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trad 

Ewan MacColl wrote in 1962: "Poetic licence has been strained to breaking point in this vigorous ballad. The battle fought upon the plains of Cromdale in Strathspey did, in fact, result in the army of 1,500 Highlanders being defeated by Sir Thomas Livingstone's Hanoverians. Montrose, the hero of the song, was not present at the event. Some forty-five years before, however, he won a victory at the Battle of Auldearn against the Whig forces and it is probable that the two events have been dovetailed to provide us with a fine, optimistic, if somewhat chronologically inaccurate song."

As I came in by Achin doon, Just a wee bit frae the toun,
Tae the Highlands I was bound To view the haughs of Cromdale.
I met a man in tartan trews, I spiered at him what was the news,
Quo’ he, “The Highland ar my rues That e’er we came to Cromale.

“We were in bed, sir, every man, When the English host upon us came;
A bloody battle then began Upom the haughs of Cromdale.
The English horse they were so rude, They bathed their hoofs in Highland blood.
But our brave clans, they boldly stood Upon the haughs of Cromdale.

“But, alas! We could no longer stay, For o’er the hills we came away,
And sore we do lament the day That e’er we came to Cromdale.”
Thus the great Montrose did say; “Can you direct the nearest way?
For I will o’er the hills this day, And view the haughs of Cromdale.”

“Alas, my Lord, you’re not so strong. You scarcely have two thousand men,
And there’s twenty-thousand on the plain, Stand rank and file on Cromdale.”
Thus the great Montrose did say, “I say, direct the nearest way,
For I will o’er the hills this day, And see the haughs of Cromdale.”

They were at dinner, every man. When the great Montrose upon them came;
A second battle then began Upon the haughs of Cromdale.
The Grant, Mackenzie and Mackay, Soon as Montrose they did espy,
O then they fought most valiantly Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 

trad 

Johnny Collins from 1973: "Lucy Broadwood's Wiltshire version of a song used at the traditional harvest supper. When the guests were seated a labourer, carrying a jug of beer or cider, filled a horn for every two men-one on each side of the table. As they drank, the first verse and chorus were sung and repeated until the man reached the end of the table. The second verse was then sung in the same manner."

Here’s a health unto our master, the founder of the feast.
We hope to God with all our hearts his soul in heav’n may rest;
That all his works may prosper, whatever he takes in hand,
For we are all his servants, and all at his command.

Chorus:
So drink, boys, drink, And see that you do not spill
For if you do you shall drink two, for ’tis our master’s will.

And now we’ve drunk our master’s health, why should our missus go free?
For why shouldn’t she go the heaven, to heaven as well as he?
She is a good purvider, abroad as well as at home,
So fill your cup and sup it up, for ’tis our havest home.

Now harvest it is ended, and supper it is past,
To our good mistress’ health, boys, a full and flowing glass,
For she is a good woman, and makes us all good cheer
Here’s to our mistress’ health, boys, so all drink off your beer. 

trad 

The Teacups: https://haystackrecords.bandcamp.com/track/vignette-ii-the-harvest-jug

Now I am come for to supply your workmen
When in harvest dry they do labor, hot and sweat
Good drink is better for them than meat
In winter time when it is cold,
I likewise then good drink can hold
Both seasons do the same require
And most men do good drink desire 

Leon Rosselson 1999

Rosselson has remarked that the song emerged from a play he'd written, but further details are not known. "The 'I' is not the songwriter; the old man is an imagined character, and Harry may not exist, may never have existed. But maybe sometimes people need a saviour to believe in and Harry, even if he doesn't exist, has got a lot more going for him than, say, the Gospel Jesus."

Nancy Kerr: https://nancykerr.bandcamp.com/track/harrys-gone-fishing

My heart was cold as midnight, my mind was worry worn
As I wondered through the city where William Blake was born
Past huddled shapes in doorways and towers made of glass
Then an old man came towards me and he would not let me pass
The years had withered in his face, was he drunk or in despair?
He led me to a silent street, said “see that waste ground there?
They never should have knocked it down, if only we’d known how
We could’ve stopped them doing it.” I said “it’s too late now”

Chorus 1:
And he said “Harry could’ve done it, ’cause he could put right every wrong
He could turn sighs into silence and silence into song
He could turn frowns into laughter, he could turn lost into found
He could turn wine into water, or is it the other way around?
Yes Harry could’ve done it, and Harry was my pal
But Harry’s gone fishing in the paradise canal”

