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1. |
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ROUD 1: The Raggle Taggle Gypsies
D G D
Three gypsies come round to my door,
G D A
And downstairs ran my lady-o.
D G D
And one sang high and one sang low
Bm A D
And one sang Bonny Bonny Biscay-o.
Then she took off her silken gown
And dressed in hose of leather-o.
The dirty rags all around my door;
And she’s gone with the raggle-taggle gypsies-o.
Twas late at night my lord returned
Enquiring for his lady-o.
The servants one and all replied,
Well she’s gone with the raggle-taggle gypsies-o.
Go harness up my milk white steed,
Go fetch to me my pony-o.
And I will ride and seek my bride
Who’s a-gone with the raggle-taggle gypsies-o.
So he rode high and he rode low,
He rode through woods and copses too,
Until he came to a wide open field
Where he has spied his lady-o.
Why did you leave your new wedded lord
And your house and lands and money-o
To go and seek a roving life
All along with the raggle-taggle gypsies-o?
What care I for my new wedded lord
And my house and lands and money-o?
Tonight I’ll seek a roving life
All along with the raggle-taggle gypsies-o.
Last night she slept in a goose-feather bed
With the sheets turned down so bravely-o;
Tonight she’ll lie in the cold open field
All in the arms of the raggle-taggle gypsies-o.
What care I for a goose-feather bed
With the sheets turned down so bravely-o?
Tonight I’ll lie in the cold open field
All in the arms of the raggle-taggle gypsies-o.
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2. |
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ROUD 2: The Unfortunate Lass
Dm C Dm
As I was out walking one fine summer’s morning,
Dm F C Dm
As I was out walking one midsummer’s day;
Dm C Am Dm
I met a young female, all dressed in white linen,
Dm C Dm
Aye, dressed in white linen and as cold as the clay.
Oh mother, dear mother, come sit down beside me,
Come sit down beside me and hear me sad case;
For I’ve loved a soldier who has lately deserted
And he’s gone and he’s left me in shame and disgrace.
Oh daughter, dear daughter, why didn’t you tell me?
Why didn’t you tell me all of it in time?
I could have bought salt, aye, and pills of white margery
You’re a true-hearted girl, cut down in your prime.
Come doctor, dear doctor, and fill up your bottles,
Come fill up your bottles and make them quite dry;
For me bones they are aching and me heart it is breaking
In shame and disgrace I’m afraid I must die.
Have six jolly sailors to carry me coffin,
Have six jolly soldiers to sing me a song;
Have six bonny lasses carry bunches of roses
So that you can smell me as we roll along.
Then play your fife lowly and play the drum slowly,
Sing out the dead march as you go along;
Take me to the graveyard and throw the sods on me,
I’m a true-hearted girl but I never done wrong.
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3. |
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ROUD 3: The Seeds of Love
D G D
I sowed the seeds of love,
D G A
It was all in the spring,
D G G/F#* Em
In April, May and in June likewise
A G G/F#
While small birds they do sing.
A D
While small birds they do sing.
My garden was planted well
With flowers everywhere;
But I hadn’t the liberty to choose for myself
The flowers that I loved dear.
The flowers that I loved dear.
My gardener he stood by
And I asked him to choose for me.
He chose me the violet, the lily and the pink
But those I refused all three.
But those I refused all three.
In June there’s the red rosebud,
And that’s the flower for me,
For often have I plucked at the red rose bud,
Till I gained the willow tree.
Till I gained the willow tree.
Come all you false young men,
Don’t leave me to complain;
For grass that has often been trampled underfoot,
Given time, it will rise again.
Given time, it will rise again.
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4. |
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“Come riddle me, riddle me mother”, he said
“Come riddle me all alane o
It’s whither should I marry the dun broon bride
Or fetch fair Annie hame o?”
“The dun broon bride’s got horse and kye.
Fair Annie she’s got nane o.
