New Album out on 28th May 2017

Pre-order from Proper Records here

Now with BBC Radio 2 airplay!

Listen to the radio edit of Winter Winds here

As heard on The Folk Show, BBC Radio 2!

TRADarrr

Listen to the radio edit of Winter Winds here

 

Pre-order from Proper Records here

It’s revolutionary – it’s a revolutionary folk-rock album. It’s been a long time since a new kind of sound has come up and, for me, I can’t stop playing it, I just love it.

Dave Pegg

 

The album is a definite progression - the musicianship is top-notch.

Ashley Hutchings MBE

TRADarrr

New album for 2017

 

Further Tales of Love! Death!

and Treachery!

 

Released on Proper records here

and available at gigs NOW!

 

 

The second studio album from TRADarrr

 

 

  1. Winter Winds
  2. The Crafty Lover
  3. Dream Not of Love
  4. Rap Her to Bank
  5. Lowlands of Holland
  6. The Golden Vanity
  7. The Drowned Lover
  8. The Bonny Lass of Anglesey
  9. The Cuckoo's Nest
  10. The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington
  11. Madame Bonaparte/The Golden Eagle
  12. Spencer the Rover

 

Review

FRUK

 

May 2017

 

If Fairport Convention’s Liege and Lief marked the first, full, glorious flowering of English tradition based folk rock in 1969, the 48 years since have seen the genre suffer mixed fortunes. Fairport themselves, along with many lesser mortals, began to find greater inspiration in their own song writing rather than the English traditional canon. Others, whilst keeping the familiar folk rock instrumental mix, brought things full circle, tapping into the font of North American music that had, in part, been Fairport’s muse pre-Liege and Lief. By 2014, feeling there was still much to be explored in the marriage of the English tradition with 21st Century instrumentation and musical genres, P J Wright and Mark Stevens were stirred into action. One by one, friends were invited into the studio to record and by November the material that became the album Cautionary Tales had been assembled. Only then did the notion of a band to tour the material begin to take shape and, to quote Marion Fleetwood, “after a lot of badgering”, TRADarrr was born.

 

Fast forward to early 2017 and TRADarrr have assembled a second batch of 11 songs and an instrumental set to give us Further Tales of Love, Death and Treachery. It’s a product of musicians who now clearly identify themselves as a band. No guest cameos from the likes of Chris Leslie and Dave Pegg, of the nine musicians on the album, seven make up the TRADarrr that will perform at festivals and gigs over this summer and beyond. P J, Mark and Marion along with Gregg Cave and Guy Fletcher were all at the core of the first album. They were joined for gigs in 2015 by Gemma Shirley and, this year, by Tim Harries. The remaining two, Mark Jolley and Phil Bond, were part of the 2015 lineup, contribute to tracks on Further Tales, but have now moved on.

 

Further Tales of Love, Death and Treachery opens with Winter Winds. Not to be confused with the Mumford and Sons song, the lyrics are from a broadside ballad of undisclosed provenance whilst, in common with all the album’s tracks, there’s additional material and arrangement credited to specific band members, in this case, Gregg Cave and Mark Stevens. Gregg takes lead vocal with lyrics bemoaning the pains of loves that don’t last, he’s joined for one verse by Marion, their voices blending splendidly and giving us a hint of many more vocal pleasures to come. TRADarrr is well equipped with singers, both Gemma and Guy also take lead vocals and just about everyone contributes to backing vocals as needed. This opening track also gives a first taste of the many varied arrangements this talented collection of musicians can devise. Mind you, as album producer and with probably the widest ranging instrumental skill set, Mark Stevens deserves to be singled out. In addition to his regular seat behind the drum kit, which extends to bodhran and dumbek, he adds organ, keyboards with programming, cornet, acoustic guitar and autoharp. On Winter Winds, from the opening chords, the organ provides a swell of sound underpinning PJ’s electric guitar work, subsiding to give Gregg’s voice and acoustic guitar a clear run at the first verse. Returning behind the chorus, a pattern is set that repeats and builds throughout the song.

