Category: Song of the Month

Submitted by Pete Coe

Mummers’ plays are performed at Christmas (mainly in Southern England), All Souls (Cheshire), and Easter (Lancashire and Yorkshire).

The story is always the same. A hero (usually St. George) is challenged and fights another champion (Prince of Paradise). One of them is killed, usually the challenger. A doctor is called for, who administers a miracle cure to bring the dead back to life. The play ends with various characters, including Beelzebub who collects from the crowd, often with menaces.

The plays date back to the 17th century and seem to be based on a variety of plays performed at country fairs. Theories that these plays represent death and resurrection, the passing of the seasons, and have pagan origins are now largely discredited.

The song “Bring The New Year In” was written by Pete Coe for the Long Company Mummers, based in Ripponden, West Yorkshire, who perform their play on 2nd, 3rd, 5th and 6th January only (age and health permitting).

Listen to Long Company singing “Bring the New Year In:”

Listen to Finest Kind’s version of “Bring the New Year In:”

Lyrics

In comes Old King Christmas, all dressed in green and gold
And may he never be forgot, his story left untold
For it’s once a year he brings good cheer, our spirits to engage
The like was never seen before on any common stage:

Chorus:
For we are not of the ragged sort, but some of royal trim
We’ll sweep away the old year and bring the new year in.

In then comes Saint George, that noble champion bold
Who fought the fiery dragon, made the tyrant’s blood run cold
And as through this world he wanders to fulfil his destiny
Well, they must die who dare to try and challenge liberty:

[Chorus]

In comes a valiant soldier, Prince Paradise by name
With sword and shield he will not yield, and hopes to win more fame
So it’s of these noble champions, both born of high renown
And they have made a solemn vow to pull the order down:

[Chorus]

In then comes a working man, they call him Common Jack
He puts food inside our bellies, and clothes upon our back
Hard labor is his destiny, from the moment of his birth
And the rich take all the money, for the poor will take the earth:

[Chorus]

And in then comes a doctor, as plainly doth appear
And by his art he’ll play his part, he travels far and near
With his lotions and his potions, to ease us of our pain
With bitter pills to cure all ills, see England rise again:

[Chorus]

In then comes Beelzebub, a name forever cursed
He’s before you, he’s behind you, he’s the last that would be first
Put your hands into your pockets, your money he do crave
To see this play you must pay, or join him in the grave:

[Chorus]

Pete Coe has had more than 50 years of music making on the English folk scene. His contributions include traditional song research, song writing in traditional style, the founding of several seminal bands (the founder member and visionary force behind The New Victory Band, Bandoggs and Red Shift), plus solo and duo performances, dance calling, recording, field research, local folk activism in Ryburn Three Step, and teaching at various levels. Together with his wife, Sue, he received the Gold Badge Award from the English Folk Dance and Song Society (EFDSS) in 2016 for their outstanding contributions to folk dance, music or song.

Submitted by April Grant

I can’t remember a time when I did not know “Jolly Roving Tar.” When I was a child, camping with my parents, they would sing “Jolly Roving Tar” with me to keep my spirits up while we walked to the restroom at night to brush our teeth. The combination of upbeat tune, pragmatic descriptions, and bleak ending makes this song powerful for me.

I had thought the song originated in England, as is the case with many songs I like. To my delight, it was written in the US, for a Broadway musical. The song was written by Edward Harrigan (lyrics), and Dave Braham (music) for Harrigan’s show Old Lavender (1877).

Sheet music for “Jolly Roving Tar” was published in 1885, and in the 20th century, the song was part of the repertoire of traditional singer Lena Bourne Fish. She recorded it for song collectors Frank and Anne Warner in the 1940s, when she lived in East Jaffrey, New Hampshire; it appears in their book Traditional American Folk Songs (1984) and would also become part of the repertoires of their sons, traditional singers Jeff Warner and Gerret Warner.

The liner notes to the recording Songs & Sounds of the Sea describe Mrs. Fish as having learned the song from “an old whalerman.” It wouldn’t be the first instance of a song originating outside seagoing life and being enthusiastically adopted by sailors.

My parents and I heard the song from a wealth of performers; my list of favorites includes the versions from Jeff Warner, Gerret Warner, Jerry Epstein, Brian Peters, and singing duo John Roberts and Tony Barrand, whose version is the one transcribed for this article. They recorded it in 1973 on their album Across The Western Ocean (as “Get Up Jack, John Sit Down”) and noted they had learned it initially from Peter Bellamy. They seem to have originated a way of drawing out the third line of every verse for maximum impact, which I’ve since heard from other performers.

