Collected from the singing of: Davids, RM; USA; no date (before 1930s) unknown sailor; Wales: Gower; no date Gillespie, James; Canada : Newfoundland; 1929 Anderson, Mrs. John; USA : Vermont; 1930 Moore, Annie Tate; USA : Maine; 1941 Peachey, Alf; England : Suffolk; 1960s Power, Anthony; Canada : Newfoundland; 1975 Cleary, Thomas; Ireland : Co. Wexford; no date
Modern performances Cyril Tawney, The Wolf Tones
Poets Box (Glasgow) 1873
Twas in the month of Janwery, away in the southern seas
That our ship lay at anchor near a choral reef, awaiting for a breeze;
The captain, he was down below, and the men were lying about
When from under the bows we heard a splash and then a regular shout,
Singing— Blow ye winds, heave ho ! blow ye winds heave ho!
Clear away the morning dew, and blow ye winds, heave ho!
Man overboard did the watch cry out, and forward all of us ran,
When we saw hanging on by the best bower chain, a jolly old buff merman ;
His hair was red and his eyes were green, and his mouth was as big as three,
And his long green tail that he sat upon, was a wagging down in the sea.
Hallo! cried our mate, as bold as brass, what cheer mess-mate, says he,
Oh! I must speak to your noble captain, I've a favour to ask of he
The captain then he came on deck, and looked on the water blue
Come tell me, my man, and as fast as you can, what favour I can do for you.
You've dropped your anchor before my house, and blocked up my only door,
So my wife cant get out for to roam about, nor my chicks, one, two, three, four,
It would break your heart to hear them groan, and the row they've had with me,
For I've been out all night at a small tea fight, at the bottom of the deep blue sea.
Says the captain, the anchor shall be hove at once, and your wife and chicks set free,
But I never saw a scale from a sprat to a whale, till now, that could speak to me;
Your figure-head's like a sailor bold, and you speak like an English man,
But how did get such a wonderful tail, come tell me that it you can.
Oh! a long time ago, from the ship Hero, I fell overboard in a gale,
And I found down below, where the sea-weeds grow, a lovely girl with a tail,
She saved my life, so I made her my wife, and my legs changed instantly,
For I married with a mermaid*, at the bottom of the deep blue sea.
* Almost certainly sung: "For I mar-ri-ed with a mer-mi-ed" to echo Lloyd's "Married to a mermaid"
A song with a borrowed chorus, first sung with these verses in the Halls of the late 1860s.
Arthur Lloyd sang the song as a sequel to his Married to a Mermaid, a song widely credited to the prominent Victorian novelist William Thackeray. The sheet music and contemporary newspaper notices for The Merman say it was written the same author – so perhaps we can tentatively credit this one to Thackeray also?
As I have only been able to access the sheet music cover, the words given above are from an 1873 broadside. The opening stanza of the broadside is identical to that found on the cover of the sheet music (left).
As Steve Gardham comments in one of the Mudcat threads below, the Blow ye wins chorus is a fairly common one and similar choruses can be heard in “later versions of the Baffled Knight and various shanties and sea songs”.
The song has been collected from traditional singers in Ireland, Canada, England and America. The order of the verses and the chorus vary but the basic story of sailor turned merman with anchor blocking his door, remain fairly constant throughout. It is a relatively well-known sea shanty, often listed with other songs under the name Blow ye Winds. In Stan Hugill’s Shanties from the Seven Seas its listed as Blow ye Winds (version b) with a chorus suggesting that you should Clear away yer runnin’ gear. Joanna Colcord in Songs of American Sailormen also lists it under Blow ye Winds, but has a diferent variation on the chorus, here are the first stanzas she collected:
Twas in the month of February way down in the Southern seas, Our ship lay at anchor near a coral reef while waiting for a breeze; Our captain he was down below, and the crew was lying about, When under the bows was heard a splash, and then come a terrible shout
Singing, blow ye winds of the morning, Blow ye winds heigh ho Heave the galley overboard, And chase the cook below-0w-0w, Oh, blow ye winds of the morning, Blow ye winds heigh ho, Clear away the morning dew And blow, my bully boys, blow
Collected from the singing of: Broadhead, Albert; England : Yorkshire; 1970
Dear face that holds so sweet a smile for me,
Were you not mine, how dark the world would be!
I know no light above that could replace
Love's radiant sunshine in your dear, dear face.
Give me your smile, the love-light in your eyes,
Life could not hold a fairer Paradise!
Give me the right to love you all the while,
My world for ever, the sunshine of your smile!
Shadows may fall upon the land and sea,
Sunshine from all the world may hidden be;
But I shall see no cloud across the sun;
Your smile shall light my life, till life is done!
An early 2oth century popular ballad that was sung and recorded by number of artists in the period before World War I. It subsequently has become a bit of a standard, with versions by Django Reinhardt, Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra. In the pre war British Halls it was sung by, amongst others, the family trio Olga, Elga and Eli Hudson.
It was collected from one late 20th-century traditional singer, but is not perhaps widely sung in folk circles..
Here’s a version by Sinatra when he was with the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra:
Harry Lauder and Gilbert Wells / Fred Elton and Harry Lauder
Roud
RN24152
Music Hall Performers
Harry Lauder
Folk performances
Collected from the singing of: Hutchison, Robin; Scotland; 1960-90
[SPOKEN] I am going to tell ye, I had a letter from my mither yesterday and she said in her letter that Somebody was asking very kindly for me and sends their love. Of course, I ken who that Somebody is – Maggie. Of course, you don't Ken Maggie. Well, Maggie lives beside my mither just a wee bit roon the hill, so that's why I'm going to tell you aboot Maggie's hoos. The wee hoos 'mong the heather
There's a wee hoose on the hillside that I haven't seen for years.
I've an awful longing feeling and my eyes whiles dim wi' tears
When I think on a' the happy days I spent beside that spot,
And the games we played as laddies there will never be forgot.
There's a wee hoose 'mang the heather; there's a wee hoose o'er the sea.
There's a lassie in that wee hoose waitin' patiently for me.
She's the picture o' perfection, O! I wouldna tell a lee.
If ye seen her ye would love her just the same as me.
Though A'm far awa' frae Scotland and the scenes I lo'e sae weel,
There's a beat for the auld country that in ev'ry pulse I feel,
For though other lands are bonnie and the other folks are kind,
There is one scene and one only that is ever in my mind.
One of a number of Harry Lauder songs which have entered the repertoire of Scottish traditional singers.
The poets since the war began have written lots of things
About our gallant soldier lads which no one ever sings
Although the words are very good, the lilt they seem to miss
But Tommy likes a tricky song, a song that goes like this.
Here we are, here we are, here we are again
There's Pat and Mac, and Tommy and Jack and Joe
When there's trouble brewing, when there's something doing
Are we down hearted? NO, let them all come
Here we are, here we are, here we are again
Fit and well and feeling as right as rain
Never mind the weather, now then, all together
Hello, Hello, here we are again.
When Tommy went across the sea to bear the battle's brunt
Of course he sang this little song while marching to the front
And when he's walking through Berlin, he'll sing the anthem still
He'll shove a 'woodbine' on and say, 'How are you Uncle Bill?'
And when the boys have finished up with Herman and with Max
And when the enemy's got it where the chicken got the axe
The girls will all be waiting midst the cheering and the din
To hear their sweethearts singing, 'As the ship come sailing in
A marching song from 1914 when songwriters were churning out jolly recruitment songs to encourage men to sign up to fight in the war. This one was a big hit for Mark Sheridan, who introduced it into his act in October 1914. The song was widely sung by the troops themselves, though they often changed the words – this version appeared in Tommy’s Tunes, a collection of soldiers’ songs first published immediately after the war:
Here we are, Here we are, Here we are again, Here we are, Here we are, Here we are again, We beat them on the Marne And whacked them on the Aisne, We smashed them up at Neuve Chapelle And we’re ready here again.
Sheridan did record the song, but I have been unable to find a freely available version, so instead here it is as recorded by Frederick Wheeler in approximately 1915:
Collected from the singing of: Lovett, Tom ; Ireland : Co. Kerry; 1982 Merdith, John; Australia : New South Wales; 1985
There's murder in the atmosphere,
There's earthquakes in the air;
Pat Hooligan, last Thursday,
Bought a mule down at the fair.
When he tried to put it in the shafts,
It smashed the cart to bits.
It chewed up all the harness,
And gave all the neighbours fits.
Oh, Hooligan, if ever you buy a mule a-gin,
You ought to be shot, you've gone off your dot,
You are a stupid fool.