He said “you see that pile of rubble with the barbed wire all around
That used to be our local now it’s a battle ground”
He said “I’ve lived my life here in this god forsaken street
That pub was our one bit of hope it’s where we used to meet
Now they want to build an office block with a car park there as well
A tarty supermarket; I hope they rot in hell
They say it will improve the place but it won’t do much for me
What I need is a bit of beach and the salt wind from the sea”

Chorus 2:
And he said “Harry could’ve done it, ’cause he’d have made it turn out right
He could turn the lonely into fighters and the mighty into blight
He could turn saints into sinners he could turn ashes into sparks
And he could turn the tables on the bankers and the sharks
Yes Harry could’ve done it, and Harry was my pal
But Harry’s gone fishing in the paradise canal

They say it will improve the place well nobody asked me
What I want is a bit of beach and the sunlight on the sea
A lovely stretch of sand where me and all my mates can meet
With gentle waves to paddle in and wash our tired feet
And we’ll stretch out on our deckchairs, let the sunshine soothe our pain
And we’ll make the high and mighty serve us winkles and champagne
It isn’t very much too ask; I’ll be a long time dead
Do you think you could arrange that?” I laughed and shook my head

Chorus 3:
And he said “Harry could’ve done it. ’cause he was always on our side
He could turn Punch and Judy into Bonnie and Clyde
He could turn shalt not into why not, he could turn is into seems
He could turn armies into forests and darkness into dreams
And it would turn your blood to fire when it was Harry’s turn to speak
But one thing he would never do is turn the other cheek”

So I left him in that silent street, an old man lost in space
His wild-eyed delusions dancing on his wizened face
And I walked on through that city with it’s temples made of brass
Then a great crowd swept towards me and they would not let me pass
The hungry and the homeless, downtrodden and distressed
A wretched ragged rabble of the outcast and oppressed
The unwashed and the unwanted on whom the sun has never shone
And the banners they were waving said “Harry lives on”

Chorus 4:
And they sang “Harry’s gone fishing, but he will turn up by and by
When a Saman sun rises in a bright morning sky
And he’ll turn shalt not in to why not, he’ll turn is into seems
He’ll turn armies into forests and darkness into dreams
He’ll turn saints into sinners, he’ll turn ashes into sparks
And he will turn the tables on the bankers and the sharks
He’ll turn frowns into laughter, he’ll turn lost into found
He’ll turn wine into water – no wait; the other way around
And the rich shall wear the saddle and the poor shall wear the crown
When Harry rises up and turns the world upside down 

trad 

Recorded by Copper Family 1955, tune by Richard Leveridge 1740s-50s for Roast Beef of Old England, lyrics late 18th century

Come all working people who travel alone
And pray come and tell me where the work has all gone
Long time I have travelled and never found none

Chorus:
And it’s oh the hard times of old England
In England very hard times

Provisions you buy from a shop, it is true
But if you’ve got no money, there’s none there for you
So what are poor folk and their families to do

You go to the shop and you ask for a job
They answer you there with a shake and nod
‘Tis enough to make poor folk to turn out and rob

You see working people a-walking the street
From morning till night for employment to seek
And scarcely they have any shoes to their feet

Soldiers and sailors have just come from war
Been fighting for Queen and for country sure
Come home to be starved, better have stayed where they were 

Gordon Peterson 1989

When I walk beside her I am a better man
When I look to leave her I always stagger back again
Once I built an ivory tower So I could worship from above
And when I climbed down to be set free She took me in again

Chorus:
There’s a big, a big hard sun
Beatin’ on the big people
In the big hard world

When she comes to greet me She is mercy at my feet
When I stay to pillage her She just throws it back at me
Once I dug an early grave To find a better land
She just smiled and laughed at me And took her blues back again

And when I go to cross that river She is comfort by my side
When I try to understand She just opens up her eyes
Once I stood to lose her When I saw what I had done
Burned down and threw away the hours Of her garden and her sun

So I tried to warn her And turned to see her weep
Forty days and forty nights And it’s still coming down on me 

Nancy Kerr 2014

Nancy Kerr: https://nancykerr.bandcamp.com/track/hard-songs

Some kind stranger grows my food
Back bent hard in the harvest sun
Red is the flag and red the mud
Hard songs running in her blood