Peter Bellamy learned the song in the 1960s from the Warners, and seems to have inspired a lot of English singers to learn it too. From a performing standpoint, it’s heartwarming to me to see this as an example of how influence can go in all directions. When you are an American folk singer, it’s easy to become obsessed with English and Scottish songs that survived in the US, and from there to fall into the misconception that influence only moves westwards, and that songs originating in the US are less important than those from the UK and Ireland.

In his album notes, Peter Bellamy mentions other versions, but as far as I’ve gathered, he’s talking about an older ballad about a woman running away to sea, and the song we’re discussing isn’t derived from that song. They’re unrelated except for the words “jolly roving tar.”

Maybe the older song’s title influenced Harrigan; certainly, Harrigan packs some solid nautical slang into the lyrics. As a child I’d assumed eight bells meant eight p.m., but the code for signaling time aboard ships meant that an officer rang the bell eight times at the end of any four-hour watch (so, no matter what time the clock says, it’s time for Jack to get out).

The original sheet music lyrics and Mrs. Fish’s version describe Jack as eating “souse,” but some performers, including John Roberts and Tony Barrand, sing “scouse” instead. As a fan of food history, I’m happy to say that both those options make sense. Souse is a meat dish cooked with liquid ingredients and seasonings to make the meat go further (it’s still a part of many cooking traditions, often including lime juice, as per this Bahamian recipe). Scouse is meat stew, popular in the seafaring city of Liverpool (UK) to the point where “Scouser” is a slang term for a person from Liverpool. (“Scouse” or “lobscouse” may get its name from a Latvian phrase literally meaning “good bowl.”)

“Jolly Roving Tar” in the Vaughan Williams Memorial Library

Listen to John Roberts and Tony Barrand singing “Jolly Roving Tar:”

Lyrics

Well, ships may come and ships may go, just as long as the seas do run,
And a sailor lad, likewise his dad, he loves his pork and rum.
Now a lass ashore he do adore, one that is plump and round,
But when your money’s all gone it’s the same old song, get up, Jack, John, sit down.

Chorus: 
Come along, come along, me jolly brave boys, there’s plenty more grog in the jar,
We’ll plow the briny ocean with the jolly roving tar.

When Jack’s ashore, he’ll make his way to some old boarding house,
He’s welcomed in with rum and gin, likewise with pork and scouse,
And he’ll spend and he’ll spend and he’ll never offend, until he lies drunk on the ground…

Chorus

Jack then will slip aboard some ship bound for India or Japan;
For in Asia there, the ladies fair all love a sailor man.
And he’ll go ashore and he won’t scorn to buy some maid a gown…

Chorus

Jack—Jack is old and weather-beat, too old to sail about,
They’ll let him stop in some grog shop till eight bells do ring out.
Then he’ll raise his hands high and loud he’ll cry, “Great God, I’m homeward bound…”

April Grant writes poems, songs, and short stories, and sings traditional and original songs. Her work has been referred to as “riveting” and “playful yet sinister.” She has sung and told stories in person at venues across New England, including the Connecticut Sea Music Festival (2022), the Blue Hill Maritime Festival (2024), the New England Folk Festival (multiple years), and the Portsmouth Maritime Folk Festival (2004 and 2024), and via the internet to international audiences during the pandemic. Her interests include traditional and trad-adjacent songs, history, and local legends.

Submitted by Peter and Barbara Snape

In 1975, Barbara was fortunate enough to meet a traditional singer named Emma Vickers. Emma was in her eighties and was living, as she had done all of her life, in the village of Burscough, situated on the Leeds to Liverpool canal in Lancashire, England. Emma was a warm and generous character, known locally as a “live wire of an old age pensioner,” and it was only later that the importance of the occasion was fully appreciated and realized.

One of the songs that Emma sang was a beautiful version of the song “Died for Love,” known all over the British Isles and America in many varied forms. Emma’s version was called “There Is a Tavern.” It was sung to the tune “McCafferty,” very similar to the “Lord Franklin” tune, widely used in traditional songs. There are lots of floating verses for this song, although the verse that starts “My heart is weary with all this grief” is not so widely known.

