You’re risking our lives.”

All this I ignored with a whip-handle blow,
For man is too stupid dumb creatures to know.
The very next minute the pond gave a sigh,
And down to our necks went poor Kitty and I.
For if I had taken wise Kitty’s advice,
I never would take the short cut on the ice.
“Poor creature she’s dead and poor creature she’s gone;
I’ll never get my wood off the Tickle Cove Pond.”

I raised an alarm you could hear for a mile.
And neighbours turned up in a very short while.
You can always rely on the Oldfords and Whites
To render assistance in all your bad plights.
To help a poor neighbour is part of their lives;
The same I can say of their children and wives.
When the bowline was fastened around the mare’s breast
William White for a shanty song made a request.
There was no time for thinking, no time for delay.
So straight from my head came this song right away:

“Lay hold William Oldford, lay hold William White,
Lay hold of the cordage and pull all your might,
Lay hold of the bowline and pull all you can,
And give me a lift with poor Kit on the pond.”
Lay hold William Oldford, lay hold William White.
Lay hold of the hawser and pull all your might.
Lay hold to the bowline and pull all you can.”
And with that we brought Kit out of Tickle Cove Pond.

Anita Best was born in the country of Newfoundland, which became a part of Canada the following year. She was raised in a fishing family that was resettled in the mid 1960s by a government centralization program. She spent her teenage years in the capital, St. John’s. Initially, she became a high-school French teacher, but followed parallel careers as a singer, folklorist, archivist, broadcaster, and Parks Canada guide. She performs at festivals, house concerts, and other events all over the United States and Canada, with an occasional foray to the UK. She performs unaccompanied as well as with guitarist Sandy Morris, and also with musical partner Pamela Morgan. She has recorded several CDs of both traditional and contemporary Newfoundland-based songs.

Traditional
Introduced by Judy Cook
Performed by Frank Proffitt

I love this traditional song from the southern Appalachians for its simplicity, accessibility, and poignancy. It’s easy to keep it going by adding either the first or third verse as a chorus between every verse, or by adding any number of “zipper verses” that might suit the situation. We have the song sung by Frank Proffitt on the album Frank Proffitt of Reese, NC (1962), Folk Legacy Album #1. The entire Folk Legacy catalog is now available on the Smithsonian Folkways label.

I'm Going Back to North Carolina
Click here to download a PDF of the sheet music.

Lyrics:

I’m going back to North Carolina
I’m going back to North Carolina
I’m going back to North Carolina
And I never expect to see you any more

How can I ever keep from crying
How can I ever keep from crying
How can I ever keep from crying
When I never expect to see you any more

My home’s across the Blue Ridge Mountain
My home’s across the Blue Ridge Mountain
My home’s across the Blue Ridge Mountain
And I never expect to see you any more

I’m gonna leave here Monday morning
I’m gonna leave here Monday morning
I’m gonna leave here Monday morning
And I never expect to see you any more

I’m a-going back to North Carolina
I’m a-going back to North Carolina
I’m a-going back to North Carolina
I never expect to see you any more

Judy Cook performs each year throughout the United States and Britain with concerts of folk song and multi-media historically themed programs. Judy has one book and nine CDs of traditional Anglo-American, 19th Century, and occasionally contemporary songs. The two most recent, Light and Shade and Well Met: Songs of the Sea, were released in 2018. Her first book, A Quiet Corner of the War, presents the Civil War letters of her great-great grandparents with extensive notes and research; it is published by the University of Wisconsin Press (Fall 2013). Three of her many multi-media programs feature letters from that book. She coproduces a weekly broadcast folk radio program, “Glad4Trad,” of which you can hear the most recent sample on her website. Learn more about Judy at her website.