Some kind stranger picks my coffee
Back bent deep in the forest heat
Green is the flag and green the plant
Cold seas running in his heart

Some kind stranger sews my clothes
Back bent low on the sweatshop row
Black is the flag and the smoke of coal
Mother’s tears running in your soul

Chorus:
Mother’s tears running in your soul
Cold seas running in your heart
Hard songs running in your blood

Nimble fingers stitching pride
Hunger rules the rich divide
Red is the blood and black the hole
Mother’s tears running in your soul

Seabound sailor give us wings
Nations end where peace begins
Labours end and the soul departs
Cold seas running in our hearts 

John Grimshaw 

Ian Robb wrote in 1979: "This song dates from the beginning of the industrialisation of the textile trade in Lancashire. It deals with a particularly black period during which the supply of woven goods outstripped the market, partly due to mechanisation, causing a scarcity of jobs for weavers and a decline in wages for those fortunate enough to be employed. The 'gentlemen and tradesmen' of the song followed the official propaganda line in blaming the Napoleonic wars and Bonaparte himself for much of the starvation and hardship which resulted. Apparently, however, the working men and women of the factories and mills were not so easily taken in, and many of them, seeing little decline in the comforts of the ruling and merchant classes, held a sneaking respect and admiration for 'Boney', whom they regarded as a champion of the poor."

Arrowsmith:Robb Trio

You gentlemen and tradesmen, as you ride about at will,
Look down on these poor people, it’s enough to make you crill.
Look down on these poor people as you ride up and down.
I think there is a God above will pull your pride right down.

Chorus:
You tyrants of England! Your race may soon be run.
You may be brought unto account for what you’ve sorely done.

You pull down our wages, shamefully to tell,
You go into the market and you say you cannot sell;
And when that we do ask you when these bad times may mend,
You quickly give an answer, “When the wars are at an end.”

When we look on our poor children, it grieves our hearts full sore;
Their clothing it is torn to rags, and we can get no more.
With little in their bellies they to their work must go,
While yours do dress as manky as monkeys in a show.

You go to church on Sundays but I think it’s nowt but pride;
There can be no religion where humanity’s thrown aside.
If there be a God in Heaven, as there is in the exchange,
Our poor souls must not come near there like lost sheep they must range.

With the choicest of strong dainties your table’s overspread;
With good ale and strong brandy you make your faces red.
You invite a set of visitors, it is your chief delight,
To put your heads together for to make our faces white.

You say that Bonaparte has been the cause of all,
And that we should all have cause to pray for his downfall.
Well, Bonaparte is dead and gone and it is plainly shown
That we have bigger tyrants in Boneys of our own.

So now, my lads, for to conclude and for to make an end,
Let’s hope that we can form a plan that these bad times may mend.
So, give us our old prices, as we have had before,
And we can live in happiness and rub out the old score. 

Nancy Kerr 2014

Written for Rich Arrowsmith's 40th birthday. Middle 3 verses emphasizing forty not subsequently recorded.

Chorus:
Hand me down some changing rhyme
Some embraces never bind
Oh hand me down your dancing line
Then I’ll know I’m home
Then I’ll know I’m home

When I arrived in this old town (Hand me down oh hand me down)
When I arrived in this old town
Some forty voices they gathered round (And I was coming home I was coming home)

There’s forty acres in freedom’s field / And forty summers will bless the yield

There’s forty nations upon the sea / and forty horsemen will ferry me

Sing forty verses around the bar / With forty beers but not too far

Some go ahead, some stay behind / We navigate by the souls we find

I’m navigating by one more star / It’s shining bright to show I’ve come this far 

Leonard Cohen 1984

I’ve heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don’t really care for music, do you?
Well it goes like this The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Chorus:
Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Well your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you
Well she tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Baby I’ve been here before
I’ve seen this room, and I’ve walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch
Our love is not a victory march
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

There was a time when you let me know
What’s really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Maybe there’s a God above
But all I’ve ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at somebody who outdrew you
It’s not a cry that you can hear at night
It’s not someone who has seen the light
It’s a cold and broken Hallelujah

You say I took the name in vain
I don’t even know the name
But if I did, well really, what’s it to you?
There’s a blaze of light in every word
It doesn’t matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

I did my best, it wasn’t much
I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch
I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah