The Duncan McFarlane Band CD - 'All Rogues & Villains'

Botany Bay (Trad. Arr. D.McFarlane plus additional music D.McFarlane)
A fine Trad song with varying opinion on origin and many place names appearing depending on where you hear it sung.
I took the liberty of inserting passages from an instrumental of mine ‘Feeling the Ceiling’.
Apt really, Geoff and I have been guitar-sparring for 30 years together and that piece was on our first album together in 1977!
But the main purpose it’s in there is to give this poor vocalist a breather when we do the song ‘live’!
The musical journey to the Bay gets a good trade-wind blow from Steve’s melodeon left hand in the
extended (third) instrumental section! I love it! Tony being unavailable for a studio session or two,
I nipped in and grabbed the chance to play bass on this one! Sorry Tony! 

Come all you bold and rambling men a warning take from me
If you go night a-roving then shun bad company
It’s son, oh son, what have you done you’re bound for Botany Bay

I was born and bred in Anytown and raised most honestly
Then I became a roving lad it proved my destiny
Son, oh son, what have you done – you’re bound for Botany Bay

I broke into a stately house after the hour of three
Two guards were stood behind the door and they soon had a hold on me
Son, oh son, what have you done – you’re bound for Botany Bay

It was at the courthouse sessions the judge to me did say
The jury found you guilty you’re bound for Botany Bay
Son, oh son, what have you done – you’re bound for Botany Bay

Well I’ve seen my aging father there a-trembling at the bar
Likewise m’ dear old mother tearing her white hair
Son, oh son, what have you done – you’re bound for Botany Bay

It was on the twenty-eighth of June from England we made way
And as we passed the Weymouth Bridge I heard those sailors say
Son, oh son, what have you done – you’re bound for Botany Bay 

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Rakish Young Fellow - Roud 829, Sharp 228 (Trad. Arr. D.McFarlane plus additional music D.McFarlane)
I’m always envious of those able to say’ I learned this from the singing of….’
The nearest I can ever get to those grand old singers is to hear recordings made of them.
One much played source for me is a double CD of Harry Cox, ‘The Bonny Labouring Boy’ – my starting point for this song.
Okay, I own up to a boyhood obsession with Pirates! After growing up reading ‘classics’ like Treasure Island, Swiss Family Robinson, Swallows & Amazons – and slaked by Sunday Matinees in black and white on TV – there had to be a ‘Yo-ho-ho’ drawn out of me some time!
Popular with Victorian broadside printers - Walter Pardon's set is close to the printed versions - though not frequently collected, apparently. Cecil Sharp noted a couple of versions at the beginning of the 20th century and Elizabeth Bristol Greenleaf included
a set in her Ballads and Sea Songs of Newfoundland, published in 1939.

My ship she is lying at anchor I’ve arrived safely on shore
God bless me for now I’ll give o’er I’ll not go to sea anymore
I am but a rakish young fellow I never took care of my life
I’ve sailed the oceans all ov’r in every port I found a wife (singing)
Yo ho ho -oh-oh-oh

I have sailed through stormy weather travelled though hot and through cold
I ventured my life on the ocean I ventured it all just for gold
So send for my friends and relations for two or three gallons of beer
We’ll drink to our wives and to sweethearts, drink to them, everyone here

And when I am dead and I’m buried oh send for a good cask of rum
I’ll never go sobbing and sighing just drink up until it’s all gone
I’ll never go sobbing and sighing but just one last favour I crave
Wrap me up in my tarpaulin jacket and fiddle and dance round my grave

Get six jolly young men to carry me, let them all get roaring drunk
And as they are bearing me onwards let them all fall down on my trunk
And there shall be laughter and singing like so many men who’ve gone mad
Give each one a drink o’er my coffin saying here’s to a jolly young lad

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Band O’ Shearers (Trad. Arr. D.McFarlane)
Learned from the singing of an Otley FC stalwart, one Ian Hill; if I’ve got this right, he’s a North-Easterner of Irish descent
that more than raised an eyebrow that this Yorkshire resident - a Midlands-born nomad of Scottish descent
– had never heard the song before! This version based on the one from the Willie Scott Songbook.

When summer days and heather bells
Come reelin ower yon high, high hills
There's yellow corn in a' the fields
And autumn brings the shearin'

Bonnie lassie, will ye gang
And shear wi' me the hale day lang?
And love will cheer us as we gang
Tae join yon band o' shearers

And if the weather is o’er hot
I'll cast my cravat and my coat
And shear wi’ ye among the lot
As we join yon band o’ shearers.

And if the thistle be ower strang
An' pierce your lily, milk white hand
It's wi' my hook, I'll cut it doon
As we join yon band o’ shearers.

An' if the folk that's passing by
Say there is love 'tween you and I
O we will proudly pass them by
Tae join yon band o' shearers.

When the shearin' is a' done
An’ slowly sets th’ evenin’ sun
We'll hae some rantin', roarin’ fun
An' forget the toils o' shearin'.

So bonnie lassie, bricht and fair
Will ye be mine forever mair?
If ye'll be mine, then I'll be thine
We'll gang nae mair tae th’ shearin'.

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Bed of Straw (D.McFarlane)
In the Yorkshire Evening Post publication 'Memory Lane Volume Two' I saw a photo of two skulls and read the
accompanying paragraph which stated....
‘In Crown Court, an alleyway between Kirkgate and the Corn Exchange in Leeds there are two stone skulls set
high on a wall of a former stable. These are to commemorate two men who were press ganged (crimped) into
the army at the time of the Peninsula war (1803-14). They were locked overnight in a stable where they sank,
all too comfortably, into a bed of straw and suffocated’. Further research revealed….
They were asphyxiated by the ammonia gas given off by the rotting hay and the military authorities had the
skulls carved and placed on the building “pour encourager les autres”
The stone skulls, once on the walls on Ion Dyson Ltd, were removed in 1974 when the firm moved to
Buslingthorpe and they incorporated them in the wall there – two miles out – and to rather an inappropriate
setting and location in my opinion!

You revellers, drink your beer rally round, come listen to me
Come over and lend an ear it’s all of a bed of straw
Two travellers came to town rally round, come listen to me
In a tavern did sit down by the fire to keep warm

Ch. God bless this army, God bless this war
God bless the sergeant for he gave ‘em a bed of straw

To Leeds they came that day rally round, come listen to me
Lookin’ for work, somewhere to stay, hungry and weary and cold
Suddenly up a shout rally round, come listen to me
Hurry on boys ‘Crimpers’ about , some of ‘em comin’ this way

Jump up boys, it’s time to go rally round, come listen to me
The sergeant says ‘You’ve been too slow, we’re lookin’ for fellas like you.
We need you in foreign lands rally round, come listen to me
He’s pressed a shillin’ into their ‘ands, nothin’ these fellas could do

From Kirkgate they were marched a-right rally round, come listen to me
Locked in a stable for the night, all on a bed of straw
They left ‘em with ale and bread rally round, come listen to me
Says Jack ‘At least we’re warm and fed, the King’ll take care of us now’

Mornin’ come they found ‘em there rally round, come listen to me
They’d sunk right in, were lost for air, all in a bed of straw
Now high on a wall is found rally round, come listen to me
Two skulls of stone starin’ down, look for a bed of straw

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Spadge (D.McFarlane)
I used to get House Sparrows in my garden. Used to, but no longer!
A few years back I read an article in my quarterly RSPB magazine which discussed reasons for their decline in the UK.
There was also a poem by one John Marshall. I remembered various phrases for some time and built the lyric round
that memory, hope that’s OK John? Wherever you are, I owe you a pint at least!
Some of the old names for ‘sparrow’…. (England) spadge, spadger, spug, spuggy, sprog, spadgick (Orkney) sprog, speug, sparrag, sporrow; (Shetland) spuggie, sparky, spjugg, sporra, sporrow; (Middle English) sprewe; (Old English) sparwa, spearwa
Oh, a fank is a sheep pen (enclosure)

There were those I knew never had a song
From clad-ivy walls & eave they would raise their young
Puddle-fluttering fun, after dust bath play
They’d fall on grain we’d spill in our working day.