In the 1960s, Emma was visited by the folk song collector Fred Hamer, who later included some of her songs, including this one, in his Garners Gay song book.

In Burscough Wharf, once a busy canal trading center, there is a Blue Plaque installed on the canal side in honor of Emma Vickers, which recognizes her as a “community hero.”

Listen to Peter and Barbara singing “There Is a Tavern:”

Lyrics

There is a tavern in yonder town,
Where my false love goes and sits him down,
He pulls a strange girl upon his knee,
Oh don’t you think that’s a grief to me.

A grief, a grief and I’ll tell you why,
Because she has got more gold than I,
But gold will waste and her beauty will blast,
And then, poor girl, she’ll come like me at last.

He courted me when my apron tied low,
He followed me through all the frost and snow,
But now it ties underneath my chin,
He passes me by and says nothing.

There is a blackbird in yonder tree,
Some say it’s blind and it cannot see,
I wish it had been so by me,
Before I kept my love’s company.

Now all young girls be advised by me,
Never let a stranger take you on his knee,
He’ll court and kiss you, swear to be true,
And the very next moment he’ll bid you adieu.

My heart is weary with all this grief,
For my false love was worse than a thief,
A thief will rob you then run away,
But a false young man he’ll lead you astray.

Dig me a grave, long wide and deep,
Put marble stones at my head and feet,
Plant a red rose bush on the middle of me,
For I loved that lad, but he never loved me.

Peter and Barbara Snape live in the northwest of England and perform traditional song from that area. They research songs with varied and interesting themes and perform them with commitment, passion and enjoyment. Closely aligned to their research and singing interests, Cotton Town Chronicles is a presentation of songs about working life during the age when cotton and coal where king in Lancashire; A Song Seeker Found tells the story of Fred Hamer and his Garners Gay English Folk Song collection; Three Yards a Penny, Song, Song, Songs explores the Ballad/Broadsheet printer John Harkness of Preston, the songs he printed, and the street singers who sang them; and Anne Geddes Gilchrist, OBE, FSA, Folk Song Collector and Scholar is an overview of a remarkable Lancastrian woman who became a pivotal figure both within the folk-song collecting community of the early 20th century and in the publication of the Journal of the Folk Song Society.

Submitted by Judy Cook

“Waterbound” is a play-party song from Grayson County, Virginia. The earliest known recording was 1929 (unissued recording, Grayson County Railsplitters). It was recorded in 1938 by the Bogtrotters band of neighboring Galax, VA. The Grayson Co. Railsplitters’ recording is essentially identical to the canonical version sung in the folk revival, mostly learned from the Wade Ward/Bogtrotters recording. The recording I’ve chosen is of The New Golden Ring, led by Joe Hickerson, on the 1971 Folk-Legacy recording Five Days Singing – Volume 1.

I just got back from western North Carolina, where I enjoyed doing the first program in the newly renovated performance space in the 1904 Courtroom for the Ashe County Historical Society—a multi-media hour titled “Songs from These Mountains.” My closing song was “Waterbound.” My 45-year-old niece attended and remembered it well. I remember her standing on a kitchen chair and singing it beautifully when she was two years old.

Listen to The New Golden Ring singing “Waterbound:”

Lyrics: Waterbound

Traditional

Waterbound and I can’t get home
Waterbound and I can’t get home
Waterbound and I can’t get home
Down in North Carolina

Chickens crowin’ in the old plowed field
Chickens crowin’ in the old plowed field
Chickens crowin’ in the old plowed field
Down in North Carolina

Me and Tom and Dave goin’ home
Me and Tom and Dave goin’ home
Me and Tom and Dave goin’ home
Before the water rises

The old man’s mad and I don’t care
The old man’s mad and I don’t care
The old man’s mad and I don’t care
I’m going to get his daughter

If he don’t give her up, we’re gonna run away
If he don’t give her up, we’re gonna run away
If he don’t give her up, we’re gonna run away
Down in North Carolina

I’m going home with the one I love
I’m going home with the one I love
I’m going home with the one I love
Down to North Carolina

Judy Cook is an author, entertainer, and folk singer. She has been living in Oberlin, Ohio, with her husband Dennis since 2013. Since 1998, she has been touring throughout both Britain and the US. She is known for her repertoire and storytelling ability in song. Judy has one book and several CDs. Lyrics and recordings of her songs are on her website. You may reach her at judy@judycook.net.