It's killed a lot of people off,
Kicked the top of the steeple off;
If you want to die quick, just get a kick,
From Patsy Hooligan's mule.
They tried their best to coax the brute,
Inside the stable door,
They coaxed it with a crow-bar,
Till the poor old mule was sore;
Then Hogan said that kindness
To and animal was best;
He commenced to stroke the mule and now,
Hogan's gone to rest.
He chewed up all the tramway lines,
He smashed in all the roofs;
He killed a dozen p'licemen
With his eighty one tonne hoofs.
We held a public meeting
Down at Micky Doolan's school,
To discuus the best and safest way
To kill that murdering mule.
A Music Hall song from the late 1890s, popular throughout the English speaking world. Whilst the song mocks Irish stereotypes it seems to have been popular amongst members of the Irish diaspora and it passed into Irish and Australian traditional singing. It was originally written and performed by Lester Barrett
Sources:
Entries in the Roud Indexes at the Vaughn Williams Memorial Library: https://archives.vwml.org/search/all:single[folksong-broadside-books]/0_50/all/score_desc/extended-roudNo_tr%3A34686
Collected from the singing of: British and Australian Troops during World War 1 Modern performances The Fugitives
Original lyrics
'So he wants you to forget him,' says a grey haired man in tears
As he reads his daughter's letter still a girl of tender years
'He has left you for another who has crept into his heart
Forget him and forgive him 'twould be better so to part'
Then to his breast he takes her head as tenderly to her he said,
Though your heart may ache awhile, never mind
Though your face may lose it's smile, never mind
For there's sunshine after rain, and then gladness follows pain
You'll be happy once again, never mind.`
'In his love he may have faltered as his letter seems to say
There will be a bright tomorrow, darkest clouds will fly away
Time will be the wonder worker, though it's hard I know to part
He may tire of his new love and creep back into your heart
Love like pride must have it's fall, true love will conquer after all.
As parodied in the trenches (from John Mullen)
If the Sergeant steals your rum; never mind!
And your face may lose it smile, never mind!
He's entitled to a tot but not the bleeding lot,
If the Sergeant steals your rum, never mind!
When old Jerry shells the trench; never mind!
And your face may lose it smile, never mind!
Though the sandbags bust and fly, you have only once to die
If old Jerry shells the trench, never mind!
If you get stuck on the wire, never mind!
And your face may lose it smile, never mind!
Though the light's as broad as day, when you die they stop your pay
So if you get stuck on the wire, never mind!
If your mate just lost his sight, never mind
And he screamed the whole damned night, never mind
Though they'll send him home it's tough, he'll be great for blind-man's bluff
So if your mate just lost his sight, never mind*
If the Sergeant says your mad, never mind,
P'haps you are a tad, never mind,
Just be calm, don't answer back, 'cos the Sergeant stands no 'slack,'
So if he says you are mad, well... you are! Never mind.*
* Additional stanzas ,see blow
This tear jerker was a huge hit for Gertie Gitana in the early years of World War I, though she continued to sing it throughout her long career. Soldiers fighting in the trenches created and sang a particularly effective parody expressing their feelings about the war. I have provided the three stanzas given in John Mullen’s book with a fourth and fifth from other sources.
Gertie Gitana (1887-1957) started her career as a child star, using the name Little Gitana. She successfully developed a career as an adult performer, her billing changing she matured: she started as The Dainty Comedienne, later becoming The idol of the people and The Star who never fails to shine. She was an accomplished saxophone player and step dancer, though she was perhaps best remembered as a singer – the original performer of the anthem Nellie Dean. She was popular amongst the forces during World War 1, visiting the wounded in hospitals. Gitana had a long career, retiring in 1938 but returning in the late 40s and 50s to appear in Music Hall revival shows.
A version sung in the film Oh What Are Lovely War!
A lovely modern version by Vancouver folk collective, The Fugitives:
Collected from the singing of: Upton, Harry; England : Sussex; c1976
There's one day in each week that all men loves best
One day they fancy far more than the rest
I've no need to tell you, I can see you've all guessed
The day I allude to is Saturday
There's football for those who's fond of the sport
On that day the good things for Sunday are bought
Man finds his wife loves him far more than he thought
When he brings home his wages on Saturday
Why can't it always be Saturday?
Why can't it always be pay-day?
Oh, how happy we'd all be then
Wouldn't it suit all us working men
If it was always Saturday
Wouldn't we all be gay?
