Like John Roberts & Tony Barrand, Dave Para loves this “Crawn” version of the widespread carol “I Saw Three Ships.” It was collected in 1895 from a Humber estuary boatman on the east coast of England, and ultimately published by Baring-Gould in his Garland of Country Songs in the same year.
It finally makes sense out of the puzzle of why three ships appear in the Christmas narrative at all. Legend has it that the skulls (“crawns” = “craniums” = “crowns”?) of the “Kings” or “Wise Men” were taken and lodged in the cathedral at Cologne.
Dave thinks of this more as a pilgrim carol than a Christmas song, so here it is in March.
Listen to Nowell Sing We Clear perform “I Saw Three Ships,” from their Hail Smiling Morn album:
I saw three ships come sailing by, I saw three ships come sailing by, By, by, by, I saw three ships come sailing by.
I asked them what they’d got on board, I asked them what they’d got on board, Board, board, board, I asked them what they’d got on board.
They said that they had got three crawns, They said that they had got three crawns, Crawns, crawns, crawns, They said that they had got three crawns.
I asked them where they was taking them to, I asked them where they was taking them to, To, to, to, I asked them where they was taking them to.
They said they was going to Koln upon Rhine, They said they was going to Koln upon Rhine, Koln, Koln upon Rhine, They said they was going to Koln upon Rhine.
I asked them where they was bringing them from, I asked them where they was bringing them from, From, from, from, I asked them where they was bringing them from.
They said they was coming from Bethlehem. They said they was coming from Bethlehem. Beth, Beth-e-le-hem. They said they was coming from Bethlehem.
I saw three ships come sailing by, I saw three ships come sailing by, By, by, by, I saw three ships come sailing by.
I saw three ships come sailing by.
Dave Paraand his late wife Cathy Barton played and sang a lot of traditional music from Missouri and the Ozarks and did a couple of albums of Civil War music from Missouri with Bob Dyer. They were members of the Missouri Folklore Society since its revival 40 years ago. Loman Cansler often attended and sang at MFS events, and Becky Schroeder helped him put his collection at Western Historical Manuscripts, State Historical Society of Missouri. Dave continues to play throughout the US.
Introduced by Mark Gilston
I performed my first public concert at the Yellow Door Coffeehouse in Montreal in 1971. When I was putting together my set list, I noticed that two of the songs contained lyrics about ears which had been isolated from their owners’ heads. “The Cat Came Back” had the line, “Next day all they found was Freddy’s own right ear.” “Perrine” had the the line, “The mice they chewed and chewed and only left an ear.” I was also familiar with the song, “Jackknife” from the Unholy Modal Rounders, which begins, “I was cleaning my jackknife when you did appear. I had a fight with you; I cut off your ear.”
This all got me to wondering, were there many songs with missing or dismembered ears or other body parts? Thus began a collecting journey with many delightful finds and surprises. The next October, I heard Barry O’Neill sing “Shearing in a Bar” with “Two blows to clip away the wig… I also took an ear.” And at the same festival, I was introduced to the parody of “Captain Kidd,” “My name it is Van Gogh, lend an ear, lend an ear.”
I eventually compiled many of my best finds onto a CD entitled “Lend Me an Ear.” One of the songs which I had first heard in England in 1976 was “The Trooper and the Tailor.” But locating the version I had heard proved elusive. I discovered that versions had also been collected in the Catskill Mountains of New York and I conflated a couple of texts with the English melody and chorus which I found particularly delightful.
Listen to Mark sing the song accompanied on English concertina:
There was a fair lady in London did dwell, For style and for beauty no one could excel, And she had a husband who loved her right well, And her husband, he was a bold trooper.
Refrain: Ti in the Ti – I Ta loo rum ta lie, (repeat last line of verse)
There was a young tailor who lived there close by, And on this fair lady he casted his eye; He swore he would have her, or else he would die, For he did not admire the bold trooper.
The tailor, he came awhile after ‘twas night To seize on his jewel, his own heart’s delight, Saying, “Ten guineas I’ll give to lie with you tonight, For I hear that your husband’s on duty.”
“Oh yes, little tailor, you’ve guessed very right, My husband’s on duty, oh, this very night; But if he comes home, he’d give us a great fright, For you know that my husband’s a trooper.”
So the bargain was made and to bed they did run, They hadn’t been there long before fun had begun; The fun being over, sleep swiftly did come, And they had no more thoughts of the trooper.
The trooper came in in the midst of the night, He rapped on the door, which gave them a great fright; “Oh hide me, oh hide me, my sweet heart’s delight, For I hear the bold knock of the trooper!”
“There’s a three-cornered cupboard behind the old door, I’ll hide you in that, you’ll be safe and secure; Then I will go down and I’ll open the door And I’ll let in my husband, the trooper.”
She tripped down the stairs and she made a great din. With compliments and kisses she welcomed him in; “But for compliments and kisses I care not a pin: Come light me a fire!” said the trooper.
“The fire is all out, and there’s no fire stuff, So come to bed, darling, you’ll be warm enough!” “There’s a three-cornered cupboard, it’s old and it’s rough, And I’ll burn it this night,” cried the trooper.
Oh husband, dear husband, it’s not my desire, for to burn a good cupboard to light you a fire, For in it I keep a game-cock, I admire.” “I’ll see your game-cock,” cried the trooper.
So he went to the cupboard, he opened the door: And there sat the tailor all “safe and secure!” Grabbed the nape of his neck, yanked him out on the floor, ”Is this your game-cock?” said the trooper!
He kicked and he cuffed him, and beat him severe; With his own pair of shears he cut off his right ear – “Now for this night’s lodging you’ve paid very dear!” And away ran the poor cropp-ed tailor.
Mark Gilston was born and raised in New York City. Both of his parents were steeped in the folk music revival scene of the 1950’s. He grew up listening to 78’s and LP’s of American, Russian, Spanish, Caribbean and Israeli folk music. Learning guitar and taking piano lessons starting at age 5, he was constantly immersed in music. In his youth, Mark gained a love of traditional American ballads and Old-Time songs and instrumentals from recordings and from his father, who often sang the old ballads which he had learned in his youth in Appalachia.
After earning a Bachelor’s degree in Folklore, Mark went to graduate school at SUNY Binghamton studying ethnomusicology and ended up settling there until 1994.
Mark has been giving concerts and leading workshops since 1971. He interned at the Library of Congress archive of Folk Song, and has worked as a researcher for Alan Lomax. He has published numerous articles and books on music and folklore. Mark is also a multi-instrumentalist with an international reputation in English concertina and mountain dulcimer. He won the prestigious National Mountain Dulcimer Championship in 2016. Mark has 14 CDs on the Ramble Creek and Creative Engineering labels. “The Trooper and the Tailor” is on Mark’s second CD, Lend Me an Ear.
Introduced by Lee Murdock
This song was composed by Henry C. Work in the wake of one of the worst maritime disasters to occur until that time. The Lady Elgin was a side-wheel steam-powered vessel, 300 feet long with a capacity of 1000 tons. She carried finished goods, mail, general freight and passengers between lake-towns in the United States and Canada. Her master was Captain Jack Wilson, well respected among his peers and considered a first-rate sailor.
On the evening of September 8, 1860, the Lady Elgin slipped her lines at the dock in Chicago, Illinois, on her return trip down Lake Michigan, the next stop being Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Around midnight, a storm blew up, creating slow going in the frothy seas. The lumber schooner Augusta was heading to South Chicago with her load when she accidentally ran into the Lady Elgin in the confused seas. Although her bow was damaged, the Augusta continued onto her destination, leaving the crippled steamer to her fate.
Dreadful collision on Lake Michigan, between the mail steamer Lady Elgin and the schooner Augusta, Sept. 8, 1860.
Shortly thereafter, the Lady Elgin sank, leaving in her wake many passengers fighting for survival, clinging to the debris still floating amid huge waves. As the night progressed, the stormy winds from the northeast continued to rage, blowing the survivors toward shore.
Come morning, over three hundred people had lost their lives, many being dashed along the rocks along the lakeshore, within a hundred feet of salvation. As with many tragic events, this shipwreck was reported in the newspapers extensively, even as far away as England in The Illustrated London News.
Originally, this song spoke to the emotional sense of loss to those families who lost loved ones in this tragedy. As I researched the story behind the song, I came across first-hand accounts of this event that were not related in the original lyrics. Therefore, I took it upon myself (with some trepidation) to “add to the tradition” by writing three additional verses that tell of bravery and sacrifice in the face of this disaster.
Performance by Lee Murdock, with a spoken introduction
Up from the poor man’s cottage, forth from the mansion door; Sweeping across the valley and echoing along the shore; Caught by the morning breezes, borne on the evening gale; Comes the voice of mourning, a sad and solemn wail.
Chorus: Lost on the Lady Elgin, sleeping to wake no more, Numbered with those three hundred who failed to reach the shore.