 

Mark’s mariachi-flavoured cornet was a surprisingly successful component of a couple of arrangements on TRADarrr’s first album and his cornet features on almost half of Further Tales’ tracks. We have to wait, though, until Rap Her to Bank, the fourth track, and then there’s no hint of mariachi in the sound. A song from the coal mining areas of N.E. England, it starts with solo cornet evoking the silver bands that were such a feature of pit village life. Joined by organ, PJ’s electric guitar and eventually pedal steel, the combination gives a suitably soulful backing to the song. Originally recounting an old miner’s last shift before retirement, now, with an extra final verse, written by Pete Scrowther, it’s also a eulogy for UK coal mining and, in Pete’s words, communities brought to their knees by politicians’ malice.

 

With Marion, Gemma and Guy all contributing fiddle and Marion also bringing in viola and cello, TRADarr has the capacity to get positively symphonic with their string arrangements. They’ve largely resisted the temptation after all this is folk rock, though on Dream Not of Love do we find passages with strings prominent behind the vocals. This is, however, Marion with her one-woman string section, multi-tracking fiddle, viola and cello. The lyrics, from the early 19th Century Northamptonshire farm labourer turned poet John Clare, are handled mainly by Marion with the soft, silky voice she does so well. Gregg takes the middle verse and they join for the closing sequence, two very different voices that merge brilliantly, it’s easy to see why they duo together as Fleetwood Cave.

 

Marion and Gemma duet on Lowlands of Holland in a setting that has its roots in Martin Carthy’s take on the song. The track opens, however, with the melody from The Water is Wide, somewhat adapted for Mark’s cornet, and played over a wash of sound from the programmed keyboards. Voices take over from the cornet, first Marion, joined by Gemma after the first verse, and we’re treated to a duet that raises goosebumps of pleasure. The full set of lead vocals is completed on the next track by Guy taking on The Golden Vanity, given a middle section from one of his fiddle and mandolin tunes, Brace and Auger.

 

The three fiddlers finally get to play together accompanying Gemma’s vocal on The Drowned Lover, along with Gregg and PJ on electric guitars. Here, and elsewhere, PJ also brings in a baritone guitar, adding a welcome and less familiar component to the mix. It makes you wonder what might have happened had Duane Eddy discovered folk rock.

 

With Further Tales, TRADarrr have generously delivered on the promise shown by their debut album. These new tales are the product of a band bursting with ideas. Sure, there are passages that are the clear descendants of classic 1970s folk rock and they are worthy bearers of the family name. But, far more, this is an album focussed on exploring variations in instrumentation and vocal arrangements, finding different ways to reinvigorate traditional songs and tunes. There are plenty more elements to the arrangements beyond those I’ve highlighted, and you’ll have great fun discovering them for yourselves. It truly is an album that gives more and more each time you listen.

 

 

 

Review

FATEA

 

May 2017

 

I could almost swear the tricky typography's changed since this outfit's debut album (2015's Cautionary Tales), but on closer scrutiny I find that not to be the case after all - now there's memory playing tricks! But what hasn't changed is the seriously mighty nature of the music created under the banner of TRADarrr, whose stylish "folk-rock pirates" still plunder the seven seas of folk tradition for their raw material. In that respect, Further Tales… is a conscious sequel to its predecessor, pitching fresh and vigorous slants on texts from almost exclusively traditional sources. But in another crucial respect, Further Tales… is a different kettle of fish. Essentially, Cautionary Tales was a studio-based project masterminded by singer-guitarist P.J. Wright and drummer/multi-instrumentalist Mark Stevens, who both felt there was still much to be explored in marrying the English tradition with 21st century musics and instrumentation. For that album, onto a core five-piece lineup (comprising those two fine musicians plus fellow-LJE reprobate Guy Fletcher, with Gregg Cave and Marion Fleetwood) was grafted various "esteemed guest" performers on a track-by-track basis.