And if you’ll tak your aul mother's advice,
You’ll bring the dun bride hame o”
He’s dressed himself all in the green
His merry men all in white o
And every town that they came by
They took him for some knight o
And when he’s reached fair Annie’s gate
He’s tirled low at the pin o
There was nane sae ready as Annie hersel’
Tae rise and let him in o
“What news, what news, Lord Thomas”, she said
“What news hae you fir me o?”
“I’ve come tae bid ye tae my wedding
And that’s sad news fir thee o.”
“Sad news, sad news indeed she said
The saddest you could tell o.
It’s gie sad news indeed”, she said
Should have been the bride hersel’ o
“Come riddle me, riddle me, mother”, she said
“Come riddle me all alane o
It’s whither should I gang tae Lord Thomas’ wedding
Or just now stay at hame o?”
“Lord Thomas he’s got freens enough.
Fair Annie you’ve got nane o.
And if you’ll tak yer aul mother’s advice,
You’ll just now stay at hame o”
“There’s mony there that are my friends
And mony more are foes o
But should I live or should I die
To the wedding I will go!”
She’s dressed herself all in the white
Her merry maids all in green o
And every town that they came by
They took her for some queen o
She’s four and twenty milk white swans
Atwixt her and the sun o
She’s four and twenty milk white steeds
Atwixt her and the moon o
And when she’s reached Lord Thomas’ gate
She’s tirled low at the pin o
There was nane sae ready as Thomas himsel’
Tae rise and let her in o
He’s taen her by the lily white hand
He’s led her through the hall o
He’s sat her down in a chair o gowd
Amongst her maidens all o
The up and spoke the dun broon bride
And it’s o sae bold says she o
“Whither did ye get thon watery flooer
That washed ye sae white o?”
Then up and spoke fair Annie hersel’
And it’s o sae bold says she o
“I got it in my mother’s ain womb
Where you never saw sich like o!”
The dun broon bride’s a wee pen knife
It hangs doon by her side o
She’s taen it through fair Annie’s heart
And ne’er a word she cried o
Lord Thomas he’s a gie broad sword
It hangs doon by his side o
He’s taen it through the dun bride’s heart
And ne’er a word she cried o
“It’s dig a grave!”, Lord Thomas he said
“It’s dig it wide and deep o
And bury fair Annie at my side
And the dun bride at my feet o”
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5. |
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ROUD 5: THE THREE RAVENS
Dm
There were three ravens on a tree
C Dm
Down, down
Dm
There were three ravens on a tree
C
Down
Dm F
There were three ravens on a tree
C Dm
They were as black as they might be
Dm F C Dm
With a down down derry down down
The one of them said to his mate...
Where shall we our breakfast take...
Down in yonder greeny field...
There lies a knight slain neath his shield...
His hounds they lie down at his feet...
So well they do their master keep...
His hawks they fly so eagerly...
There is no fowl come near him nigh...
Down there comes a fallow doe...
As great with young as she might go...
She lifted up his bloody head...
And kissed his wounds that were so red...
She got him up upon her back...
And carried him to an earthen lake...
She buried him before the prime...
She was died herself fore even-time...
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6. |
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ROUD 6: LONG LANKIN
Dm Gm A Dm
Long Lankin was a mason, good as ever hewed stone
Dm C A Dm
Built the Lord a fine castle, and pay he got none
Said the lord to the lady, as he mounted his horse:
Beware of Long Lankin that lives in the moss.
Let the doors be all bolted and the windows all pinned,
And leave not a hole for a mouse to creep in.
The doors was all bolted and the windows all pinned,
Except one little hole, where Lankin crept in.
Oh where dwells the lord, says cruel Long Lankin,
He’s away in fair London, said the false nurse to him.
Where’s the heir of this house? said Long Lankin.
He’s asleep in his cradle, said the false nurse to him.
We’ll prick him, we’ll prick him all over with a pin,
And then the fine lady will come down to him.
So he pricked him, he pricked him all over with a pin,
And the nurse held the basin for the blood to flow in.
O nurse, how you slumber. O nurse, how you sleep.
You leave my little son, to cry and to weep.
I’ve tried him with apples, I’ve tried him with a pear.