Old friends, once so familiar, so close to everyone
Where have they gone? Where have they gone?
The widespread, once abundant - it seems their time has flown
What have we done? What have we done?

Not so long ago - In the ripening corn
They’d rise up ahead in flocks as you walked along
From the town-crowd pave or the midden high
In a swirling, chattering throng they’d pass you by

‘Tween the new sew-stacks and the old mill door
Where once new-threshed we’d drag the sheaves of straw
From the paddock fank to the urban sprawl
From wood to city street can you hear them call?

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Anna Morrison / Karine / Atholl Highlanders (D.McF / D.McF / Trad. Arr. D.McF)
Anna was a 4/4 instrumental written to try and recreate the kind of tunes my dear departed Auntie Anna (Morrison)
used to play me on her piano accordion when I was a wee lad up in Scotland. She was a grand player! Bless.
Later, working at a school, a French Mistress (not my mistress I must point out!) had me ‘make up’ a piece
on guitar for her students during a ‘form period’. The class asked for the title and I (silver tongued as ever)
told them it was called after her, Karine (LeBot) – yep a French Mistress in an English school that was actually French!
I never realised for some time that I’d merely written a variation of Anna M in 6/8. What a numpty!
Atholl High was added to the set after re-listening to an old Swarb recording.

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Lord Franklin (Trad. Arr. D.McFarlane plus chorus from ‘North West Passage’ - Stan Rogers Arr. D.McFarlane)
Lady Franklin, some versions call it; certainly, the last verse is her thoughts put into words. The narrative also has one verse apparently from an ordinary seaman dreaming concerning the ill-fated Lord.
I’ve added Stan’s chorus after singing along with it that way at a Nottingham Folk Club way back; seemed very appropriate. 
Sir John Franklin set out to find the Northwest Passage in 1845 - skeletons were found in 1859.

We were homeward bound one night on the deep
Swinging in my hammock I fell asleep
I dreamed a dream and I thought it true
Concerning Franklin and his gallant crew

With a hundred souls on board we sailed away
To the frozen ocean in the month of May
To seek a passage around the pole
Where we poor sailors do sometimes roll

Through cruel misfortune they vainly strove
Their ships on mountains of ice were drove
Where the Eskimo with his skin canoe
He was the only one that could ever come through

In Baffin's Bay where the whale fish blow
The fate of Franklin no man may know
The fate of Franklin no tongue can tell
Lord Franklin among his sailors do dwell

And now my burden it gives me pain
For my long lost Franklin I would cross the main
Ten thousand pounds I’d freely give
To know that here on earth my Franklin do live

Ah for just one time I would take the Northwest passage
To find the hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort Sea
Tracing one warm line through a land so wild and savage
And make a northwest passage to the sea

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The Lowlands of Holland (Trad. Arr. D.McFarlane)
Annie gets a run out at lead vocalist once more. Not before time!
One of the songs we first learned together and always a great ‘live’ gig favourite.

The love that I have chosen and therewith be content
Oh the salt sea shall be frozen before that I repent
Repent it shall I never until the day I d’e
But the lowlands of Holland has twined my love and me

My love lies in the salt sea and I am on the side
It's enough to break a young girl's heart that lately was a bride
But lately was a bonny bride with pleasure in her e'e
The lowlands of Holland has twined my love and me

My love has built a bonny ship and set her on the sea
With seven score good mariners to bear her company
But there's three score of them is sunk and three score lost at sea
And the lowlands of Holland has twined my love and me

My love has built another ship and set her on the main
Wi’ nane but twenty mariners all for to bring her hame
But the weary wind began to rise, the sea began to roll
And my lover and his bonny ship turned withershins around.

Then shall nae a quiff come on my head nor comb come in my hair
And shall neither coal nor candlelight shine in my bower mair.
And neither will I marry until the day I d’e
For I never had a love but ane and he's drowned in the sea.

Oh haud your tongue my daughter dear, be still and be content
For there's men enough in Galloway, thou need n’ sair lament.
Oh there's men enough in Galloway, alas there's nain for me
For I never had a love but ane and he's drowned in the sea.

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The Sheepstealer (Trad. Arr. D.McFarlane plus additional music D.McFarlane)
Henry Hammond collected a version of The Sheepstealer from Edith Sartin of Corcombe Dorset.
I picked it up from an old vinyl LP ‘Nonesuch for Dulcimer’ by Roger Nicholson
(credited sung by none other than a pre-Steeleye 'Robert Johnson' I believe) which was on Leader Sound Ltd,
Trailer LER 3034 - released in 1972 I think!
Being meddlesome-me, I had to insert new sections of music; the band, being the band, had to rock it up some!
I also took the liberty of changing the bulk of the proceedings from a 3/4 or 6/8 feel into basic 4/4

I am a brisk lad but my fortune is bad
And I am most wonderful poor
But now I intend my fortune to mend
And to build a house down on the moor me brave boys
And to build a house down on the moor

In my meadow I'll keep fat oxen and sheep
And a neat little nag on the downs
In the middle of the night when the moon to shine bright
There's a wonder of work to be done me brave boys
There's a wonder of work to be done

I'll ride all around in some other man's ground
Take a fat sheep for my own
And I'll end of its life with the aid of me knife
And then I will carry her home me brave boys
And then I will carry her home

My children will pull the skin from the ewe
But I'll be in a place where there's none
If the Constable come I will stand with m’ gun
And swear all I have is my own me brave boys
And swear all I have is my own

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Mary Read (D.McFarlane)
Here, in just one lady's past, was the lyric of several traditional folk songs - all rolled into one.
I save the full story to tell at gigs, but..... To cut it short....
Raised by her mother as Mark, a boy, to fool her absentee Sea-Captain father, Mary eventually ran off and lived life to the full
as a sailor, soldier, publican (during which time she lived briefly as a woman for the first time when a young soldier had taken
a shine her/him while in the army), sailor again - then pirate!
Captured and condemned to hang along with her pirate companions (lovers?) Anne Bonny and Captain Calico Jack Rackham, the two ladies were given temporary stay of execution as both were pregnant - Jack wasn't so lucky!
Mary made a statement in court saying hanging was right and proper justice without which honest men
could not make a living on the seas. (Her own words virtually wrote the chorus for me).
Her baby was soon born and Mary died of a fever shortly afterwards, escaping the noose after all.
Big thanks to Ellie (Cambs) for sending me the lady’s story with the suggestion I might write about Mary.Thanks, Ellie!

Is evening come? Heave away, haul away
The setting sun draws veil upon the day
My time is done - Heave away, haul away
The tide has run - Haul away my day

No hardship great to bear - For were this never there
All rogues and villains would so unfit the sea
Then men of courage would starve - This I could never have
Now help my child to stand up tall and think of me

When I was young - Raised as her son to live a lie each day
Away I ran - Became a man
Of love I learned - Loved in return - yet always lost my way
So long I fought - All come to nought

Is evening come? Heave away, haul away
The setting sun draws veil upon the day
My time is done - Heave away, haul away
My tide has run - Haul away my day

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Rawfold’s Mill (D.McFarlane)
This is based on a true account from Luddite Riots near Cleckheaton, West Yorkshire. I read about it in 'Tales from West Yorkshire' by Leonard Markham. I got ‘nabbed’ at a gig by a ‘local’ to the area that insisted I pronounce ‘Hightown’ as ‘Eetown’!
I also had the pleasure of being booked as guest at a folk club, some time after writing it, in the very pub – the Star at Roberttown – allegedly haunted by those that died there. Oddly enough, the lights there flickered on and off as I performed the song! 

Times were hard and desperate, new machines installed
And loss of work and poverty was all their future held
One secret night in Hightown Spen Valley men did swear
To smash the water-powered devils there in Rawfold’s Mill

They heard of new deliveries, transport wagons came
They ambushed them at Hartshead, wreaked havoc on the frames
And spurred on by victory another aim in sight
Their mind was set all out attack by night on Rawfold’s Mill

The mob charged at the mill now where once they’d been employed
Hurled stones into the windows and fired through the voids
They overcame the sentries then tried to break the door
But withering musket volleys put two men to the floor at Rawfold’s Mill

They dragged the wounded to an alehouse, pulled them both inside
There in the Star at Roberttown first Hartley, then Booth, died
So Cartwright he gave evidence, his battle being won
And William Hall and sixteen more were tried and they were hung for Rawfold’s Mill

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Cuckoo’s Nest/Big Ship (Trad. Arr. D.McFarlane)
Our Steve often set off on this tune set at sound checks, we’d all join in (eventually)
– and so we happened on a chance to let folks hear him to the fore - for once! Yay!

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A-Begging I Will Go (Trad. Arr. D.McF plus additional music & a lyric rewrite - D.McF)
I performed this one-vox-one-guitar on my first solo album. I hadn’t done my homework properly at the time and hadn’t twigged the major rewrite Guv’nor Carthy had given it. So for this version, having gone back to the earliest recorded lyric
(and seen just why Martin had revamped it!) - I set about my own rewrite.
My last verse was written originally as.....
 ‘you’ll see me everywhere…..not a Big Issue to the state, but a thorn to Mister Blair’
I was trying to maintain Mr C’s trend (he gave Thatcher a mention). But I’ve recently had to alter it to….
‘you’ll see me round the town…..not a Big Issue to the state, but a thorn to Mister Brown’?
 It’s going to need an occasional update then?

Of all the trades in England beggin' is the best
For when a beggar's tired he can sit him down & rest

Beggin I will go and a-begging I will go

Ina doorway I will pass the night for there I pay no rent
Providence does provide for me and I am well content

I tread the paving of City Square 7 o’clock till one
Then round the back of McDonald’s to scavenge whatever I can

I target women or children, I hassle you passers-by
& I've a bottle of cider hid to drink when I am dry

I've bin begging 4 many a year, money is rollin’ in
Folk they give much more now I’ve a mongrel tied to a string

I still have a go in rain or snow but mostly when it’s fine
I graft away for hours a day to feed this habit of mine

I’m a modern day institution you’ll see me round the town
Not a ‘Big Issue’ to the state but a thorn to Mister Brown

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(Take me down to) Robin Hood’s Bay D.McF - Plus Mrs Macleod’s Reel Trad Arr D.McF
The band has a real soft spot for the Bay – especially for drinking down at the foot of the hill in the Dolphin before starting gigs
at the Grosvenor, back up at the top. As we invariably booked accommodation, therefore negating the spectre of driving,
we soon found the trek (up and down the hill) one much better accomplished with this – our ‘drinking song’!
The lyric for this is a moveable feast – there are verses specially for Christmas – and other occasions!
This particular composite of verses benefited from an expression gleaned from a chap (eating at the next table to us)
at Cleckheaton Fest 07 – the band were having an Italian meal before our gig there and heard him use it!
Cheers matey – Whoever you are - we owe ya a pint! 

Take me down to Robin Hood’s Bay
Take me down, roll me down
Take me down to Robin Hood’s Bay
And roll me down the hill

When we get to Robin Hood’s bay….
Push a pint of ale my way….
When we’ve had a pint or two....
I would like another from you....

Oh, roll me down me boys, roll me away

When we’ve had a pint or three....
I suppose you’d like another from me?
When we’ve had a pint or four….
Somebody tell me – which way’s the floor?

Oh, roll me down me boys, roll me away

When y’r sense and y’r speech and y’r legs are gone....
And y’ can’t lie down wi’out holdin’ on.....
When you’re there with a great big grin….
And y’r lights are on but nobody’s in!

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So why the ‘noises off’?
The ‘away’s and ‘hey’s and ‘ho’s that keep appearing throughout are the typical stage yelps that I use to ‘conduct’ the band onstage ‘live’. When we recorded our first album, many a fan moaned that the songs didn’t sound the same without these ‘trademarks’.
We recorded the songs ‘live in the studio to get as much down in one take as poss – Anne, Geoff, Tony
and myself playing along with Nick for the most part – and, where Tony was absent, with me on bass.
We’d record my vocal as a guide on each track– and, while most of it was discarded later for a full vocal run through,
we left in these relevant ‘yips’.

Instrumentation: To expand on the credits given on the album itself…..
Geoff and I tussled for bragging rights over who would play most instruments on the recordings….
Tony being unavailable for a studio session or two, I nipped in and grabbed the chance to play bass on
Botany, Spadge, Mary Read & Atholl High (though not on the first two tunes of that set – Anna & Karine)
Sorry Tony!
Geoff then turned up with my cittern (he’d kept it at his house for two years!) so once he’d recorded his contribution on it
- and stupidly left it at the studio – I made sure I ticked the list for one more by putting some cittern on too.
Blow me down if he didn’t turn up to play mandolin (quite unexpectedly) on R H Bay!
Not to be outdone, I sneaked in on electric guitar by craftily doing the odd harmony-guitar insert
when he was away – using his gear too! Hah!
As it happens, a last minute afterthought during the mix-down sessions had me play mandolin through
the last time round of each tune on the Cuckoo/Ship set. The artwork had already been sent off for print
by then! The Captain won, then - hands down! (sic!)

Robin Hood’s Bay – Pub reprise
Our ‘Woodshed’ album tailed off with an unaccomp version of ‘Goodnight Song’ – where we got a few mates
into the studio to make it an informal sing-a-long.
This time, we thought we’d maintain the ‘tradition’ we established by having a sing-a-long from
a few more ‘fans’ and a shout or two from Otley Folk Club landlord (at ‘Korks’) Chris.
Numpty (me) should have taken a picture or two of those that turned up on the night – and a list of names!
I’ll add to this list as and when they ‘reveal’ themselves to me over the next months…..
Bernie, Babs S, Sue S, Dave S, Alan, Eric S, Mike W, Longdog Mike (who travelled an hour and twenty mins on the train to be there!), Kay, Dave, Heather, Pam, Max
- eek – I must rack m’ brain more – loads missing! Please email me if you were there & I'll add you – thanks - Duncan

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The Duncan McFarlane Band CD ‘Woodshed Boys’ – Complete lyrics & ‘embellished’ sleeve notes for the album.

  Bring Em Down - Trad. Arr. D.McFarlane
I‘d only heard one version of this before setting it up for the band via my Eight-Track at home.
Only Steve knew it as a shanty. After we recorded it, I played ‘em my Pint and Dale CD. Jaws dropped!
Oh, and Ally Hulett and I tweaked the lyric some! Ali Russell and Ally H belted out some additional vocals to the band’s efforts
for the hook line – Ali R actually providing an ‘echo’ of the hook in two part harmony that we just couldn’t decide
whether to use or not.
Thankfully the ‘cut’ was made for us by an oversight on ‘saving’. Many of the extra vocals were housed on a separate device.
Now do I blame the computers? Or shall we call it pilot error?
’Rock apes’, a derogatory term for ‘shore patrol’ or Military Police on Gibraltar -
A reference to the Barbary apes that the Rock’s famous for.
Interesting to have the phrase ‘rock and roll’ (the ship’s sea-going motion?) in the original lyric
– way before the 1950’s and not a motorbike or quiff in sight!

In Liverpool I was born
Kingston Town my home from home
Learned my trade on the Blackball Line
They’re never a day behind their time - Bring ’em Down
It’s around Cape Stiff we go
Fightin’ on through the ice and snow
Along the coast to Valipo
Northward on to Callio - Bring ’em Down

Callio girls I do adore
They steal your soul come back for more
Callio girls with their long black hair
They’ll rob you blind and strip you bare - Bring ’em Down
When I was young and in my prime
I’d fight them Rock Apes two at a time
Now I’m old and turning grey
It’s rum that beats me every day - Bring ’em Down

We’re in Desolation Bay
Hangin’ around from day to day
Blow you winds long may you blow
Rise up y’ bugger and let us go Bring ’em Down
All the way to Liverpool
Spent my money like a bloody fool
Spend my money in a week on shore
Then go to sea and grab for more Bring ’em Down

Back at home we vote ‘em in
They serve you lies and call it spin
While we work they turn the screw
It’s easy and slow for the chosen few - Bring ’em Down
I’m Liverpool born and bred
Thick in the arm, boys and thick in the head
Rock and roll me over boys
Let’s get this damn job over boys - Bring ’em Down

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Can’t Go There - D.McFarlane
Is there anyone out there that hasn’t felt this way after that one drink too many?
There’s always lots of nodding in agreement in the clubs when I pre-amble this one
- and lots of ladies looking to the man at their side!
Ali & Ally augmented our vocals once more.

Now some of you here are just like me
Out of control when you shouldn’t be
Every now and then take a liberty
Can’t go there anymore
You talk from the heart, shoot from the hip
Would  have gone better with a lot less lip
One of these days you’ll get a grip
Can’t go there anymore

Ch. I’m always one to speak my mind
A few home truths can be unkind
And I can’t go there - now I can’t go there
But I can’t go there anymore

I’ve got to slow down, take a little time
Someone else is talking but the words are mine
I could work it out better if I’d had less wine
I can’t go there anymore
Been as uncool as man could be
Shown ‘em a side that they really shouldn’t see
Tried to escape with dignity
And I can’t go there anymore   Repeat Ch.

I try to hang on to every friend
So few left that I didn’t offend
This sort of display won’t buck the trend
Now I can’t go there anymore
Drunk too much - had me fun
Spoiled the night for everyone
Still unaware of everything I’ve done
Can’t go there anymore   Repeat Ch

Now some of you here are just like me
Out of control when you shouldn’t be
Every now and then take a liberty
Can’t go there anymore
You talk from the heart, shoot from the hip
Would  have gone better with a lot less lip
One of these days you’ll get a grip
Can’t go there anymore   Repeat Ch

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Dee Jig - D.McFarlane – it’s an instrumental – no lyric then!
I could say this was inspired by a lovely part of scenic Scotland, by Anne’s home town.
But let’s play fair! It’s a jig, and it’s in D!
The band have a mneumonic for some of the sections to help ‘em remember how they go.
The first one goes ‘We are the Wombles of Wimbledon Common’ – the second section and third I’ll not print here!
Perhaps when you see us live, you might just catch us mouthing the words we let rip at each other during rehearsals!

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The Woodshed Boys  - D.McFarlane
        Harry                   Walter
I was present at a festival ‘ interview’ where Tim Laycock and Chris Sugden told the tale that Harry Cox was banished to his woodshed on his own whenever he wanted to sing and play- His wife not wanting to hear that nasty folk music in the house.
In that outbuilding, he played his part in maintaining the tradition, undiscovered, for some twenty or more years.
Not too far away, they said, Walter Pardon and relatives practiced in an outbuilding too.
But they had each other - and plenty of ale by all accounts!
Now I can’t remember who said which line – and Chris told me (when I stalked him at a concert) that he can’t recall the conversation at all! But this how I heard it. . . . .
’What a boy-band they could have formed if only they’d known about each other’
 ‘Yes’ quipped the other ‘they could have called themselves the Woodshed Boys.’
Bing!!! That light bulb appeared above my head and I scribbled the words down on my festival programme straightaway.
More Ali & Ally vocal help on this one.
’What will become of England’ – a reference to a Harry Cox CD – go get it!

So where’d you learn to sing that way?
Where’d you hear those songs you play?
All the words I hear you say
We owe ‘em to the Woodshed Boys
And all the tunes you join in on
Were saved by generations gone
Tradition serving up her song
We owe ‘em to the Woodshed Boys

Ch. The Woodshed boys, the Woodshed Boys
‘You can’t sing here – can’t stand the noise’
All the songs we still enjoy
We owe ‘em to the Woodshed Boys

We’ve lasses all in sailor blue
Poacher’s bold and ploughboys too
Tokens matched and fond adieu
We owe ‘em to the Woodshed Boys
Where’er you be I’ll have you say
From Yarmouth Town to Botany Bay
O’er the hills or far away
We owe ‘em to the Woodshed Boys  Repeat Ch.

Where’d you learn to sing that way?
Where’d you hear those songs you play?
All the words I hear you say
We owe ‘em to the Woodshed Boys
And who will take the mantle when
The cycle must begin again
What will become of England then?
Who will be the Woodshed Boys?  Repeat Ch.

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Canadee-I-O - Trad. / D.McFarlane
The definitive version, for me, is on the wonderful Nic Jones’ Penguin Eggs album. It’s no secret I’m a HUGE fan of his! I wouldn’t want to attempt an acoustic version after that, so here's an electric one.
The original tune housed in the track is mine – still untitled!