 

This gambit gave rise to a surprisingly cohesive end-product, but it quickly became apparent that there was plenty more mileage in that core lineup (and PJ and chums were clearly having such fun!), so after some debate and persuasion TRADarrr was consciously developed into a working, touring band with a clearly self-defined identity, and in the process became a seven-piece, with the addition of Mark Jolley and Phil Bond. However, even since then Mark J and Phil have themselves both moved on, their places having been taken by, first, singer/fiddler/pianist Gemma Shirley and second, bassist Tim Harries (erstwhile member of Steeleye). Further Tales… thus records the band in something of a transitional state, with Mark J playing bass on all but two of the tracks (The Cuckoo's Nest and The Bailiff's Daughter Of Islington) and Phil appearing on just one (The Bonny Lass Of Anglesey, which utilises a basic track that was recorded live).

 

Like its predecessor, Further Tales… draws on a wide range of latter-day musical influences and stylings to illustrate its stories. But I think it's fair to say that by and large, for all that it blows the cobwebs away from time-honoured dusty balladry it stays within the approved folk-rock template and doesn't do anything to frighten the horses. That's no criticism, for it nevertheless packs a sizeable punch, finding room for some canny explorations of texture within and around that wall of sound. The faithful recording brilliantly captures the ingenious separation of parts and lines and the sensibly sparing use of ancillary instrumental timbres, more of which are revealed on each subsequent listen. Nevertheless, at times there's also a slightly nagging feeling that some attributes within the group talent pool may appear mildly under-used - for example, considering the fact that three of the band members play fiddle, that instrument's colour doesn't figure quite as prominently as you might expect. Again this is no criticism, but (inevitably but satisfyingly) the overall group sound is quite unashamedly dominated by PJ and Mark's electric guitars (especially the counterpointing of the deep twang baritone and the soaring stratospherics which is magic!) and the rhythm section. The musicianship is massive, with each band member able to pick up a number of instruments to selectively develop the group texture when required. For instance, Guy brings to the mix mandolin, mandola, fiddle, guitar and drums, while drummer Mark adds cornet, autoharp, keyboards and programming; PJ augments his array of guitars with pedal steel, harmonica, soprano sax and dulcimer; and Marion has cello and viola as extra strings to her fiddle bow.

 

And as if that weren't enough, TRADarrr are blessed with four brilliant lead vocalists! Marion uses her smooth, silky and seductive vocal skills on Dream Not Of Love and the wriggling, twisting belly-dance of The Cuckoo's Nest (for which she even wrote some extra verses!). She also turns in a spine-tingling duet with Gemma on Lowlands Of Holland (which ingeniously incorporates the melody of The Water Is Wide, played wistfully on the cornet); Gemma's strong, sparky lead on The Drowned Lover is impressive too, its impact enhanced by a moody, grinding, almost ELO-like heavy string sound; and Guy makes a bold fist of The Golden Vanity. Gregg takes the lead for the remainder of the tracks, including The Bailiff's Daughter Of Islington (which storms along with a cheeky Stones-Brown Sugar riff!) and The Crafty Lover, and he memorably duets with Marion on Dream Not Of Love (his lovely setting of John Clare).

 

And there's a thought-provoking surprise too, in TRADarrr's reimagined version of Jack Elliott's classic Rap Her T' Bank, rather in the mould of Home Service (I could almost hear Mr Tams singing it). It's introduced by a silver-band-evoking cornet, then to the original powerful two-verse protest is appended two extra verses written by Pete Scrowther that celebrate - and lament the death of - the mining communities; my only reservation about this unusual treatment of the song is that it would've had even more impact taken at a slightly slower tempo. TRADarrr do wistful quite nicely, as it happens, although the impact of Spencer The Rover is compromised a touch by the tune used, to my mind flatter and less interesting than the one more commonly heard. My only other quibble is with the abruptly truncated ending of opening track Winter Winds (not the Sandy Denny/Fotheringay song, but words taken from a broadside). Finally, no TRADarrr album would be complete without an instrumental outing, and here the lone example is a chunky, bouncy hornpipe medley of Madame Bonaparte and The Golden Eagle (boots at the ready!) which sure won't disappoint the faithful.

 

Further Tales…is attractively packaged, with faux-broadside cover art, and complete with band photo portrait whose serious "attitude" pose seems to be cheekily emulating that of a certain group of well-known "dodgy bastards" of folk-rock!

