‘Ware Out Mother

Melrose Quartet learned it from the singing of Charlie Yarwood

The Melrose Quartet: https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/ware-out-mother

Nightmares, Mother had, of navvies in the cellar
And dark eyes looking through the window outside
How we used to vex her, how we used to taunt her
How we would laugh and chant to her dismay

Chorus:
‘Ware out Mother there’s a navvy in the cellar
and two more looking through the window outside

Mother heard there was to be a river builded
Just a stone’s throw away from the window outside
How we hugged each other, as we told our mother
“It’s a canal, there’ll be navigators too.”

We told Mother we’d see barges full of jewels
And wondrous things past the window outside
“But where’s this river from?” We said it flows from China
“Woah” thought Mom, “there’ll be alligators too.”

One night Jimmy led the navies into town
and they looked like beggars through the window outside
There were navvies in the ale house, arguments and street fights,
Mother was delicate, she stayed in bed all week

One night Jimmy had a gentle way with words
and more pairs of hands than was decent, alright
“Will you come along, me saucy little Susie,
Just let me put a few arms around your waist.”

Soon our mother saw the navvy with her daughter
and she locked her up in the cellar downstairs
“Do you get along, me naughty filthy hussy,
Else I’ll put this stick about your back.”

Jim gave a wink, or it might have been a blink,
and he organised a tunnel ‘neath the window outside
Not a body saw them, then they struck foundations
“Right” thought Jim, “I shall blow a little hole.”

Muffled bang! and there was dust and rubble everywhere
And Jim was in the cellar of his Susie once more
How they hugged each other, yet no-one told our mother
She still has her dreams, yet she’s never learnt the truth. 

A Bright String of Pearls

John Kirkpatrick 2006

In celebration of the two hundredth anniversary of the birth of Isambard Kingdom Brunel. The GWR company was created in 1833 with Brunel as its engineer, and construction was completed in 1886.

Your Majesty, I present to you a gift that’s rare and fine
In all the Tower of London no brighter jewel could shine
A string of pearls laid out for you, it’s fitting for a Queen
And threaded along a railway line, and polished in the steam

Chorus:
Oh a Bright String of Pearls laid out across the country
From the capital down to Cornwall, from the city to the shore
The finest towns are newly crowned with even greater glory
For the Great Western Railway joins them up for evermore.

From Paddington down to Bristol it’s as smooth as a bowling green
With bridges and tunnels and viaducts, the sweetest ever seen
Through Slough and Reading and Didcot, rolling on to Swindon Town
That’s where we built our railway works, the jewel in our crown

We’ve branches go up to Oxford and to Gloucester and to Wales
And right across to Fishguard where the Irish ferry sails
Down through Frome and on to Yeovil, and to Weymouth, and to Chard
How all these places prosper now they have a railway yard!

Chippenham next, and onwards, there’s a test for an engineer!
With arches and embankments, riding high for two miles clear
And Box the largest tunnel for trains, it’s nearly two miles long
And to enter Bath in the finest style, we moved the canal along

There’s eleven short miles to run from Bath to Bristol Temple Meads
Two viaducts, seven tunnels, and five bridges is all it needs!
From there we’ll fly to Taunton, down to Exeter and the sea
And along the coast to Dawlish, and in Plymouth then we’ll be

You rattle across the Royal Albert Bridge and Cornwall comes in view
Through Truro down to old Penzance, and so our journey’s through
So there we are, Your Majesty, you darlingest of girls
Laid out across the counties is your bright string of pearls 

A Kiss at the End of the Rainbow

Michael McKean & Annette O’Toole 2003

From "A Mighty Wind", a mockumentary about a tribute concert for a fictional luminary of the American folk revival.

Chorus:
Oh, when the veil of dreams has lifted
And the fairy tales have all been told
There’s a kiss at the end of the rainbow
More precious than a pot of gold

In tales of ancient glory
Every knight and maiden fair
Shall be joined when the quest is over
And a kiss is the oath that they swear

My sweet, my dear, my darling
You’re so far away from me
Though an ocean of tears divides us
Let the bridge of our love span the sea 