It’s of a fair and handsome girl – she’s all in her tender years
She fell in love with a sailor boy – it’s true she loved him well
For to go off to sea with him – like she did not know how
She longed to see that seaport town called Canadee-I-O

She bargained with a young sailor boy – it’s all for a piece of gold
Straightway he led her down – all into the hold
Saying I’ll dress you up sailor’s clothes – your jacket shall be blue
You’ll see that seaport town called Canadee-I-O

Now when the other sailor’s heard the news – well they fell into a rage
And with the whole ship’s company – they were willing to engage
Saying we’ll tie her hands and feet me boys – overboard, her, we will throw
She’ll never see that seaport town called Canadee-I-O

Now when the captain he’s heard the news – well he too fell into a rage
And with the whole ship’s company – he was willing to engage
Saying she’ll stay all in sailor’s clothes – her colour shall be blue
She’ll see that seaport town called Canadee-I-O

Now when they came to Canada – scarcely above half a year
She’s married this bold captain – he’s called her his dear
She’s dressed in silks and satins now – she cuts a gallant show
She’s the finest of the ladies down in Canadee-I-O

Come all you fair and tender girls – where so ever you may be
I’ll have you follow your own true love – when he goes out on the sea
For if the sailors prove false to you – well the captain he may prove true
You’ll see the honour she has gained from the wearing of the blue

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Benjamin Bowmaneer - Trad. / D.McFarlane
Tailors were often ‘figures of fun’ in old songs -  the estate agents of yore perhaps? I learned this song after listening to Eliza Carthy’s Red Rice version – a stark voice and piano only. Beautiful.
 It’s the only version I’ve ever heard – so I’ve no idea what brought this rendition on!
 The original extra tune I added (untitled yet again) was scrapped when the band pointed out I’d ripped off a part of Led Zep’s ‘Stairway to Heaven’ - so the present one emerged hastily!
I must confess, I didn’t think the second attempt was as good as the first – now I can’t even remember how the original effort went.
The ‘flea’ mentioned, was supposed to be a put-down of Napoleon’s small stature – and ‘casters away’ a reference to beaver(?)-skinned hats being tossed in the air in a joyous hurrah! There’s a fair bit of speculation on Mudcat if you’d like to search it out.
We started playing this just as Bush and Blair threw us all into conflict. Hmmmm.

Have you heard how the wars began - Benjamin Bowmaneer
Have you heard how the wars began - Casters away
Have you heard how the wars began - when England fought to a man?
And proud tailor rode prancing away

Of his shear board he made a horse - Benjamin Bowmaneer
Of his shear board he made a horse - Casters away
Of his shear board he made a horse - for him to ride across
And proud tailor rode prancing away

Of his scissors made bridle bits - Benjamin Bowmaneer
Of his scissors made bridle bits - Casters away
Of his scissors made bridle bits - to keep the horse in his wits
And proud tailor rode prancing away

As the tailor rode o’er the lea - Benjamin Bowmaneer
As the tailor rode o’er the lea - Casters away
As the tailor rode o’er the lea - he spied a flea on his knee
And proud tailor rode prancing away

Of his needle he made a spear - Benjamin Bowmaneer
Of his needle he made a spear - Casters away
Of his needle he made a spear - to prick that flea through his ear
And proud tailor rode prancing away

Of his thimble he made a bell - Benjamin Bowmaneer
Of his thimble he made a bell - Casters away
Of his thimble he made a bell - to ring that flea’s funeral knell
And proud tailor rode prancing away

Was this how the wars began - Benjamin Bowmaneer
Was this how the wars began - Casters away
Was this how the wars began - when England fought to a man
And proud tailor rode prancing away

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The Twohey Step - D.McFarlane – here again, being an instrumental – no lyric here either!

We’ve usually opened our live sets with this since this band’s first gig with the present line-up in Jan ‘02. We’d previously done two gigs before that, but only Anne, Geoff and myself were on board until then. The band has been stable ever since - ‘cause we’re all mates, love one another, and (above all) this music lark is pure FUN to us.

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Oh Dear Me (Jute Mill Song) - Mary Brooksbank
Oor Anne is Dundee born and bred, and Mary holds a special place in her affections.
I understand that Mary (or her estate) never got anything for this piece despite it being recorded by many – and even that ‘someone else’ has the rights registered (with what claim?).
I do hope that the mess is sorted – and that something will eventually be received by her estate, or perhaps ploughed back into Dundee in some way. My apologies for attempting to spell it how it sounds.

Oh dear me the mill’s gaein fast
An’ the pair wee shifters canna get a rest
Shiftin’ bobbins coorse and fine
They fairly mak y’ work fer yer ten an’ nine
An’ it’s Oh dear me the world is ill-divided
Them that works the hardest are the least provided
But I mon work the harder, dark days are fine
Tae feed an’ claethe ma bairnies affn ten an’ nine

We love to have Anne sing this as a lead into. . . .

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Our Own Hands - D.McFarlane
Thanks Ally H  inspired me to approach lyrics from a different angle.....Something I’ll try to build on.
Ally H and Ali R contribute to the vocals again – Ali R with the high part (ouch!).
I particularly like the free roaming ‘Oh, oh, ohs’ from him on the last time round.

Stand beside me brother, sister, stand along with me
Shoulder to my shoulder side by side
Time to work together time to make a stand
Our fate held firmly in our own hands

Oh link arms with me sister, brother, sing along with me
We can make things happen if we try
So much latent energy here at our command
Our fate held firmly in our own hands
Oh, Oh, Oh - Oh, Oh, Oh
Our fate held firmly in our own hands

Oh those who hold the money, those who wield the power
For centuries they’ve had it all their way
They will get what’s coming if they step onto this land
We’ve our fate held firmly in our own
Oh, Oh, Oh - Oh, Oh, Oh
Our fate held firmly in our own hands

Ah we have the resources, we have all the skills
But most of all, each other – you and me
Time to grasp the nettle, seize the firebrand
Our fate held firmly in our own hands
Oh, Oh, Oh - Oh, Oh, Oh
Our fate held firmly in our own hands

Ah stand beside me brother, sister, stand along with me
Shoulder to my shoulder side by side
Time to work together, time to make a stand
Our fate held firmly in our own hands
Our fate held firmly in our own . . . . . .

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A Jug Of This - Trad. / D.McFarlane
Just because there’s more than one song on this CD on the subject, don’t get the idea that the demon drink
plays a large part in our lives - just A part - that’s all - honest!
Once again, the band has been very cruel about my added tunette (untitled again, how lazy can one get?),
but this time I’ve stuck with it!

Ye mariners all as you pass by
Come in and drink if you are dry
Just call your drinks and think not amiss
Stick your nose in a jug of this

Ye tippler’s all if you’ve half a crown
You’re welcome all for to sit down
Just call your drinks and think not amiss
Stick your nose in a jug of this

My father told me when I was small
Now you drink this son or not at all
and he held me up, my hand in his
And let me taste a jug of this

When I am old and can scarcely go
With a long grey beard and a head that’s bald
Crown my desire fulfil my wish
A pretty young girl and a jug of this

And when I’m in my grave and dead
All my sorrows have passed and fled
Transform me then into a fish
And let me swim in a jug of this

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Maria’s Gone / Sir John Cope - both are Trad. arr. D.McFarlane
          Sir John Cope arriving at Prestonpans
This song has gone full circle - I heard it on Australia’s Margaret Walter’s solo CD, ‘Power in a Song’. She learnt it from the singing of the excellent Peter Bellamy. Anne B played me a few tunes when I needed inspiration for the instrumental break.
I chose Johnny Cope (A part) immediately. The very dab as ma Grannie  used to say!
Margaret has chastised me via email for including another tune at all. I tried various arguments to justify it – she won’t have any of it! Sorry M – it’s in there now. And I didn’t tell her of the wee lyric addition. Eek! Still love me, M?