 

Further Tales… gives us an exciting - and truly irresistible - feast of classic folk-rock, but so much more, for it stimulates the aural palette with its intensely imaginative and creative arrangements.

 

David Kidman

 

 

Sleevenotes and lyrics

 

 

Winter Winds

(Trad/Cave/Stevens)

Words from a broadside

 

Gregg - vocal, ac gtr

Marion - vocal, ac gtr

Gemma - bv

Guy - bv, mandolin, mandola

Mark J - bv, bass

Mark S - bv, drums, organ, percussion, ac gtr

PJ - el gtr, baritone gtr

 

Love is hot, love is cold

more precious sought than Sheba’s gold

More worthless one than clods of clay

esteemed to be cast away

 

The wind blows East the wind blows west

it turns about and does not rest then as a gale then light does fan such is the temper of a man

Blow you winds of winter blow

and cover me with spotless snow

And tear the branches from the tree and strew the dead leaves over me

The flowers come the leaves appear

all in the springtime of the year

then summer past they fall and fade such is the temper of a maid

 

Upon the steeple there stands a bird

his shrilly voice is never heard

it does not hear it does not see

oh would it had been so with me

This lonely circle of my life

is but the turning of a knife

and tears forever fill my eye

and every breath is but a sigh

 

 

The Crafty Lover

(Trad/Cave/Stevens)

 

Gregg - vocal, el gtr

Marion - bv, ac gtr

Gemma - bv

Guy - fiddle

Mark J - bass

Mark S - bv, drums,

PJ - slide gtr, el gtr, baritone gtr

 

It’s of a councillor I write

he had an only daughter,

she was youthful beauty bright

but marked what followed after.

Her uncle left her I profess

a very large possession

her father was to take care for

the fear of her discretion.

 

A thousand pound a year she had

in gold and silver money

her portion many sweethearts brought

none could obtain the lady.

Till at length the squire’s youngest son came a courting

and when he had her favour gained

she thought it’d be his ruin.

 

My father is a councillor

I’ll tell him my condition

ten guineas love shall be his fee

to buy his politician.

Until her father’s house he rode

the very next day after

gave him gold but never told

the lady was his daughter.

 

Here is my written hand and seal

by which you may obtain her

now quickly to some parson steal

before her parents gain her.

And early that next morning

the news to her he carried.

She her father’s council took

and they were fairly married.

 

And when the old man saw them both

he looked like one distracted

he swore he’d be revenged in law

for what they had enacted

But then replied the squire’s son

there can be no indicting

all this is law what we have done

here is your own handwriting.

 

 

Dream Not of Love

(Trad/Cave/Stevens)

The lyrics are part of the Northamptonshire poet John Clare's collection,

"From my Mother's and Father's Singing."

 

Marion - vocal, fiddle, 'cello, viola

Gregg - vocal, ac gtr

Gemma - bv, piano

Guy - mandolin, mandola

Mark J - bass

Mark S - drums

PJ - el gtr

 

 

Dream not of love

and think it like what waking love may be

for I dreamed so and broke my heart

when false love slighted me.

I threw a stone into the sea

and it sunk down into the sand

so did my poor heart with me

when my false love left this land

Dream not of love

 

Yes it’s true that flowers should be gathered when they're green

yes it's true she that love a man should have more wit than she has years

The sun it sets an hour too soon

in clouds behind the town

so my false love left and said goodnight before the day was down

Dream not of love

I sat my back against an oak thinking it be some trusty tree

but first it bowed and then it broke so did my false love with me

Dream not love of love

 

 

Rap Her to Bank

(Trad/Scrowther/Wright)

(Roud 1786)

“Rap ‘er ta bank! is the cry of men at the bottom of the shaft, waiting to come up in the cage. The onsetter would rap, and the winding man, hearing the signal would draw the cage to the surface (the bank)." A.L. Lloyd.

Walter Toyn, schoolmaster of Birtley, Co. Durham, collected Rap Her to Bank in 1962 from Henry Nattress of Low Fell Gateshead. Pete Scrowther knows it from the singing of Jack Elliott. Last verse written by Pete, displaying a hint of the younger and grumpier geordie that we so fondly remember. Attaboy...

 

Gregg - vocal, ac gtr

Marion - bv, ac gtr

Guy - mandolin

Mark J - bv, bass

Mark S - bv, cornet, drums, organ

PJ - bv, el gtr, pedal steel gtr, harmonica

 

Me father used to call the turn when the long shift it was over

and comin' by, ye'd hear him cry "You know it's after four!" Cryin' -

Rap her to bank, me canny lad! Wind her away, keep turnin'

the back-shift men are going home, they'll be back in the mornin'

 

And when that awful day arrived on the last shift for me father;

a fall of stones and broken bones, but still above the clatter he cried

Rap 'er to bank, me canny lad! Wind her slow, that's clever

this old lad is taken bad - he'll be back here never

Rap her to bank, me canny lad! Wind her away, keep turnin'

the back-shift men are going home, they'll be back in the mornin'

 

But nowadays the pits are gone, King Coal has left his palace

communities brought to their knees by politicians' malice

 

But when the wind wails past the mines where our fathers laboured for us

then cock an ear and you might hear a ghostly pitman's chorus

 

 

Lowlands of Holland

(Trad/Fleetwood/Wright)

(Roud 484)

"Until well into the 19th century the only way of keeping the Royal Navy up to strength was by pressing men into service, and press gangs terrorised the coastal towns in search of likely young men to serve on board. Although this service was ostensibly for the duration of a campaign, in practice it was more often a life sentence. Apparently the system was never officially abolished by act of Parliament." - Martin Carthy

 

Marion - vocal

Gemma - vocal, piano

Mark S - bv, cornet, keyboards, programming

 

On the night that I was married and in my marriage bed

There came a bold sea captain and he stood at my bed head

Saying ``arise, arise young wedded man this night for to go with me

To the low lowlands of Holland to fight the enemy.''

Oh, I held my love all in my arms, still hoping he might stay,

When the captain he gave another order and we had to march away,

Saying `there's many a blithe young married man this night must go with me

To the low lowlands of Holland to fight the enemy.''

But Holland it is a wondrous place and in it grows much green

'tis a wild inhabitation for my true love to be in.

Where the leaves they grow and the winds they do blow

and fruit grows on every tree

'tis the wild wild lands of Holland have ta'en my love from me

No shoes nor stockings I'll put on nor comb to go through my hair

And nor shall no coal nor candlelight shine on my bower fair

Nor shall I sleep with any young man until the day I die

For the low lowlands of Holland they parted my love and I.

 

 

The Golden Vanity/Brace & Auger

(Trad/Fletcher)

(Child 286)

Guy's tune Brace & Auger forms the instrumental section of this familiar tale of treachery on the low seas

 

Guy - vocal, mandolin, mandola, fiddle, ac gtr,

Marion - bv, 'cello

Gregg - el gtr

Mark J - bass

Mark S - bv, drums, percussion

PJ - el gtr, slide gtr

 

Oh there was a ship that sailed on the lowlands sea

And the name of the ship was the Golden Vanity

And they feared she would be taken over by their enemy

As they sailed upon the lowlands.

 

Then up stepped their cabinboy and boldly out spoke he

And he said to the captain "What would you give me

If I swim along the side and sank your enemy

Sank them in the lowlands"

 

"I will give you silver and I will give you gold

And my own fairest daughter your bonny bride shall be

If you swam along the side and sank our enemy

If you sank them in the lowlands"

 

Then the boy he made him ready and overboard sprang he

And he swam to the side of the enemy

And with his brace and auger in her side he bored holes three

Sank them in the lowlands, lowlands, low

Sank them in the lowlands sea.......

 

And then the boy swam back to the cheering of the crew

But the captain would not heed him, his promise he did rue

And he scorned his poor entreatings when loudly he did sue

They left him in the lowlands, lowlands low

They left him in the lowlands

 

Then the boy he turned round and swam back to the port side

And up to his messmates full bitterly he cried

"O messmates, messmates draw me up, I'm drifting with the tide

I'm sinking in the lowlands, the lowlands low

Sinking in the lowlands."

 

Then his messmates drew him up but on the deck he died

And they stitched him in his hammock which was so soft and wide

And they lowered him overboard and he drifted with the tide

Sinking in the lowlands, lowlands low

Sinking in the lowlands sea.

 

 

The Drowned Lover

(Trad/Shirley)

 

Gemma - vocal, fiddle, piano

Marion - fiddle

Guy - fiddle

Gregg - el gtr

Mark J - bass

Mark S - drums, cornet

PJ - el gtr, baritone gtr

 

As I was a walking down in Stokes Bay,

I met a drowned sailor on the beach as he lay,

And as I drew nigh to him put me to a stand,

For I knew it was my own true love by the mark on his hand.

As he was a sailing from his own dear shore,

Where the waves and the billows so loudly do roar,

I said to my true love I shall see you no more,

So farewell my dearest you're the lad I adore.

She put her arms around him saying "Oh my dear",

She wept and she kissed him ten thousand times o'er,

"Oh I am contented to lie by thy side",

And in a few moments this lover she died.

And all in the church yard these two were laid,

And a stone for remembrance was laid in her grave,

"My joys are all ended my pleasures are fled,

This grave that I lie in is my new married bed".

 

 

 

The Bonny Lass of Anglesey

(Trad/Cave)

(Child 220)

(basic track recorded live at the Clubhouse, Priors Marston, Warwickshire.)

A ballad from Francis James Child collection

 

Gregg - vocal, ac gtr

Marion - fiddle

Gemma - percussion

Guy - drums

Mark J - bass

Mark S - bodhran, dumbek, percussion

PJ - el gtr, soprano sax

Phil Bond - accordion

 

Our king has cried a noble cry And a well kept it must be

The English lords are coming down

To dance and win the victory

 

Our King has cried a noble cry and a well kept it must be

Go saddle me and bring to me

the Bonny lass of Anglesey

 

So up she starts as white as the milk between him and his company

saying what is the thing I have to ask

If I should win the victory

 

You’ll get fifteen ploughs and a mill and I give thee to the day I die

And the fairest knight in all of my court

To take for your husband for to be

 

Well there's not a knight in all of your court

Who could make me the bride to be

But to keep my land free of foe

Well this shall be my victory

 

She's taken the fifteen lords by the hand

Saying will you come dance with me

And by the evening at 10 o clock

They gave it over most shamefully

 

Up then raised the fifteenth lord

What an angry man was he

As laid free beside him was his belt and his sword

To the floor he gazed manfully

 

My feet my feet will be my din

Before she wins the victory

But by the morning at 10 o clock

He gave it over most shamefully

 

So you English lords that will travel this land Take heed of what I do say

Hold your swords low and two feet on the ground

And beware of the lass of Anglesey

 

 

 

The Cuckoo's Nest

(Trad/Fleetwood)

Lyrics based on the traditional song, with some added original verses by Marion to allow her and Gemma to stomp haughtily around the stage, intimidating the menfolk and frightening the horses.

 

Marion - vocal, bv, ac gtr, hi-strung gtr

Gregg - el gtr

Mark S - drums, bv, percussion

Tim - double bass

PJ - el gtr, slide gtr, dulcimer

 

As I was a walking one morning in May

I met a handsome farmer and to me he did say

'For love I am inclined and I'll tell you my mind

that my inclination lies in your Cuckoo's nest.'

 

'My darling' said I, 'I cannot you deny,

for you've surely won my heart with the roving of your eye

but I see it in your eyes that your courage is surprised.

So gently lift your hand into my Cuckoo's nest.'

 

Some like a girl who is pretty in the face

and some like a girl who is slender in the waist.

But most like a girl who will wriggle and will twist.

At the bottom of the belly lies the Cuckoo's nest

 

So I went to be with him

and five summers we were wed

he often held me close upon our marriage bed

but I saw it in his eyes before he left me for another

that he'd had his fill of laying with my Cuckoo's nest

 

He'll sigh and then he'll tell you

that you're a bonny lass and true.

You'll listen to his words and hope they're only said to you

He'll tell you that he loves you and beat upon his breast,

just to get his hand placed roundly on your Cuckoo's nest

 

Some like a girl who is pretty in the face

and some like a girl who is slender in the waist.

But most like a girl who will wriggle and will twist.

At the bottom of the belly lies the Cuckoo's nest

 

He'll break your heart and tarry with another fair young maid

and never glance behind him at all the trouble he has made.

For its women who most suffer for the follies of young men

when you let them find their way unto your Cuckoo's nest

 

 

The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington

(Trad/Cave)

(Child 105)

Another example of a song’s protagonist failing to recognise the woman he loves because she has put on “ragged attire” (and probably messed her hair up a bit.)

I suppose he should have gone to Specsavers…

 

Gregg - vocal, ac gtr, el gtr

Marion - bv,

Gemma - bv

Tim - bass

Mark S - bv, drums

PJ - el gtr, baritone gtr

 

There was a youth and a well beloved youth, and he was a squire's son.

He loved a bailiff's daughter dear that lived in Islington.

She was coy and would not believe that he did love her so

Nor did she ever affection to him show

 

Now when his friends did understand his fond and foolish mind,

They sent him up to London town, an apprentice for to bind.

Now when he had been seven long years no trace of her could he find;

“Many's the tear have I shed for her sake when she little thought of me.”

 

Then all the maids of Islington went forth to sport and play

All but the bailiff's daughter dear - she secretly stole away.

And as she walked along the high road, the weather being hot and dry;

She sat her down on a green bank, and her true-love came riding by.

 

She started up with colour so red, catching hold of his bridle rein;

“One penny, one penny, kind sir,” she said, “Will ease me of much pain.”

 

“Before I give you a penny, fair maid, pray tell me where you were born?”

“At Islington, kind sir,” she said, “Where I've had many's the scorn.”

“I prithee, maiden, tell to me, pray tell me whether you know,

The bailiff's daughter of Islington?” “She is dead, sir, long ago.”

 

“If she be dead, then take my horse, my saddle and bridle also;

For I will to some far country where no one shall me know.”

“Oh stay, oh stay, thou goodly youth, she standeth by thy side;

She is here alive, she is not dead, but ready to be thy bride.”

 

 

Madame Bonaparte/Golden Eagle

(Trad/Fletcher)

Guy - fiddle, mandolin

Gemma - fiddle

Marion - fiddle

Gregg - ac gtr

Mark J - bass

Mark S - drums, cornet, comedy percussion

PJ - ac gtr, el gtr, baritone gtr

 

 

Spencer the Rover

(Trad/Cave)

The album closes with this gentle pastoral tale of hope and leaves us with a celebration of domesticity and stability. Aaaaah…

 

Gregg - vocal, ac gtr

Gemma - bv, piano

Marion - bv, strings

Mark J - bv, bass

Mark S - bv, drums, cornet, autoharp

PJ - bv, el gtr

 

These words were composéd by Spencer the Rover

Who'd travelled through Britain, so far from his home.

He had been so reduced which caused great confusion

And that was the reason that caused him to roam.

 

In Yorkshire near Rotherham he had been on his rambles,

Being weary of travelling he sat down to rest.

At the foot of yonder mountain there springs a clear fountain;

With bread and cold water himself he refreshed.

 

It tasted much sweeter than the gold he had wasted,

Much sweeter than honey and gave more content.

But the thought of his babies a-missing their father

Brought tears to his eyes and caused him to lament.

 

The night fast approaching to the woods he resorted,

With woodbine and ivy his bed for to make.

There he heard the trees sighing, lamenting and crying,

Go home to your family and rambling forsake.

 

On the first of November, he's cause to remember,

When first he came home to his children and wife,

They stood so surpriséd when first he arrivéd

To see such a stranger once more in their sight.

 

His children came around him with their prittle-prattling stories,

With their prittle-prattling stories to drive care away.

Now they are united like birds of one feather,

Like bees in one hive contented they'll stay.

 

These words were composéd by Spencer the Rover

Who'd travelled through Britain, so far from his home.

Now he’s as happy as those with thousands of riches;

and contented he'll stay and go rambling no more,