Submitted by Julie Henigan

For August’s Song of the Month, I’ve chosen Clarence Ashley’s version of “The Cuckoo,” or, as he called it, “The Coo Coo Bird.” This song has strayed a long way from its British broadside roots in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, in which the song was a collection of so-called “floating verses” about unprosperous love.

In this country, one of the versions closest to the British originals is Jean Ritchie’s “The Cuckoo,” which she learned from her father’s side of the family. Other well-known American versions are those performed by Hobart Smith and his sister Texas Gladden.

Like Hobart Smith, Ashley included a banjo approximation of the cuckoo’s call in his accompaniment. His verses have more in common with “Jack of Diamonds” than with Jean Ritchie’s or the broadside versions, but it is identifiable by the inclusion of the verse about the cuckoo which never “hollers cuckoo till the fourth day of July”—the date being a clear expression of American patriotism, since in England the cuckoo doesn’t sing until “the summer draws near.” I myself heard a cuckoo in Cornwall in early May.

I learned this song by osmosis, so that when on a recent song Zoom my friend Mimi Wright sang Texas Gladden’s version, I grabbed my banjo and played an approximation of Clarence Ashley’s rendition. Here’s a link to one of the British broadsides.

Listen to Clarence Ashley singing “The Cuckoo:”

Lyrics

Gonna build me a log cabin
On a mountain so high,
So I can see Willie
As he goes on by.

Hmm-hmm, hmm-hmm-hmm, etc.

Oh, the coo-coo is a pretty bird,
She warbles as she flies.
She never hollers coo-coo
Till the fourth day of July.



I’ve played cards in England,
I’ve played cards in Spain;
I’ll bet you ten dollars
I beat you next game.

Jack-a-Diamonds, Jack-a-Diamonds,
I’ve known you from old;
Now, you’ve robbed my poor pocket
Of my silver and my gold.

Hmm-hmm, hmm-hmm-hmm, etc.

I’ve played cards in England,
I’ve played cards in Spain;
I’ll bet you ten dollars
I beat you next game.

Oh, the coo-coo is a pretty bird
She warbles as she flies
She never hollers coo-coo
Till the fourth day of July.

Julie Henigan writes: I grew up in the Missouri Ozarks, and I’ve been playing and singing traditional American, English, and Irish songs since I was about ten years old. I play guitar, 5-string banjo, lap dulcimer, and fiddle, which I use for instrumentals and song accompaniments. I have a CD (American Stranger) and two books on DADGAD guitar with Mel Bay to my credit. I am also a song scholar; for further details, see my website.

Submitted by Harry Tuft

I learned this song from a Riverside album by Bob Gibson, “I Come for to Sing.” According to some internet research, Joan Baez must have learned it that way, as well, mostly. She may have conflated both his and the older one, below. Again, from the internet, I have learned that it is likely a version of “Little Musgrave and Lady Barnet,” purported to go back as far as the fifteenth century. 

Perhaps the first version, from which others have learned the song, was by Ewan MacColl and Peggy Seeger on a Folkways recording in 1961. Fairport Convention did it and Doc Watson, too. I have only heard the Gibson version, and I believe I have stayed close to his rendition.

Listen to Harry singing “Matty Groves:”

Lyrics

Hi ho, hi ho holiday, the best day of the year.
Little Matty Groves to church did go, some holy words to hear,
Some holy words to hear.



He spied three ladies dressed in black, as they came into view.
Lord Arlyn’s wife among them walked, a flower among the few,
A flower among the few.



She trip-ed up to Matty Groves, her eyes so low cast down,
Oh pray, oh pray, come with me stay, as you pass through the town,
As you pass through the town.


I cannot go, and I dare not go. I fear ‘twould cost my life. 

For I can tell by the little ring you wear that you are Lord Arlyn’s wife,
You’re the great Lord Arlyn’s wife.

This may be false, it may be true, I can’t deny it all.
But Arlyn’s gone to consecrate King Henry at Whitehall,
King Henry at Whitehall.



Oh pray, oh pray, come with me stay, I’ll hide you out of sight.
And I’ll serve you there beyond compare, and sleep with you the night,
And sleep with you the night.

Her little page did listen well to all that they did say.
And ere that they were out of sight, He quickly sped away,
He quickly sped away.

He did run the Kings Highway, he swam across the tide.
And he ne’er did stop until he came to the great Lord Arlyn’s side,
To the great Lord Arlyn’s side.