Introduced by Margaret Walters
performed by Margaret Walters, Don Brian, and Robert Boddington

Words: Francis MacNamara, aka Frank the Poet, written approx. 1839

Tune: adapted by Margaret Walters from “Norwich Gaol” from Peter Bellamy’s 1977 ballad opera, The Transports

Francis MacNamara was a convict transported to Australia in 1832 on the ship Eliza. An incorrigible rogue, he served more than 17 years punishment. “For the Company Underground” is Frank’s letter to J. Crosdale, Esq., who was the superintendent of the Australia Company’s Colliery Establishment in Newcastle (north of Sydney), outlining the precise conditions under which he would be prepared to work underground.

MacNamara was known as Frank the Poet, renowned throughout the colonies for his extemporaneous verse. His poems include “Moreton Bay,” “The Cyprus Brig,” and “A Convict’s Tour of Hell.”

The lyrics here differ slightly from the text that appears in the Trimingham/Cameron MSS in the Mitchell Library, NSW.

Lyrics:

When Christ from Heaven comes down straightway His Father’s laws to expound
Macnamara shall work that day for the Company underground

When the man in the moon to Moreton Bay is sent in shackles bound
Macnamara shall work that day for the Company underground

When the Cape of Good Hope to Twofold Bay comes for the change of a pound
Macnamara shall work that day for the Company underground

When cows in lieu of milk yield tea, and all lost treasures are found
Macnamara shall work that day for the Company underground

When the Australian Co.’s heaviest dray is drawn eighty miles by a hound
Macnamara shall work that day for the Company underground

When a frog, a caterpillar and flea shall circle the globe all round
Macnamara shall work that day for the Company underground

When turkeycocks on Jews harps play and mountains dance at the sound
Macnamara shall work that day for the Company underground

When milestones go to church to pray and whales are put in the Pound
Macnamara shall work that day for the Company underground

When thieves ever robbing on the King’s highway for their sanctity are renowned
Macnamara shall work that day for the Company underground

When convicts’ chains are broke at last and the nine-tail cat is unwound*
Macnamara shall work that day for the Company underground

When Christmas falls on the 1st of May and O’Connell’s King of England crown’d
Macnamara shall work that day for the Company underground

When the quick and the dead in line are arrayed, summoned at the trumpet’s sound
Even then, damn me if I’d work a day for the Company underground – or overground!

* John Warner wrote the line: “When convicts’ chains are broke at last …”, as an extra line was required to fit the pattern of the tune.

Margaret Walters (b.1943) lives in Sydney, NSW. She fell in love with traditional song and harmony as a teenager, but didn’t start singing herself until 1976, when she was exposed to numerous unaccompanied singers at the folk clubs in East Sussex. She made several more visits to the UK and developed a large repertoire of traditional songs and contemporary songs inspired by the tradition. For ten years, she collaborated in a duo with renowned songwriter John Warner, and she currently sings in various combinations, most frequently with The Roaring Forties – who made a brief visit to the US east coast in 2017. She’s too busy procrastinating to update her website, but can be contacted via email.

Introduced by Marge Steiner

The song is found in Northern Ireland and in the Canadian Maritimes.
Roud number: 3025
The singer is Frank Murphy in Derryard, Roslea.
Recorded on 08/21/1978

I like to introduce people to source singers when I’m giving talks and such, and I was taken with Frank Murphy’s modal rendition. Please note that, as with many source singers, Frank’s tune varies from verse to verse. We have transcribed the first verse here, but urge people to listen carefully to the entire song.

Score for The Maid of Sweet Gurteen
Click on the image for a downloadable PDF

Lyrics:

Come all you gentle muses, combine and lend an ear
Till I relate the praises of a comely lady fair.
The curls of her yellow locks have stole away my heart
And death I’m sure must be the cure if her and I do part

The praises of this lovely maid I’m going to unfold
Her hair hangs o’er her shoulders like lovely links of gold
With a carriage neat and limbs complete she has fractured quite my brain
Her skin more fairer than the swan that swims on the purling stream

It was my cruel father, it was he that caused my woe
He locked her in a close room and he would not let her go
Her windows I did fairly watch, thinking she might be seen
In hopes to get another sight at the maid of sweet Gurteen

My father he came to me and unto me did say
Oh son, dear son, be advised by one, don’t throw yourself away
To marry a poor servant girl whose parents are so mean
So stay at home and do not roam but along with me remain

Oh father dearest father, do not part me from my dear
I will not part my darling for ten thousand pounds a year
Was I possessed of William’s crown, it’s her I’d make my queen
In high renown we’d wear the crown with the maid of sweet Gurteen.

My father in a passion flew and unto me did say
If that’s the case within this place, no longer she shall stay
Mark what I say from this very day, you ne’er shall see her face
For I’ll send your darling far away unto some foreign place

In two or three days after a horse he did prepare
And he sent my darling far away to a place I know not where
I never view my darling’s walk where oftentimes she had been
But here in pain I shall remain for the maid of sweet Gurteen

It’s to conclude and make an end my pen I’ll take in hand
John O’Brien is my name and flowery is my land
My days were spent in merriment since my darling I first seen
And her abode lies near the road in a place they call Gurteen

Marge Steiner is a folklorist who has done extensive folksong fieldwork in County Fermanagh, Northern Ireland, and in Miramichi, New Brunswick, Canada.

Introduced by Bob Bovee

“Starving to Death on a Government Claim,” also known as Lane or Greer County Bachelor, is a traditional song from the late 19th century. It’s often sung in 6/8 time to the tune of “The Irish Washerwoman,” or sometimes in 3/4. I learned it from a 78 rpm record by Ed Crain with considerable changes to the tune, words and tempo. Growing up in Nebraska, I can identify with the life and landscape of this song, the hardships of a difficult existence.

Score for Starvin' to Death on a Government Claim
Click here for a downloadable PDF

Lyrics:

My name it is Perkin, an old bachelor I am
You’ll find me out west on an elegant plan
You’ll find me out west in the county of fame
Starving to death on a government claim

Chorus:
Hurrah for Greer County, the land of the free
The home of the bedbug, grasshopper and flea
I’ll sing of its praises, I’ll tell of its fame
While starving to death on a government claim

My clothes are all ragged, my language is rough
My bread is corn dodger, my goodness how tough
Nothing to eat and nothing to wear
From nothing to nothing is the Greer County fare

My house it is built of the national soil
The walls are erected according to Hoyle
The roof has no pitch, but is level and plain
And you always get wet if it happens to rain

How happy am I when I go to bed
A rattlesnake rattles a tune at my head
A gay little centipede free from all care
Creeps out of my pillow and into my ear

Come all you claim-holders take warning by me
Don’t live with the bedbug, grasshopper and flea
I’ll travel east, I’ll marry me a wife
And quit these corndodgers the rest of my life.

Bob Bovee is a Nebraska native whose family sang and played the old-time songs. Many of the western and railroad songs he does were learned from his grandmother and uncle. Since 1971, he has been a full-time touring musician, plays banjo, guitar, harmonica, and autoharp, sings and yodels.

Introduced by William Pint and Felicia Dale

Annan Water is a superb example of the folk process in action.

In the late 1960’s English singer Nic Jones encountered lyrics in Child’s English and Scottish Popular Ballads, that had been taken from yet another book, Scott’s Minstrelsy of the Scottish Borders. Jones modified the words, turned the final stanza into a chorus, borrowed a melody from another traditional English song, and processed it all into a brand new ‘traditional’ song. Annan Water describes the tragedy of a man’s struggle to reach his true love, riding his horse to exhaustion at a swollen river’s banks and finally attempting and failing to swim the raging water. The singer, admonishing the treacherous river, vows to build a bridge guaranteeing that never again will it divide true lovers.

Listen to a great version sung by the Irish vocal trio, The Voice Squad:

Annan Waters
Click here for a downloadable PDF

Lyrics:

Oh Annan Water’s wondrous deep, and my love Annie is wondrous bonny
I loath that she should wet her feet, because I love her best of any
Go saddle for me the bonny grey mare, go saddle her soon and make her ready,
For I must cross that stream tonight or never more I’ll see my lady.
And woe betide you Annan water, by night you are a gloomy river,
And over you I’ll build a bridge, that never more true love may sever.