Come down, my fair lady, and rock him in your chair.
My lady came down, all a-thinking no harm.
Long Lankin stood ready to catch her bare arm.
There’s blood in the kitchen. There’s blood in the hall.
There’s blood in the parlour where my lady did fall.
Her maiden looked out from the turret so high,
And she saw her master from London riding by.
O master, O master, don’t lay the blame on me.
Twas the false nurse and Lankin that killed your fair lady.
Long Lankin was hanged on a gibbet so high
And the false nurse was burnt in a fire close by.
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7. |
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ROUD 7: SOVAY
Dm C Dm
Sovay, Sovay all on a day,
Dm C Dm
She dressed herself in man’s array
Dm C Am
With a sword and pistol all by her side
Dm F C Dm
To meet her true love, to meet her true love, away did ride.
As she was riding all over the plain
She met her true love and bid him stand:
Your gold and silver, kind Sir, she said,
Or else this moment, or else this moment, your life I’ll have.
And when she’d robbed him of his store
She said, Kind Sir, there is one thing more:
A golden ring which I know you have,
Deliver it, deliver it, your sweet life to save.
Oh that golden ring a token is;
My life I’ll lose, the ring I’ll save.
Being tender-hearted just like a dove,
She rode away, she rode away, from her true love.
Now next morning in the garden green
Just like true lovers they were seen;
He spied his watch hanging by her clothes
Which made him blush, made him blush, like any rose.
Oh what makes you blush at so silly a thing,
I thought to have had your golden ring;
‘Twas I that robbed you all on the plain,
So here’s your watch, here’s your watch and your gold again.
Oh I did intend and it was to know
If that you were me true love or no.
So now I have a contented mind
My heart and all my heart and all my dear is thine.
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8. |
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ROUD 8: THE BOWS OF LONDON
Em Am
There were two little sisters a-walking along, hey hey to the grinding
Am B7 Em
Two little sisters a-walking along, by the bonny bonny bows of London
The eldest pushed her sister in...
Pushed her sister into the stream...
Well she pushed her in and she watched her drown
Watched her body floating down
She floated up and she floated down
Down till she come to the miller’s dam
Out and out come the millers son
Father dear here swims a swan
They laid her out on the bank to die
A fool with a fiddle come riding by
He took some strands of her long yellow hair
He made some strings from that yellow hair
He made fiddle pegs from her long fingerbones
And he made a bridge out of her nose-bone
He made a fiddle out of her breastbone
The sound would pierce the heart of a stone
But the only tune the fiddle would play, was oh the Bows of London
The only tune the fiddle would play, was the bonny bonny Bows of London
So the fool’s gone away to the king’s high hall
There was music and dancing and all
And he laid the fiddle all down on a stone
It played so loud it played all alone
It sang yonder sits my father the king
Yonder sits my father the king
Yonder sits my mother the queen
How she’ll grieve at my burying
Yonder sits my sister Anne
It was she who drownded me in the stream
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9. |
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ROUD 9: THE CRUEL MOTHER
Dm C
There was a lady that lived in York
Dm
All alone and aloney
Dm F C
She proved a child by her own father’s clerk
Am Dm
Down by a greenwood sidey
She leaned her back against the oak...
She thought three times that her back would be broke...
She leaned her head against a thorn
There her three fine sons they were born
She pulled out her long penknife
And there she took away their three lives
Years went by and one summer’s morn
She saw three boys, they were playing bat and ball
Oh my fine boys if you were mine
Sure I’d dress you up in silk so fine.
Oh mother dear when we were yours
You did not dress us in silk so fine.
You pulled out your long penknife
And there you took away our three lives.
Oh my fine boys what will become of me
You’ll be seven long years a bird in a tree.
You’ll be seven years more a tongue in a bell
And you’ll be seven long years a porter in hell.
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10. |
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ROUD 10: LORD RANDALL
Am C
Oh where have you been, Lord Randall, my son?
G F
Oh where have you been, my bonny young man?