What news, what news, me bowly boy, what news bring you to me?
My castle burned, my tenants wronged, or my lady with baby,
My lady with baby.

No harm has come your house and land, the little page did say,
But Matty Groves is bedded up, with your fair lady gay,
With your fair Lady gay.

Lord Arlyn called his men and he bade them with him go.

And he bade them ne’er a word to speak, and ne’er a horn to blow,
And ne’er a horn to blow.

Among Lord Arlyn’s merry men ’twas one who wished no ill,
And ere the castle was in sight, blew his horn so loud so shrill,
Blew a blast so loud so shrill.

What’s this, what’s this, cried Matty Groves, what’s this that I do hear?
It must be Lord Arlyn’s merry men, the ones that I do fear,
The ones that I do fear.

Lie down lie down, cried Arlyn’s wife, come keep my back from cold.
It’s only my uncle’s shepherd men, a-calling their sheep to fold,

A-calling their sheep to fold.

Little Matty Groves he did lie down, and he took a nap asleep.
And when he woke, Lord Arlyn was a-standing at his feet,
A-standin’ at his bed feet.

Well, it’s how do you like your pillow said he, and it’s how do you like your sheets
And how do you like that fair lady gay, what lies in your arms asleep?

What lies in your arms asleep.



Very well do I like my pillow said he, and it’s better do I like my sheets,
But it’s best, do I like, that fair lady gay, what lies, but ain’t asleep,
Who lies but ain’t asleep.


Rise up, rise up, little Matty Groves, defend you if you can.
In England, it shall never be said, I slewed a sleeping man,
I slewed a sleeping man.

I cannot rise and I dare not rise, I fear ‘twould cost my life.

For you have got two bitter swords and I ain’t got a knife,
I ain’t got a knife.

Oh yes, I have two bitter swords, they cost me deep in the purse,
But you shall have the better one and I shall have the worst,
I shall have the worse.

Firstest stroke little Matty struck, he hurt Lord Arlyn sore.
And the nextest stroke Lord Arlyn struck, little Matty struck no more,
Little Matty struck no more.

Rise up, rise up, my gay young wife. Draw on your wedding clothes.

And tell me do you like me best, or like you Matty Groves

Or the now dead Matty Groves.

She lifted Matty’s dying head, and kissed from cheek to chin.
It’s Matty Groves I’d rather have, than Arlyn and all his kin,
Than Arlyn, and all his kin.

He took his lady by the hand, and he dragged her through the hall.
And with his sword, he cut off her head, and he stove it again’ the wall
He stove it again’ the wall.

Oh, woe is me, oh woe is me, why stayed you not my hand?
For I have killed the fairest folk in all of England,
In all of England. 

Harry Tuft says: I grew up in Philadelphia in a family that enjoyed music. I owe my first interest in folk music to the recordings of Pete Seeger and Big Bill Broonzy, and also to Roger Abrahams and Bob Coltman, early influencers. I credit the Gilded Cage coffee house also as a great incubator in the late fifties in Philadelphia. I started a folk music store in Denver in 1962, the Denver Folklore Center, which I ran until I sold it to friends in 2016. This has allowed me to concentrate on making music, a primary goal when I came to Colorado in 1960. (It’s only taken me sixty years to pursue my real love, making music for folks). I have also been a member of the group Grubstake, which has had a run for over forty years. It was dormant for a few years, but has once again surfaced for occasional performances.


Submitted by Mara Levine

“Tree of Life” was written for the 1983 musical theater production Plain Hearts: Songs and Stories of Midwestern Prairie Women by Lance Belville, with music and lyrics by Eric Peltoniemi. The play features a variety of scenes and songs celebrating the lives of pioneer women who settled in the midwest in the early 1900’s. According to Eric, much of it was based on his grandmother’s and great-grandmother’s lives.

The first two verses of “Tree of Life” are entirely comprised of the names of quilt block patterns. Eric related to me: “I was inspired by a fabulous hardcover book I found filled with hundreds of quilt patterns. I thought their names were so evocative that I made them the lyrics of the song.”

Listen to Mara singing “Tree of Life:”

Track Credits: From the Facets of Folk album
Written by Eric Peltoniemi, © Eric Peltoniemi Music LLC / ASCAP 
Mara Levine (lead & harmony vocals), Caroline Cutroneo (harmony vocals & rhythm guitar), Hillary Foxsong (harmony vocals), Ed Trickett (hammered dulcimer), John Guth: Bass 
Vocal arrangements: Mara Levine/ Bob Harris / Caroline Cutroneo 
Engineered by Bob Harris; mixed and produced by Bob Harris and Mara Levine at Ampersand Records, Bridgewater, NJ.

Lyrics: Tree of Life

By Eric Peltoniemi

Beggar’s Blocks and Blind Man’s Fancy,
Boston Corners and Beacon Lights,
Broken Starts and Buckeye Blossoms
Blooming on the Tree of Life.

Chorus:
Tree of Life, quilted by the lantern light,
Every stitch a leaf upon the Tree of Life.
Stitch away, sisters, stitch away.

Hattie’s Choice (Wheel of Fortune), and High Hosanna (Indiana),
Hills and Valleys (Sweet Wood Lilies)
and Heart’s Delight (Tail of Benjamin’s Kite),
Hummingbird (Hovering Gander) in Honeysuckle (Oleander),
Blooming on the Tree of Life.

Chorus

Break

We’re only known as someone’s mother,
Someone’s daughter, or someone’s wife,
But with our hands and with our vision,
We make the patterns on the Tree of Life.

Called “one of the best singers of her generation” by Christine Lavin, and “golden voiced” by David Amram, song finder Mara Levine selects songs with inherent beauty, then crafts them to a glittering brilliance. According to folk singer Si Kahn, “Layering harmony line on top of harmony line, Levine creates rich tapestries of sound and emotion.”

Mara joined Bell Buckle Records in 2020. Her critically acclaimed albums Facets of Folk (2013) and Jewels and Harmony (2019) were each #1 on the Folk Alliance International Folk DJ Chart upon release, and reached #3 for the year. Mara has appeared on radio programs and at venues and festivals in the US, Canada, and Europe. Her performances are known for thoughtful and inspiring interpretations of traditional songs, worthy modern classics, protest music, and some of the sweetest vocalizing you’ll find this side of the golden sounds of the 60s, with songs that stir the emotions, and encourage singing along!

Chris Spector of Midwest Record described her as “the new standard bearer for folk music” after the release of her latest project, and according to Les Siemieniuk of Penguin Eggs, “The world needs more such interpreters of fine and contemporary folk songs.”

Submitted by Dave Para

The song is also known by “Whiskey on a Sunday” or “Come Day, Go Day.” Liverpool folksinger Glyn Hughes wrote it in 1959 after hearing stories from older people who remembered seeing Davy in the 1890s.

Originally a sailor from Jamaica, Seth Davy became a fixed character on the streets of Liverpool entertaining, especially young children, dancing his three homemade dolls on a plank. He sang the minstrel song “Massa Is a Stingy Man,” with the chorus, “Sing come day go day, God send Sunday, we’ll drink whiskey all the week, and buttermilk on Sunday.”

The place and idioms in the lyrics reference Liverpool, but Irish singers have sung the song often with words changed to reference Dublin.

Listen to John Roberts and Tony Barrand singing “Seth Davy:”

See English singer Christopher Lawley essentially re-enacting Seth Davy:

Lyrics: Seth Davy or Come Day, Go Day

By Glyn Hughes

Chorus:
Come day, go day
Wish in my heart for Sunday
Drinking buttermilk all the week
Whiskey on a Sunday.


He sat on the corner of Bevington Bush
Beside an old packing case
And the dolls on the end of his plank went a-dancing
As he crooned with a smile on his face:

The tired old man drummed the wooden beam
His dolls, they danced the gear
A better old show as you’ve ever seen
At the Pivvy or the New Brighton Pier:

In 1902 old Seth Davy died
His song was heard no more
The three dancing dolls in the jowler bin ended
And the plank went to mend the back door:

But on some stormy nights down old Scotty Road way
With the wind blowing in from the sea
You can still hear the song of old Seth Davy
As he croons to his dancing dolls three:

Dave Para is a folksinger from Missouri and now from New Mexico, who with his late wife, Cathy Barton, danced the limberjack for children many, many times. He used information from a Mudcat thread and Secondhand Songs for this article.