And he has ridden o’er field and fen, o’er moor and moss and many a mire
His spurs of steel were sore to bite, sparks from the mare’s hooves flew like fire
The mare flew on o’er moor and moss and when she reached the Annan Water
She couldn’t have ridden a furlong more, had a thousand whips been laid upon her.
And woe betide you Annan water, by night you are a gloomy river,
And over you I’ll build a bridge, that never more true love may sever.

Oh, boatman come, put-off your boat; put-off your boat for gold and money,
For I must cross that stream tonight, or never more I’ll see my lady.
The sides are steep, the waters deep, from bank to brae the water’s pouring
And the bonny grey mare she sweats for fear, she stands to hear the waters roaring.
And woe betide you Annan water, by night you are a gloomy river,
And over you I’ll build a bridge, that never more true love may sever.

And he has tried to swim that stream, and he swam on both strong and steady
But the river was wide and strength did fail, and never more he’ll see his lady.
Oh woe betide the willow wand, and woe betide the bush and briar,
For they broke beneath her true love’s hand, when strength did fail and limbs did tire.
And woe betide you Annan water, by night you are a gloomy river,
And over you I’ll build a bridge, that never more true love may sever.

William Pint and partner Felicia Dale share a love for all traditional music, but specialize in nautically themed songs. They adapt traditional maritime songs from the Age of Sail, modifying and arranging them with guitar, hurdy-gurdy, octave mandolin, fiddle and whistles to create a modern sound with a traditional maritime spirit.

Introduced by Ed Miller

It’s an old song, probably 19th century, from the song-rich northeast lowlands of Scotland; one of many songs relating to the harvest time of late summer. Harvest time in the old agricultural system of Lowland Scotland was one of the few times when men and women worked together out-of-doors. They would form “gangs” where the men would do the shearing (cutting by scythe or “heuk”) and the women the picking-up and “stookin” before the crop was taken off for threshing. The 2nd verse may be romantic; but the other 3 are not.

In the first verse, the young man says “don’t even come to the harvest, you’re so pregnant you can’t bend over to pick it up,” and the 3rd and 4th verses tell her to forget dressing nicely and making herself look good as life from now on will be one of drudgery at home with the children…typical Scottish fare!

There are many versions of this song… some have verses where the girl complains of being taken advantage of and then abandoned by the young man; but this is a more benign version.

Listen to Ed Miller sing the tune:

Listen to Scots Women sing the tune:

Score of The Shearin's No For You
Click on the image for a downloadable PDF

Lyrics:

Oh the shearin’s no for you ma bonnie lassie O
Oh the shearin’s no for you ma bonnie lassie O
Oh the shearin’s no for you
For yer back it winna bow
And yer belly’s growin fu’ ma bonnie lassie O

Dae ye mind the banks o’ Ayr ma bonnie lassie O
Dae ye mind the banks o’ Ayr ma bonnie lassie O
Dae ye mind the banks o’ Ayr
Where my heart ye did ensnare
And yer love ye did declare ma bonnie lassie O.

Tak the ribbons frae yer hair ma bonnie lassie O
Tak the ribbons frae yer hair ma bonnie lassie O
Tak the ribbons frae yer hair
And let doon yer ringlets fair
For ye’ve nocht noo but dool an care ma bonnie lassie O

Tak the buckles frae yer shoon ma bonnie lassie O
Tak the buckles frae yer shoon ma bonnie lassie O
Tak the buckles frae yer shoon
For ye’ve wed an unco loon
An yer dancin days are done ma bonnie lassie O

Repeat Verse 1

Glossary:

shearin’ – harvest
growin’ fu’ – swelling full
winna – won’t
frae – from
nocht noo – nothing now
dool – sadness
shoon – shoes
unco loon – weird young man

Originally from Edinburgh, Ed Miller has made his home in Austin, TX, for over 40 years. He is a singer, folklorist, geographer, teacher, tour guide (Folksong Tours of Scotland), and radio host (“Across the Pond” on sunradio.com). He performs at festivals, house concerts, Highland Games and other events all over the United States and teaches each year at The Swannanoa Gathering in NC and Spanish Peaks Festival in CO. He has recorded 10 CDs of both traditional and contemporary Scots songs.