A Pilgrim’s Way

Rudyard Kipling 1919

Peter Bellamy 1982

Peter Bellamy: Peter Bellamy – A Pilgrim’s Way

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eytb5rPunZE

I do not look for holy saints to guide me on my way, Or male and female devilkins to lead my feet astray. If these are added, I rejoice-if not, I shall not mind, So long as I have leave and choice to meet my fellow-kind. ÿAnd as we come and as we go (and deadly-soon go we!) ÿThe people, Lord, Thy people, are good enough for me! Thus I will honour pious men whose virtue shines so bright (Though none are more amazed than I when I by chance do right), And I will pity foolish men for woe their sins have bred (Though ninety-nine per cent of mine I brought on my own head). ÿAnd, Amorite or Eremite, or General Averagee, ÿThe people, Lord, Thy people, are good enough for me! And when they bore me overmuch, I will not shake mine ears, Recalling many thousand such whom I have bored to tears. And when they labour to impress, I will not doubt nor scoff; Since I myself have done no less and-sometimes pulled it off. ÿYes, as we are and we are not, and we pretend to be, ÿThe people, Lord, Thy people, are good enough for me! And when they work me random wrong, as often-times hath been, I will not cherish hate too long (my hands are none too clean). And when they do me random good I will not feign surprise. No more than those whom I have cheered with wayside courtesies. ÿBut, as we give and as we take-whate’er our takings be- ÿThe people, Lord, Thy people, are good enough for me! But when I meet with frantic folk who sinfully declare There is no pardon for their sin, the same I will not spare Till I have proved that Heaven and Hell which in our hearts we have Show nothing irredeemable on either side the grave. ÿFor as we live and as we die-if utter Death there be- ÿThe people, Lord, Thy people, are good enough for me! Deliver me from every pride-the Middle, High, and Low- That bars me from a brother’s side, whatever pride he show. And purge from me all heresies of thought and speech and pen That bid me judge him otherwise than I am judged. Amen! ÿThat I may sing of Crowd or King or road-borne company, ÿThat I may labour in my day, vocation and degree, ÿTo prove the same in deed and name, and hold unshakenly ÿ(Where’er I go, whate’er I know, whoe’er my neighbour be) ÿThis single faith in Life and Death and to Eternity: ÿ”The people, Lord, Thy people, are good enough for me!”

 

 

A Smuggler’s Song

Rudyard Kipling 1906 / Peter Bellamy 1972

Roberts & Barrand: https://johnroberts1.bandcamp.com/track/a-smugglers-song

If you wake at midnight, and hear a horse’s feet,
Don’t go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street,
Them that asks no questions they isn’t told a lie.
Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!

Chorus:
Five-and-twenty ponies, trotting through the dark
With brandy for the Parson and ‘baccy for the Clerk.
Laces for a lady and letters for a spy,
And watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!

Running round the woodlump if you chance to find
Little barrels, roped and tarred, all full of brandy-wine;
Don’t you shout to come and look, nor use ’em for your play;
Put the brushwood back again,-and they’ll be gone next day!

If you see the stable-door setting open wide;
If you see a tired horse lying down inside;
If your mother mends a coat cut about and tore;
If the lining’s wet and warm-don’t you ask no more!

If you meet King George’s men, dressed in blue and red,
You be careful what you say, and mindful what is said.
If they call you “pretty maid”, and chuck you ‘neath the chin,
Don’t you tell where no one is, nor yet where no one’s been!

Knocks and footsteps round the house, whistles after dark
You’ve no call for running out until the house-dogs bark.
Trusty’s here, and Pincher’s here, and see how still they lie
They don’t fret to follow when the Gentlemen go by!

If you do as you’ve been told, likely there’s a chance
You’ll be give a dainty doll, all the way from France,
With a cap of Valenciennes, and a velvet hood
A present from the Gentlemen, along o’ being good!

A Song of One

Tom Chapin 1990

John Forster 

Tom Chapin: A Song of One

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m7RiqjXLSaI

Sing a song of One, one for the yellow sun, The yellow sun that’s shining down on everyone. Sing a song of Two, two for the sky of blue, The sky of blue that shouts “Halloo” To the yellow sun? Sing a song of Three, Three for the redwood tree, The redwood tree that stretches high, High into the sky of blue? Sing a song of Four, Four for the sandy shore, The sandy shore that joins the lea, The lea where grows the redwood tree, The redwood tree that stretches high? Sing a song of Five, five for the things alive, Alive to leap and soar, And dance along the shore, The sandy shore that joins the lea?