Ch.(which repeats BEFORE each verse)
Mornin’s come, Maria’s gone
It’s early in the morning

O she’s gone and I can’t go
And it’s early in the morning

Never did I know her mind
And it’s early in the morning

Troubled, troubled is my mind
It’s early in the morning

Trouble, trouble is my name
And it’s early in the morning

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Jigalo - D.McFarlane
Yet another instrumental – Yep! You got the idea by now!
Geoff and I originally recorded it this (on vinyl!) back in ‘77 - and John Peel played it on his BBC Radio One show – as we performed under the name ‘Luigi Anna da Boys’, he introduced us as a bunch of itinerate waiters from Leeds if I remember correctly.

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Goodnight Song - D.McFarlane
On which Maggie Boyle shines! Two vocal parts and flute from her on this.
’There aren’t enough Parting Songs’ she said (as she left)!
We close this album with not a sad song, but a song of hope.
Come and see us some time, we’ll be happy to see you too.

And so the time has come
The evening at an end
We must say farewell and go as friends
It seems only right to say
What wond’rous sheer delight
To share such moments here with you tonight

Ch. May you always be happy
Make the most of each new day
May you all help one another on the way
May your journey seem shorter
Than the one that brought you here
May you soon lie in arms of those that you hold dear

We’ve weaved a tale or two
And all have played their part
We’ve sung to raise the rafters from the start
So at this closing hour
Not knowing where or when
One chorus more and we may we meet again  ..... Repeat Chorus - a few times!

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Recorded at Pravda Studios, Leeds, West Yorkshire Jan 2004
Engineer - Matt Peel
Produced by Matt with interference from Rod Holt & The DMcFband

The DMcFband are:
Geoff (now this is a particularly nice wine)Taylor - electric guitar
Nick (the ferret) Pepper – drums & hums
Tony (Norman Castle) Rogerson - bass guitar
Anne (a little more in the monitor please?) Brivonese - fiddle & vocals
Steve (have you ever considered a job in the media?) Fairholme - melodeon & vocal
Duncan (sausage fingers*) McFarlane - acoustic guitar, cittern & vocals

*thus shouts Geoff EVERY time he hears a wee mistake ‘live’ from me!

Our very special guests on this CD are:
Maggie Boyle, Alistair Russell, Alistair Hulett

Our ‘Goodnight’  Drinking-up-time ‘choir’ were Maggie B, Ali R, Ally H,
Anne B, Duncan McF, Steve F, Jim Lawton, Pamela McF and Kaye Brown

Footnote
I just know there’ll be some pedants that will take a few things on the album to task.

Re-writing any part of a trad. lyric seems to knot knickers for some.
Is it OK to do so? Well, anyone who might read the early written versions of a song such as ‘Begging Song’
will find it greatly differs from the re-write given it by Martin Carthy. 
And let’s not forget, those early written versions themselves may have had a tweak when put to paper!
Anyway, the Guv’nor's ploughed the course for us. We'll follow in his wake.

Next, the question of ‘credits’.
I’ve put Trad. Arr. D.McFarlane in some cases and Trad. / D.McFarlane in others. 
I’m not trying to claim any part of writing a Trad song in the latter case. 
It’s merely that there are original tunes of mine wedged in somewhere to form instrumental sections.
I thought of naming them, but on visualizing the titles reading....
‘Canadee-I-O/Ship’s Biscuit or Hard Tack’ - Trad arr D.McFarlane / D.McFarlane (for example)
....decided things might look a little neater, take up less space, and be a little clearer overall
when written on the CD cover if I just stuck to the ‘main’ title.

Finally....
(though that’s tempting fate I guess! - I always remember Steeleye’s wonderful sleeve note regarding the chap
that burst in their dressing room with ‘Oim afraid you’ve got the wrong toitles fur da toons’) 
.....there’s the revamping of songs in the way we’ve done ‘em. Have we done a bad thing?
Take the first track for example – a sea shanty with that typical line-and-response thing going on. We don’t do it in that, more usual, manner! Out go the responses ‘tween every line. No kind of statement being made – we just used the song as a template to head off on a different tack.
We don’t see this version as a replacement for the tried and tested at all. I look forward to attending a sea-shanty session at a festival near me this summer, where I will belt out the accepted trad format with gusto and verve with everyone else
– Thus, I hope, helping preserve the tradition the way some prefer it. Our attempts are merely to run parallel with others.
Not your cup of tea? – fair enough.
If in any way even one soul, that wasn’t into folk (particularly trad) music before, is drawn to explore it further - because our way was closer to the musical style that they prefer – then that’s a result!
I love the Tradition – I sing and play many trad songs in several local folk clubs – acoustically!
And will continue to do so whilst I have the capability – this electric stuff is just there ‘as well’ – don’t take it too seriously.
Most of all, for us, it’s just bloody good fun!

May you always be happy…… Love – Duncan McFarlane

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Lyrics as recorded on DMcF’s CD 'Bed of Straw' - released Sept '01
With exceptions…. ‘Anderson’s Coast’  by John Warner, and ‘Talking with my father’ by Dougie Maclean are not mine to reproduce; they are on the CD but I haven’t put the lyrics on here.
 ‘K1’ is an instrumental – so no lyric – obviously!

Bed of Straw (D.McFarlane)

In the Yorkshire Evening Post publication 'Memory Lane Volume Two' I saw a photo of two skulls and read the accompanying paragraph which stated...
In Crown Court, an alleyway between Kirkgate and the Corn exchange in Leeds there are two stone skulls set high on a wall of a former stable. These are to commemorate two men who were press ganged (crimped) into the army. They were locked overnight in a stable where they sank, all too comfortably, into a bed of straw and suffocated.
It transpires a second version was printed in the actual YEP in the eighties in a nostalgia section under the heading ‘Settle That Argument…’ where a Mr M.A. Green, Moseley Wood Walk, Leeds wrote in to ask 'What happened to the skulls which were once to be seen on the walls of Crown Court, near Leeds Corn Exchange, and what was the legend?'
The reply supplied by the newspaper read....
The stone skulls, once on the walls on Ion Dyson Ltd., were removed in 1974 when the firm moved to Buslingthorpe and they incorporated them in the wall there. Legend has it that at the time of the Peninsula war (1803-14) many soldiers were stationed here and some were billeted at the Crown Inn, opposite the Corn Exchange. Warned that they were about to be drafted to the Peninsula, two soldiers hid themselves in the hayloft of the reconditioned building the skulls were later to adorn.
They were smothered by the hay and the military authorities had the skulls carved and placed on the building “pour encourager les autres”
Not quite the same, but close. Anyway, my version of the tale is thus...