Introduced by Sparky and Rhonda Rucker

“Shady Grove” is a traditional Southern Appalachian song. Like many mountain songs that blend Celtic and African influences, it is most often played in a modal tuning. Its origins are murky. The Frank C. Brown Collection of North Carolina Folklore, Volume III, credits it as a “Negro song.” In the Journal of American Folklore, the song was collected in both Kentucky and Tennessee. In one of her books, Jean Ritchie reminisced about hearing it as a fiddle tune when she was growing up in eastern Kentucky. We have recorded this song twice — once on our CD, Treasures & Tears, and again on Dear Jean, the Jean Richie tribute album.

See video from our live performance for a Jean Ritchie tribute at KY Music Weekend on July 25, 2015:

Rhonda says, “Doing the transcription was a challenge because Sparky tends to improvise so much, so each verse and chorus is a little different. Therefore, I went with the melody he used for the first verse and chorus.”

Shady Grove sheet music
Click here for a downloadable PDF

Lyrics:

(guitar is tuned to “D” Model [D A D G B D] capo at 2nd fret making it “E” Model)

Cheeks as red as the blooming rose
Eyes of the deepest brown
You are the darling of my heart
Stay ‘till the sun goes down

Refrain:
Shady Grove my little love
Shady Grove my darling
Shady Grove my little love
I’m going back to Harlan

When I was a little boy
I used to want a knife
Now I am a big strong man
All I want is a wife

Refrain:
Shady Grove, my true love
Shady Grove I know
Shady Grove, my true love
I’m bound for the Shady Grove

The last time I saw Shady Grove
She was standing in the door
Shoes and stockings in her hand
And her little bare feet on the floor

Wish I had a horse so fine
Corn to feed him on
Wish I had little Shady Grove
To feed him when I’m gone

Refrain:
Shady Grove, my true love
Shady grove I know
Shady Grove, my true love
I’m bound for the Shady Grove

Refrain:
Shady Grove my little love
Shady Grove my darling
Shady Grove my little love
I’m going back to Harlan

Wish I had little Shady Grove
I’d put her on the shelf
And every time she smiled at me
I’d climb up there myself

Eleven miles of mountain road
Fifteen miles of sand
If ever you see me back again
Gonna be a married man

Refrain:
Shady Grove, my true love
Shady Grove my darling
Shady Grove, my true love
I’m going back to Harlan

Refrain:
Shady Grove, my true love
Shady grove I know
Shady Grove, my true love
I’m bound for the Shady Grove

Refrain:
Shady Grove, my true love
Shady Grove I say
Gonna marry you someday

Refrain:
Shady Grove, my true love
Shady Grove I say
Shady Grove, my true love
Hey, don’t you wait ‘till the Judgment Day!

Sparky and Rhonda Rucker‘s music includes old-time blues, Appalachian music, slave songs, and spirituals as well as originals, and they accompany themselves with fingerstyle picking and bottleneck blues guitar, old-time banjo, blues harmonica, piano, spoons, and bones. Over fifty years of performing, Sparky and Rhonda have entertained at the Kennedy Center and the Smithsonian Folklife Festival as well as appeared on NPR’s On Point, Prairie Home Companion, and Mountain Stage. Their recording, Treasures & Tears, was nominated for a W.C. Handy Award, and their music is also included on the Grammy-nominated anthology, Singing Through the Hard Times. The duo’s most recent recording is Down by the Riverside.

Introduced by Keith Kendrick

This wonderful version of “Bedlam” was collected by Cecil Sharp from Jack Barnard in Bridgewater 1906. I found it in Book 2 of The Crystal Spring: English Folk Songs, and I’ve been singing it since the 1970s.