Am G
I’ve been to the wild wood, mother, make my bed soon,
E Am
I’m sick to my heart, and I need to lie down
What happened in the wild wood, Lord Randall, my son?
What happened in the wild wood, my bonny young man?
Oh I dined with my true love, mother, make my bed soon,
I’m sick to my heart, and I need to lie down.
What had you for your supper, Lord Randall, my son?
What had you for your supper, my bonny young man?
I had eels boiled in broth, mother, make my bed soon,
I’m sick to my heart, and I need to lie down.
Oh I fear that you are poisoned, Lord Randall, my son,
I fear that you are poisoned, my bonny young man.
Oh yes, I am poisoned, mother, make my bed soon,
I’m sick to my heart, and I need to lie down.
What’ll you leave your mother, Lord Randall, my son?
What’ll you leave your mother, my bonny young man?
My gold and my silver, mother make my bed soon,
I’m sick to my heart, and I need to lie down.
What’ll you leave your true love, Lord Randall, my son?
What’ll you leave your true love, my bonny young man?
A rope for to hang her, mother make my bed soon,
I’m sick to my heart, and I need to lie down.
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"A wonderful thing: an access point for all to music that spans the centuries" - Songlines Magazine
Songs based on the arrangements given in the book Sing Yonder Volume 1, available here:
karlsinfield.bandcamp.com/merch/sing-yonder-song-book-vol-1.
Bandcamp download includes 12 bonus versions of Roud 2: The Unfortunate Lass, recorded as part of the crowdsourced "Help Finish the Sing Yonder Album" project. Thank you to everyone who contributed!
All proceeds from the album are distributed between the artists - Sing Yonder does not profit from this album.
ABOUT THE ALBUM:
In late 2021, graphic designer and part-time folk musician Karl Sinfield decided to start seeking out, and where necessary creating, simple arrangements of traditional songs suitable for all abilities. Using basic chords and providing online audio guides, there’s no need to have the privilege of formal musical training for a beginner (or anyone) to start playing.
Choosing which songs to arrange was taken care of by Steve Roud, whose now ubiquitous Roud Index has become the standard way to refer to the 38000 (and growing) catalogue of traditional songs. As an erstwhile zine publisher, it seemed natural to produce small printed volumes of these arrangements in numerical order, complete with history and contextual notes, and thus, in early 2022, the Sing Yonder series of books was born, with volume 1 covering songs 1-10 in the Roud index.
This first volume was met with kind words from musicians amateur and professional, and it sparked the idea of an accompanying compilation album. Sinfield started asking his favourite folk artists if they might be interested in contributing, and to his great amazement and joy, they almost all said yes, and very quickly he had nine committed artists who had chosen a song to record. These songs were recorded in various locations and methods, from post-gig smartphone field recordings, to stolen time in studio recording sessions, giving a wide array of aural textures to the album.
For the final unclaimed track, Sinfield decided to test his theory that the songs were suitable for all by crowdsourcing the final track from anyone with a musical instrument (even if that was just a voice) and something to record it with. Twelve highly varied versions of The Unfortunate Lass (Roud 2) soon arrived, and one of these contributions was chosen to be included on the CD, with the others added as bonus tracks on the Bandcamp download album.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:
Thanks to the first person ever to see Sing Yonder, Jon Wilks, who, with some excellently timed kind words inspired me to drag this project blinking into the bright public gaze, and led me to this extraordinary point. It gave me the confidence to approach the amazing artists on this CD, each of whom have shown great generosity, not just with their music, but their constant unwavering support in the face of unavoidable delays and my own inexperience. I have found that if you try and create something involving traditional song, you will not be doing it alone. Not only are you building on voices and ideas from the past, you will soon be joined by keen friends and collaborators in the present, on whose shoulders you are carried from one song to the next. So, thank you Matt Quinn, Helen Lindley, Chris Orme, Eliza Carthy, Jon Boden, Piers Cawley, Alisdair Roberts, James Eagle, Lucy Shields, Kathy Barnes, Martin Purdy, Fay Hield and every other new friend who has shared their love of this deep and dark cultural goldmine with me.