You revellers, drink your beer – rally round, come listen to me
Come over and lend an ear – it’s all of a bed of straw
Two travellers came to town – rally round, come listen to me
In a tavern they did sit down – by the fire to keep warm

Ch. God bless this army – God bless this war
God bless the sergeant for he gave ‘em a bed of straw

To Leeds they came that day – rally round, come listen to me
Lookin’ for work, somewhere to stay – hungry and weary and cold
Suddenly up a shout – rally round, come listen to me
Hurry on boys ‘Crimpers’ about – some of ‘em com’ this way

Jump up me boys, time to go – rally round, come listen to me
The sergeant says ‘You’ve been too slow – we’re lookin’ for fellas like you.
We need you in foreign lands – rally round, come listen to me
He pressed a shillin’ into their ‘ands – nothin’ these fellas could do

From Kirkgate they were marched a-right – rally round, come listen to me
Locked in a stable for the night – all on a bed of straw
They left ‘em with ale and bread – rally round, come listen to me
Says Jack ‘At least we’re warm and fed – the King’ll take care of us now’

When mornin’ come they found ‘em there – rally round, come listen to me
They’d sunk right in, were lost for air – all in a bed of straw
Now, high on a wall is found – rally round, come listen to me
Two skulls of stone a-starin’ down – look for a bed of straw

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The Famous Floating ‘B’ (D.McFarlane)

The government of 1778 decided to send 300 women convicts from the overcrowded gaols
of England to the newly established penal colonies in Australia where the exclusively male population were becoming increasingly unruly! The women were allowed to bring men on board at each port they stayed at on the journey. They used every opportunity to earn money to set themselves up for their new life. The ship therefore became known as The Floating Brothel!
I heard the story of the Lady Julian – first ship to carry such a cargo – in a book review on ‘Women’s Hour’ (BBC Radio 4). I went out, bought and read the (excellent) book – ‘The Floating Brothel’ by Sian Rees – this song was the result.

Now I’m just an honest sailor – and I’m bound for New South Wales
And we carry the strangest cargo there – since I ever did hoist a sail
From the rankest cells of England – overcrowded as they be
From Warwick, Reading and Newgate gaol they’ve shipped ‘em off to sea 

Ch. Now some men think they’re lucky – but none so lucky as me
Three hundred women & thirty-five crew – on the famous floating ‘B’
Now some men think they’re lucky but they’d all change place with me
On the sleeping shelves of the orlop deck - on the famous floating ‘B’ 

There was many a debtor or coiner- or thieving serving maid
And at least four score or even more – of the oldest working trade
Well the judges showed no mercy – ignored the heart-felt pleas
sent 'em for transportation – To 'Parts Beyond The Seas' 

Well we packed ‘em in at London – even more in Plymouth Bay
Seven months they stayed aboard our ship – before we sailed away
To Tenerife and then Cape Verde – to Recife and Rio too
They’d a good, long stay, made the locals pay – what else were they to do? 

So we made our way to Cape Town – it’s the ‘Tavern of the Seas’
Then the Lady Julian ploughed her course – on the roaring forty breeze
And we rounded to Port Jackson – dropped anchor in the foam
It's taken a year to bring ’em here – for a brand new start and home

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Boys of Bedlam (Lyric, Trad. Tune, Dave Moran/Nic Jones - Arr D.McFarlane)

Which I first heard (and learned) from Steeleye Span's 'Please to see the King' in my last sixth form year! Even though it's the only version I ever heard (my rock years intervened) I've always loved the tune and I couldn't resist trying it out in the guitar style I'd begun to develop over the last two years. I've never heard a solo artist do it - or even an acoustic version! Trad words, but the tune isn’t traditional, it was put together by Halliard members Dave Moran & Nic Jones!

For to see mad Tom of Bedlam ten thousand miles I’d travel
Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes for to save her shoes from gravel 

Ch. Still I sing bonny boys, bonny mad boys – Bedlam boys are bonny
For they all go bare and they live by the air – and they want no drink nor money

I went down to Satan’s kitchen for to get my food one morning
And there I got souls piping hot – all on a spit a-turning

Me spirits white as lightning would on me travels guide me
The moon would shake and the earth would quake – when ever they espied me

And when that I got murdered – the man in the moon to a powder
His staff I’ll break and his dog I’ll shake – then I’ll yell demon louder

For to see fat Tom of Bedlam ten thousand miles I’d travel
Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes for to save her shoes from gravel

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Say You'll Never Leave Me (D.McFarlane)

Say you'll never leave me
Tell me that you'll stay
Never let me down or let mere words get in our way
I think that you've heard all this before
But you know I love you more, so say you'll never leave me
Tell me that you'll stay

Tell me that you want me
Say you'll never go
Tell me all the things I long to hear but I'm last to know
Give me one more chance just give me time
I only want to make you mine, so tell me that you want me
Say you'll never go

I can't believe that you'd walk away without a word
I'm too scared to open up my eyes

Tell me that you need me
Tell me that it's love
Tell me that it's only me that you've been dreaming of
I can't stand a day without you near
I just fade away when you're not here, so
Tell me that you want me
Tell me that you need me
Say you'll never leave me
Tell me that you'll stay

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Begging Song (Trad. Arr M.Carthy & also D.McFarlane)

Of all the trades in England the begging is the best
For when a beggar’s tired he can lay him down and rest

Ch. And a begging I will go and a begging I will go

I got on a train at Carlisle - they kicked me out at Crewe
I’ve slept on every paving stone from there to Waterloo 

I got breakfast on the embankment – I got my lunch and tea
And only the finest cardboard - made a home that was fit for me

We sit on the stair in City Square from seven o’clock till ten
Then round the back of the Hilton - for dinner from out of the bin 

I can rest when I am tired and I heed no master’s bell
Humanity daft to be a King when beggars live so well 

The law came down to see us – they came down three together
They put out the fire – they left us there – O Lord how we did shiver 

I am a Victorian value – you’ll see me everywhere
I’m not a big issue to the state – but a thorn to Mister Blair

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The Americans Have Stolen (Trad. Arr D.McFarlane) 

The Americans have stolen my true love away
And I in old England no longer can stay
I will cross the briny ocean - oh on my sad breast
To find out my true love - who I do love best 

And when I have found him - my joy and delight
I’ll be constant unto him - by day and by night
I will always prove as constant as a true turtle dove
And I never will in no time prove false to my love 

When meeting is a pleasure but partings a grief
And an inconstant lover is worse than a thief
For a thief he will but rob you - take all that you have
But an inconstant lover brings you to the grave 

The grave it will rot you and bring you to dust
There’s not one in twenty pretty ladies can trust
For they’ll kiss you and court you and swear they’ll prove true
And the very next morning they will bid you adieu 

Come all you pretty maidens wherever you be
Don’t settle your mind on yon sycamore tree
For the leaves they will wither - and the branches will die
And you’ll be forsaken - you will know not for why

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The Devil and the feathery Wife (Trad. Arr D.McFarlane) 

Now there was a farmer lived over the hill and a poor old fella they say
He was plagued by hunger and a scolding wife and the worst of his fortune that day
But as he cut wood in the forest one day between dark doom and despair
The devil himself he popped out of a bush and he stood before him there

Oh what is the matter the devil he cried you look so discontent
Haven’t you got any money to buy your food or to pay your landlord’s rent
What would you give me the devil he cried if I should end your debate
And I gave you money and gear enough so you’d never more want for meat
But I’ve nothing to give you the old man cried – I’ve nothing right here to my hand
But if you would do what you say for me – then I’d be at your command 

Right then, I’ll make you a bargain the devil he cried –it’s a bargain you just couldn’t miss
You bring me a beast at seven years end – and I’ll try and say what it is
But if that beast I name a-right you mark what I do tell
You’ll have to toddle along with me for to view the ovens of hell 