Having seemingly been cruelly cheated out of her loved one (who, incidentally must have been either a thoroughly nasty piece of work or simply a complete and utter prat!) by jealous or unthinking friends, this poor girl, suffering probably only from a bout of melancholy, finds herself inappropriately dumped in a mental institution mistakenly diagnosed as slightly loopy, an all too common occurrence in days gone by – and not totally unheard of in more recent times either!

Listen to Keith and Sylvia Needham sing the tune:

Sheet music for Bedlam
Click here for a downloadable PDF

Lyrics:

Abroad as I was walking one morning in the spring
I met a maid in Bedlam so sweetly did a-sing.
Her chain she rattled with her hands and thus did smile and say:
“I love my love because I know he first loved me.”

“My love he was sent from me by friends who were unkind,
They sent him far beyond the sea and that torments my mind.
And though I suffer for his sake contented will I be
For I love my love because I know he first loved me.”

“My love will not come near me to hear the moan I make
And neither would he pity me if my poor heart should break
And though I suffer for his sake contented will I be
For I love my love because I know he first loved me.”

“Oh Johnny, lovely Johnny, are you my love or no?”
“Ah Nancy, dearest Nancy, I’ve proved your overthrow.”
“And though I suffered for his sake contented will I be
For I love my love because I know he first loved me.
For I love my love because I know he first loved me.”

Vocal and instrumental music, social and ceremonial dance have all played a role in Keith Kendrick’s career, which has spanned over five decades. Together with Sylvia Needham, he performs extensively all over the UK, Europe and beyond. They sing a capella or accompany themselves and play lively dance tunes on three different systems of concertina.

Introduced by Joel Mabus

For the CDSS Song of the Month, I offer “The Bonny Bunch of Roses,” as performed on Irish television in 1965 by a young Colm Walsh of County Clare. Here is the video of his performance.

I have transcribed his melody and also the lyric he uses, which is not what is posted beneath the video. I have never heard this exact version anywhere else — there are many, many variants. The song is in the “Bonaparte Canon,” as it were. In this ballad, the young out-of-favor Napoleon II is speaking with his mother, Archduchess Marie Louise, after daddy is dead and buried at St. Helena. He tells he will do what his father failed to do — give her the “bonny bunch of roses” — being England, Ireland and Scotland. And she says, “Don’t try it, kid!”

A version of this tune is sometimes called “Bonaparte’s Retreat” (one of the several) and exists as an Appalachian fiddle & banjo tune called “The Bunch of Roses.”

The Bonny Bunch of Roses
Click here for a downloadable PDF

Lyrics:

By the borders of the ocean,
One pleasant morning in the month of June,
To hear those warlike songsters
Their cheerful notes did sweetly tune,
I o’erheard a female talkin’
Who seemed to be in grief and woe,
Conversing with Napoleon
Concerning the bonny Bunch of Roses, O.

Up stepped brave young Bonaparte,
And took his mother by the hand,
Sayin’ “Mother dear have patience,
Until I am able to command;
When I’ll raise a mighty army,
And through tremendous dangers I will go,
And in spite of all the universe,
I’ll win for you the bonny Bunch of Roses, O.”

Oh, son, don’t speak so venturesome;
For England is the heart of oak;
And Ireland, England and Scotland, ,
Their unity was never broke.
O think upon thy father,
In the Isle Saint Helena his body lies low,
And you must follow after
So beware of the bonny Bunch of Roses, O.

He took three hundred thousand men
And kings likewise to bear his train;
He was so well provided for
That he could sweep this old world for gain.
Until he came to Moscow,
He was overpower’d by the sleet and the snow;
And Moscow being a-blazing
Twas there he lost the bonny Bunch of Roses, O.

Joel Mabus is a songwriter, folksinger, instrumentalist and music teacher living in Kalamazoo, Michigan. By genealogical records he is the scion of William Brewster of Scrooby, England & Plymouth, Massachusetts. He is also the scion of thousands of anonymous potato farmers and barrel makers from the Germanic lowlands. Joel has recorded 27 albums since 1978; his latest is titled Time & Truth.