We'd have money to spend and money to lend
If Saturday came every day
[twice]
Just fancy a man who is fond of his beer
Gets one day's relief from monotony drear
He makes it the rule to get full up to here
Just one night a week and that's Saturday
If he gets run in he has nothing to say
But on Monday gets off from his work half a day
Appears at the Court and a fine has to pay
But he'll do just the same thing next Saturday
And sorrow and care to the wind he will fling
The rest of the week to himself he will sing:
There's one thing quite certain we'd ne'er have to call
At the shop where the three brass balls hang on the wall
In fact we'd have no need for pawn-shops at all
If every day was Saturday.
No one would be rich, no one would be poor
We'd have no occasion to run up a score
We've plenty of pubs; we should want a few more
If every day was Saturday
And such things as poverty we need not know
So all sing this chorus, wherever you go:
A song from the early 20th century, remembered 70 years later by traditional singer Harry Upton. It was originally performed in the Halls by JW Rickaby, whose brief biography appears below. Here’s a short view of his performance at Gatti’s (a London Hall) in 1901:
Gattis, The Era – Saturday 13 July 1901
JW Rickaby (1869-1929) was born to a military family and spent much of his early life in Manchester. He began his career on stage as an actor before turning to comedy in 1904. Billed as The Big Dry Comedian, he often sang his songs in character, for example as a policeman for one of his more famous songs PC 49, or as a battered “swell” for his song They built Piccadilly for me. He toured extensively in Australia where he was particularly popular
This song uses racist language and draws on stereotypes in a way that was commonplace at the time but is no longer acceptable today.
AKA
My girl …
First Published
1896
Writer/composer
Barney Fagan (adapted by Richard Morton)
Roud
RN21078
Music Hall Performers
Eugene Stratton
Folk performances
Collected from the singing of: Herrington, Delmar; USA : Tennessee, 1980 Macon, Uncle Dave; USA : Tennessee; 1926
Original US version
My Gal is a High Born Lady
(Barney Fagan)
Thar' is gwine to be a festival this evenin'
And a gatherin' of color mighty rare
Thar'll be noted individuals of prominent distinctiveness
To permeate the colored atmosphere;
Sunny Africa's Four Hundred's gwine to be thar
To do honor to my lovely fiancee,
Thar will be a grand ovation of especial ostentation
When the parson gives the dusky bride a way!
My gal is a high born lady
She's black but not too shady
Feathered like a peacock, just as gay,
She is not colored, she was born that way,
I'm proud of my black Venus,
No coon can come between us
'Long the line they can't out shine this high born gal of mine.
When the preacher man propounds the vital question,
"Does ye' take the gal' for better or for wuss?"
I will feel as if my soul had left my body, gone to glory,
And I know my heart will make an awful fuss,
I anticipates a very funny feelin'
Nigger's eyeball, like a diamond sure to shine,
But I'll bask in honeyed clover, when the ceremony's over,
And I press the ruby lips of baby mine)
As adapted for Eugene Stratton by Richard Morton:
There is gwine to be a festival this evening,
It's the most exclusive function of the year;
There'll be noted individuals of prominent distinctiveness
To permeate the coloured atmosphere.
Only black folks of the bluest blood will be there,
To do honour to my lovely fiancee-
There will be a grand ovation of especial ostentation,
When the parson gives the dusky bride away.
My gal is a high born lady
She's black but not too shady
Feathered like a peacock, just as gay,
She is not colored, she was born that way,
I'm proud of my black Venus,
No coon can come between us
They know she belongs to meThis high born gal of mine.
She's a wench that don't eat dinner with her fingers,
'Cept she asks to be allowed to pick a bone;
en she does it in a manner of remarkable refinery,
With her little finger cocked by way of tone.
When she promenades with Ma to Church on Sunday,
Folks can see she's in society indeed;
But she gives them a reminder, when she swings her skirts behind her—
'Deed, the movement's emblematical of breed!
She's a girl that's most punctilious in her habits,
First time she let me kiss her was to-day ;
When I tasted all the sweetness of her classic physiognomy,
I didn't want to tear myself away.
I declare to goodness I gets mighty flustered,
And I don't know if to cry or if to laugh,
To think she'll be my honey when I've paid the parson's money—
Such a lady for a dollar-and-a-half.