Submitted by Sara Grey

“Cobweb of Dreams” was written by Joy Masefield and Leon Rosselson, an English songwriter whose specialty is topical political songs. It is not just the simple love song it first appears to be. In Oxfordshire, England, it was the tradition to present a historical documentary, a combination of drama, music, and light show, of the ancient village of Towersey. “Cobweb of Dreams” was the song which opened and closed the drama, thus binding together the life-cycle of the townspeople of Towersey.

Leon was commissioned to write a love song that was to be sung at the Towersey Festival, and he was very reluctant to do so because he was primarily a writer of political songs and felt uneasy about writing a love song….what a misconception! It turned out to be one of the most poignant and beautiful love songs ever written!

Listen to Sara Grey and the late Ed Trickett performing “Cobweb of Dreams:”

Lyrics

Words by Joy Masefield, Music by Leon Rosselson

I have been searching through the timeless past
Because of you, my love, because of you
Weaving a cobweb that will hold you fast
Because of you, my love, because of you.

Oh sing again the song I heard you singing
The song that set the bells of Heaven ringing.
The song that surely told me
The grave could never hold me
Because of you, my love, because of you.

And now I know that love’s a fragile flower
Because of you my love, because of you
So little time between the sun and showers
Because of you, my love, because of you.

Only by singing can I soothe my sorrow
Because of you, my love, because of you.
Today is gone, but there is always tomorrow
Because of you, my love, because of you.

Sara Grey is a fine American singer, banjo player and song collector, who is immersed in the song traditions of both sides of the Atlantic. Her love affair with traditional songs for over 60 years has given her an incomparable knowledge of songs and ballads and how they have moved and evolved. She wants to gather the songs and pass them on to future generations so that they will have the pleasure of hearing and singing them just as she has. After living and singing in Britain for more than 45 years, Sara has returned to her native New England and is living in Vermont with her husband Dave. She continues to tour actively, mostly with her son Kieron Means. See more about Sara on her website.

Submitted by Mary Garvey

“The Badger Drive” is a Newfoundland folk song/ballad. The song is about a lumber drive near Badger, Newfoundland. As with many Newfoundland ballads, the lyrics are about traditional places and events and sometimes actual individuals—and this song has all those qualities.

The song was composed in 1912 by John V. Devine of King’s Cove, Bonavista Bay, NL. Local and family tradition hold that Devine composed it in a Grand Falls boarding house after having been fired from his job as scaler for the Anglo Newfoundland Development Company (A.N.D.). He sang the song at a St. Patrick’s Day concert at which company officials were present, and allegedly won his job back.

Listen to Barry Delaney performing “The Badger Drive:”

Lyrics

There is one class of men in this country that never is mentioned in song.

And now, since their trade is advancing, they’ll come out on top before long.

They say that our sailors have danger, and likewise our warriors bold,

But there’s none know the life of a driver, what he suffers with hardship and cold.

Chorus: 

With their pike poles and peavies and bateaus and all

They’re sure to drive out in the spring, that’s the time

With the caulks on their boots as they get on the logs,

And it’s hard to get over their time.

Bill Dorothey he is the manager, and he’s a good man at the trade;

And when he’s around seeking drivers, he’s like a train going down grade,

But still he is a man that’s kindhearted, on his word you can always depend.

And there’s never a man that works with him but likes to go with him again.

Chorus

I tell you today home in London, The Times it is read by each man,

But little they think of the fellows that drove the wood on Mary Ann,

For paper is made out of pulpwood and many things more you may know,

And long may our men live to drive it upon Paymeoch and Tomjoe.

Chorus

The drive it is just below Badger, and everything is working grand,

With a jolly good crew of picked drivers and Ronald Kelly in command,

For Ronald is boss on the river, and I tell you he’s a man that’s alive,

He drove the wood off Victoria, now he’s out on the main river drive.

Chorus

So now to conclude and to finish, I hope that ye all will agree

In wishing success to all Badger and the A.N.D. Company.

And long may they live for to flourish, and continue to chop, drive and roll,

And long may the business be managed by Mr. Dorothey and Mr. Cole.

Chorus

Mary Garvey writes: I am a retired but still working person originally from the lumber (major log drives here and pulp mills) region of Southwest Washington, USA. I did graduate work in experimental psychology at the University of Newfoundland (unfortunately was unable to complete it) and heard magnificent music there, including in my own house. I have been given a number of songs about my own corner of the world and put out CDs with other people on traditional songs of here (SW WA) and other places. Love Irish and British Isles songs, and Newfoundland songs, of course.