So the old man trusted and prospered well – it was all gained and spent
Till he came to the end of seven long years – sorely he did lament
Oh what is the matter his wife she cried – you look so discontent
Sure, you’ve got some silly young girl with child – making you sore lament

No, I made a bargain with the devil he cried – it was a bargain I just couldn’t miss
I’ve got to bring him a beast at seven years end – he’s got to say what it is
But if that beast he names a-right – you mark what I do tell
I’ve got to toddle along with him for to view the ovens of hell
Oh never you worry his wife she cried for your cattle you’ll keep and your feed
For the wit of a woman it comes in handy at times in an hour of need 

Go fetch me the droppings from all of our chickens and lay them all over the floor
And naked I will strip myself and roll in it over and all
And fetch me the basket of feathers she cries of the geese that we had for our tea
And I’ll roll and I’ll roll all over in them – till never an inch be free 

So she rolled & she rolled in feathers & droppings from her head right down to her navel
By Christ, he says what an ‘orrible sight –you look far worse than the devil
And when the devil himself came in  - he started to steam and to hiss
By Christ he says  - what an awful sight – I’m damned if I know what it is 

Well’ he started to shake and he started to quake –says have you more of these at home
Oh yes, he cries – I’ve got seven more - that in my forest do roam
If you’ve got seven more of these beasts – that in your forest do dwell
I’ll be good as my bargain and I’m off home for she’s worse than the demons of hell

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The Snow It Melts The Soonest (Trad. Arr D.McFarlane)
Lyrics collected by Thomas Doubleday in 1821 from a street singer in Newcastle, England 

O, the snow it melts the soonest when the winds begin to sing
the corn it ripens fastest when the frosts are setting in
And when a woman tells me that my face she'll soon forget
Before we part, I’d wager all, she is sure to follow yet 

The snow it melts the soonest when the wind begins to sing
And the swallow skims without a thought as long as it is spring
But when spring goes, and winter blows, my lass, an I'll be fain
For all her pride, to follow me, were it ‘cross the stormy main 

O, the snow it melts the soonest when the wind begins to sing
The bee that flew when summer shined, in winter cannot sting
I've seen a woman's anger melt between the night and morn
And it's surely not a harder thing to tame a woman's scorn 

O, never say me farewell here -no farewell I'll receive
For you shall set me to the stile, and kiss and take your leave
But I'll stay here till the woodcock calls, or nightingale takes wing
Since the snow aye melts the soonest, lass, when the wind begins to sing

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Barrack Street (Trad. Arr D.McFarlane)

I like listening to, and writing songs, that tell a tale. This song is a great story, and that make's it instantly a winner in my book. It's just up my (Barrack) street. Probably my second favourite track off 'Penguin Eggs'. There's a Barrack Street less than a mile from home here in Leeds - and I considered 'dressing-up' in a woman's shirt and apron for a photo by the street sign for the website. Haven't had the bottle yet - but who knows!

You sailors all come to lend an ear - Come listen to me song
A trick of late was played on me - and it won’t detain you long
I come from sea the other day - and a girl I chanced to meet
O me friends will be expecting me to a dance in Barrack Street 

So I said my young fair maid - I cannot dance so well
Besides I am to Windsor band  - where all me friends do dwell
I’ve been to sea these past two years - I’ve saved up thirty pounds
Me friends will be expecting me - this night in Windsor town 

Well of you cannot dance me love - then you shall stand a treat
Have a glass or two of brandy - and there’s something for to eat
At six o’clock this evening oh - I’ll meet you off the train
So don’t forget to give a call - when you come to town again 

At eight o’clock that evening then - the drinking did begin
And when we all had drunk our fill - the dancing did begin
Me and me love danced all around  - all to a merry tune
She says me dear let us retire - to the chamber all alone 

So the dancing being over – well, to bed we did repair
And there then I fell fast asleep - for truth I do declare
Me darling with me thirty pounds, gold watch and chain had fled
And left me here poor Jack alone - stark naked in bed 

So I looked all around me and - there’s nothing I could spy
But a woman’s shirt and apron - all on the bed did lie
I wrung me hands and tore me hair - crying Oh what shall I do?
Fair you well sweet Windsor town - I’m sure I’ll never see you 

Well everything being silent - and the hour but 12 o’clock
I put on me shirt and apron - and I steered for Cronin’s wharf
The captain says now Jack I thought - you were to Windsor bound
You might have got a better suit - than that for thirty pound 

I might have got a better suit - if I’d have got the chance
I met a girl in Barrack Street - she took me to a dance
I danced me own destruction - now I’m stripped from head to feet
And swear that I will go no more – down on Barrack Street 

So all of you young sailor lads – a warning take from me
And beware of all your company - when you go out on a spree
And keep you clear of Barrack Street or else you’ll rue the day
In a woman’s shirt and apron all – they’ll rig you out to sea

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 For The Ladies (D.McFarlane)

It can get so cold on your own
I know this feeling just like winter
As I watch and wait by the window, the voices linger on.

They all sing their songs for the ladies
From the heart I hear them cry
They all sing their songs and the ladies sigh.

If I ever catch you alone I know it's only for a moment
Soon we both will be together
Our bodies move as one.

They all sing their songs for the ladies
From the heart I hear them cry
They all sing their songs and the ladies sigh......

They all sing their songs for the ladies
From the heart I hear them cry
They all sing their songs for the ladies
From the heart I hear them cry
If they can sing their songs for the ladies
Why can't I? 

If I ever catch you alone I know it's only for a moment.....

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Three Drunken Maidens (Trad. Arr D.McFarlane)

This was on a vinyl LP I had back in college ('72?) T'was Tim Hart and Maddy Prior's 'Summer Solstice' 
- it's sort of stuck in there and never gone away! 
Only after working my way into C modal tuning in recent years have I got round to finding a way I can play it! I wish I'd not lost the LP somewhere over the years. Traded it in for 'pence' along with so many albums at a shop opposite the fForde Grene pub in Leeds when I was struggling to make ends meet having run off from college without finishing! Can't remember the shop's name - but many a student (or poor person) used to trade-in their favourites there out of need! Anyone out there know the name? Anyone out there got a copy? I'd really like to hear it again - especially one track that I can only vaguely remember - 'Cannily, Cannily' - I believe - though the spelling might be wrong.

There were three drunken maidens came from the Isle of Wight
They drank from Monday morning, nor stopped till Saturday night
When Saturday night did come me boys, they would not then go out
These three drunken maidens they pushed the jug about 

Then up comes bouncing Sally, her cheeks as red as a bloom
Jump up you jolly sisters - give young Sally some room
For I’ll be your equal before the tweed go out
These four drunken maidens they pushed the jug about

There’s woodcock and pheasant there’s partridge and hare
There’s all sorts of dainties – no scarcity was there
There’s forty quarts of beer, me boys – they fairly drunk them out
These four drunken maidens they pushed the jug about 

But up comes the landlord – he’s asking for his pay
It’s forty pounds the bill, me boys – these girls is forced to pay
That’s ten pounds apiece, me boys – but still they wouldn’t go out
These four drunken maidens they pushed the jug about 

O where are your feathered hats – your mantles rich and fine
They’ve all been swallowed up, me boys, in tankards of good wine
And where are all your maidenheads you maidens frisk and gay
We left them in the alehouse – we drank them clean away