An American comic song from the late 19th century which based its humour on racist stereotypes of African Americans, at the time such songs were known as “coon songs”. The song was a huge hit throughout the English-speaking world, and a version for British Music Hall was written for UK audiences by Richard Morton. It was performed by blackface Music Hall comedian Eugene Stratton.
The song has been collected from traditional singers in America.
Collected from the singing of: Costello, Cecilia; England : Warwickshire ; 1967
There's a good time coming, boys
Later on - yes, in the future;
What a day of jubilation
When the king is crowned!
What with war and the price of sugar
Trade's been awful for the nation
But we're going to do our level best
To pull it round
For then we'll march along with flags and banners
With our Sunday manners
We will spend our tanners
Then on concertinas and pianos
We will play "God save the King!"
Oh! on Coronation Day, on Coronation Day
We'll have a spree, a Jubilee
And shout "Hip Hip Hooray"
For we'll all be merry, drinking whisky, wine and sherry,
All be merry on Coronation Day!
[Twice]
We're sure to take the Missis out
And the kiddies for a "beano"
Deck our windows and doorways
Out with "Union Jacks"
We'll illuminate the yard
With Chinese lanterns ha'penny candles
And in cloth "Red, White and Blue"
We'll dress our chimney stacks
And when the night-time comes we'll all endeavour,
Just to keep together.
Never mind the weather,
With a saucy smile and "peacock's feather"
We will tickle all the girls
Nobody will go to "by by"
Each one will be too excited,
All night we will keep it up,
And then will start again.
It isn't every day we get
A chance to praise a king and sportsman;
Briton's true sincerely hope
He had a glorious reign
In wine we'll toast each statesman and commander,
Who would never pander
To a pro-Boer slander,
And we'll bless our good Queen Alexandra,
Who is in dear to every heart
Songwriters AJ Mills and George Everard certainly churned out a lot of songs, and I can’t see a lot of quality control went into this one before it was published. I wonder how often it was actually performed by Charles Bignell? my searches in contemporary newspapers have not turned up any reviews of him singing it…
It must have had some degree of popularity as a parody of the chorus was remembered almost 70 years later by Cecilia Costello:
Collected from the singing of: Stewart, Lucy; Scotland : Aberdeenshire; 1960 Costello, Cecilia; England : Warwickshire ; 1967 Mills, Bob England : Hampshire : Winchester 1978 Bunn, Walter; England : Birmingham; 1987 Hall. Mabs; England : Sussex; 1989 Kane, Alice; Northern Ireland; early 20th century
Jack Dunn son of a gun over in France today*
Keeps fit doing his bit, up to his eyes in clay
Each night after the fight, to pass the time along
He's got a little gramophone that plays this song.
Take me back to dear old Blighty
Put me on a train to London Town
Take me over there, drop me anywhere
Birmingham, Leeds, or Manchester, well, I don't care
I should love to see my best girl
Cuddling up again we soon would be, Whoa
Tidley-idley-iti, hurry me home to Blighty
Blighty is the place for me.
Bill Spry started to fly up in an aeroplane
In France taking a chance, wished he was down again
Poor Bill feeling so ill, yelled out to pilot Brown
'Steady a bit, yer fool, we're turning upside down.'
Jock Lee having his tea, says to his pal Mac Fayne
'Look chum, apple and plum, it's apple and plum again
Same stuff isn't it rough, fed up with it I am
Oh for a pot of Aunt Elizer's raspberry jam.'
One day, Mickey O' Shea, stood in a trench somewhere
So brave, having a shave, trying to part his hair
Mickey yells (dodging the shells and lumps of dynamite)
Talk of the Crystal Palace on a fireworks night.
* [or]Jack Dunn strafing the Hun somewhere in France today
A song written for the Halls by the prolific AJ Mills , Bennett Scott and Fred Godfrey, it was widely sung by soldiers and sailors. It comes from a time when the songs of the Halls had started to move away from jingoistic recruiting songs. Whilst the songs of this period in no way reflected the full horrors of the fighting, they at least recognised that the battlefield was a place servicemen longed to escape from. The full and fascinating story of this song can be found on the excellent Fred Godfrey website.
Its one of the early 20th century songs that was not particularly associated with one performer.
It has been collected from several late 2oth century traditional singers – the Vaughn Williams Memorial Library has recordings of Bob Mills and Cecilia Costello singing it