Staunch was the noble steamer, precious the freight she bore, Gaily she loosed her cables a few short hours before. Grandly she swept our harbor, joyfully rang her bell, Little thought we ere morning ‘twould toll so sad a knell.
Chorus
*A thunderstorm at midnight, big seas began to roll, One hundred miles of water was the noble steamer’s goal. But a fatal slash on her port side from a schooner bearing pine, An eerie silence shrouded all, the dying engines whined.
Chorus
*Oh, here’s to Captain Wilson, may his soul forever rest, When his noble steamer plunged beneath the surging crest. Leading songs and prayers for every woman, man and child, He bravely faced the elements on that long night so wild.
Chorus
*And here’s to Edward Spencer, who lived along the shore, That night the waves came breaking in with cries above the roar. Sixteen times he plunged into the boiling surf to wrest Another soul to safety asking, “Did I do my best?”
‘Tis the sound of children, crying for parents gone. Children slept that evening, but orphans woke at dawn. Sisters for brothers weeping, husbands for missing wives, Such were the ties dissevered by those three hundred lives.
Lee Murdock has one foot in contemporary folk music, and one foot firmly planted in the folk music tradition. In his arrangements of songs from traditional archives, the listener will hear the influences of Woody Guthrie, Leadbelly, David Crosby, Dan Fogelberg, Stan Rogers, Carolan, and Martin Carthy.
Having studied the traditional folk songs of the British Isles and Appalachian American music, Lee discovered the music of the Great Lakes region while searching for the folk songs from his native Illinois and the midwest. In that quest, Murdock uncovered a boundless body of music and stories about the Great Lakes. Grounded in the work song tradition, Murdock comes alongside with ballads of contemporary commerce in the grand folk style.
On the traditional side, Murdock draws heavily on the archives of authentic sailing songs collected in the early twentieth century. Housed at the University of Michigan, Professor Ivan Walton’s collection of songs of the Great Lakes sailors was unpublished until 2002, when Detroit journalist Joe Grimm completed Walton’s work, published by the Wayne State University Press and titled Windjammers, Songs of the Great Lakes Sailors. Murdock’s contribution of the musical scores to the text filled a long-missing link in North American folklore and song.
He has released 21 CDs from 1981-2018, with each recording presenting a balance of traditional, original and contemporary music with a ear to expanding the audience of folk music lovers. With a deeper understanding of the folk process, Lee Murdock’s work is a documentary and also an anthem to the people who live, work, learn and play along the freshwater highways of North America.
Introduced by Kim Wallach
It was autumn, around 16 years ago, a friend died unexpectedly of a heart attack. My marriage with my hopes and dreams was also dying. I was searching through my big collections of songs—Lomax, Warner, etc.—tracking down songs I wanted to learn. I found “Pinery Boy,” and the Warner version of “Lang a-Growing.” Then in Folk Songs of the Catskills by Cazden, Haufrecht & Studer, State University of New York Press, Albany c 1982, I found the relatively rare “Bright Phoebe.” The raw grief and loss in both melody and lyric matched what I was feeling perfectly, and I set about learning it.
I am a singer and a songwriter. The way I understand the world, my place in it and my feelings about it has always been through music.
Ellen Cohn sings the same melody, but a different set of words. You can hear her version here:
You can also hear Stan Ransome, the Connecticut Peddler, here:
Bright Phoebe was my true love’s name Her beauty did my heart contain You’d never find a fairer dame If you’d search the wide world over
Me and my love we did agree That shortly married we would be If ever I returned from sea We’d seal that solemn bargain
But when I did return again Death had my dear companion slain The joy and comfort of my life In the cold ground lies a-mouldering
I wish I’d never come on shore Nor viewed my native land no more But stayed where the billows loud did roar A-mourning for Bright Phoebe
I’ll go unto some foreign place Where I can see no human face and spend the restance of my life A-mourning for Bright Phoebe
Kim Wallach is a singer of original, traditional and wonderful songs dwelling in southwest New Hampshire. Recently retired as a public school music teacher, she is enjoying playing music for Firebird, a molly and border team, going to Monadnock area pub sings, caring for her aging mom and adopted “malted,” and even doing the occasional gig. You can still contact her through her website, kimwallach.com, and order all her CDs including the latest, Chatter of the Finches, through CDBaby and other online sources.
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.
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 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.
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.
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:
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 Pintand partnerFelicia Daleshare 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.
Thanks to the Massachusetts Cultural Council for their generous support.