 

 

A Strange Time to Bloom

Nancy Kerr 2019

 

For Rosa Luxemburg; inspired by the rosemary tree in Kerr’s back garden. One of her kids fell in it and smelled like a lamb dinner for weeks afterward. Luxemburg was a significant Marxist political theorist of the early 20th century. She was born Jewish in Poland but worked mostly in Germany, where she was prominent in international socialist coordination. Wikipedia: “An anti-imperialist, anti-militarist, and foremost thinker of democracy within the Marxist tradition, she is best known for her writing and her revolutionary leadership in 1918-1919” during which she was executed.

Melrose Quartet: https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/a-strange-time-to-bloom

https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/a-strange-time-to-bloom

Sweet rosemary flowers, what a ?strange ?time ?for ?bloomingÿ I thought her like a rosebud seen only in June?ÿ In coarse January with springtime a memoryÿ What a ?strange ?time ?for levity, what a? strange time ?to ?bloom?ÿ Chorus: For we’ve been? too long crying lamenting and sighingÿ For loves that have wandered and might be home soonÿ Though winter it glowers and the rich steal our powersÿ Sweet rosemary flowers, what a? strange ?time ?to ?bloom.ÿ Perhaps she laments for the loss of a true loveÿ And wishes? to? woo if they ever return?ÿ Perhaps she remembers our comrades who hunger For a garden of flowers, for the freedom of a bird?ÿ Perhaps in the darkness, the moonlight, the quietÿ The wounded our riotous roots may exhume?ÿ To ?grant when awoken? to? longings unspoken?ÿ To ?hearts that are broken, their? strange ?time ?to ?bloom?ÿ Sweet rosemary flowers, what a ?strange ?time? for? blooming?ÿ I thought her like a rosebud seen only in Juneÿ But springtime or autumn, grant all hearts a gardenÿ And all Rosa’s children their? strange? time ?to ?bloom.

 

 

Abiezer Coppe

Leon Rosselson 1977

 

Coppe (1619 – 1672) was one of the English Ranters and a writer of prophetic religious pamphlets. The Ranters rejected all forms of authority, and denied the existence of sin, maybe thinking predestination meant you’re already saved or you aren’t, so you might as well get drunk and sleep around while you’re waiting to find out which. His “Fiery Flying Roll” of 1649, a (highly heretical) tirade against inequality and hypocrisy which vividly evokes the charged and visionary atmosphere that swept over England during this period. Coppe combined an egalitarian social vision with an apocalyptic religious one. Nancy Kerr says he was anti-poverty and pro-pleasure, so everyone hated him basically. Rosselson wrote “The Ranters were the anarcho-hippies of the English Revolution, and this is the true story of the most flamboyant of them.”

Nancy Kerr & James Fagan from Roy Bailey’s Tribute Concert: https://towerseyfestival.bandcamp.com/track/abiezer-coppe

https://towerseyfestival.bandcamp.com/track/abiezer-coppe

Abiezer Coppe did away with sin My body is my church he said, God’s dwelling is within All I do is holy, Abiezer cried Gave his loving freely, A ranter ’til he died Chorus: So drink a loving cup To Abiezer, Abiezer He’s a drinking, dancing, roaring ranterÿ Abiezer Coppe, Abiezer Coppe A pox upon the pious and on what the scriptures preach I’d sooner hear a tinker curse than hear a vicar preach Nameless in his pleasures, he drank and smoked and swore Embracing as his fellow creatures beggar, thief and whore The righteous said the devil will take Coppe and his kind The devil is God’s backside, said Coppe, and hell’s a state of mind Women are the only heaven, marriage is the only hell Abiezer Coppe, knew it very well Through the streets of London , Abiezer came Heard the hungry cries for bread, he was a soul in pain When the nobles in their coaches passed he charged with wild eyes And gnashed his teeth in anger and roared out to the sky; How, how you rich nobles, you will reap soon what you sow For the day of doom is coming that will lay the mighty low And your properties will canker, and your houses will decay And the rust of all your silver will burn your flesh away Community in all things, Abiezer said The naked shall have clothing, the hungry shall have bread The great man jails the compass, the rich man starves the poor Without property, said Abiezer, theft would be no more Accused by church and parliament, attacked on every side They banned his books and burned them, and he was seized and tried The magistrates condemned him for vile blasphemy He pelted them with nutshells crying ‘will you my judges be’ And so to jail they took him, the ranters dream was dead He had no taste for martyrdom, I will repent he said I banish sin and I have learnt it cannot be denied That these are sins; greed, tyranny, hypocrisy and pride Abiezer Coppe, did away with sin,ÿ My body is my church he said, God’s dwelling is within History disowned him, his ghost they cannot kill It haunts the rich and righteous, drunk and dancing still