1. |
Song of the Blacksmith
03:55
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Song of the Blacksmith’s Wife (Winn / Ramsey)
My husband’s a blacksmith and where will you find
A man more industrious faithful and kind
He’s determined to thrive and in that we agree
And the ring of his anvil is music to me
Music to me music to me
And the ring of his anvil is music to me
Though dark his complexion and grimy his shirt
Hard are his hands and disfigured with dirt
Yet in that rude casket a jewel I see
And the ring of his anvil is music to me
To labour be ours though we’re really not poor
Industry has banished gaunt want from our door
For the blacksmith’s a man independent and free
And the ring of his anvil is music to me
At a distance from home I have seen with delight
Red sparks from his chimney illumine the night
And have heard the fast strokes from the anvil abound
And my heart has leapt at the musical sound
These strokes on the anvil say what do they prove
Forethought and affection industry and love
A resolve to be honest respected and free
That’s the tune on the anvil that’s music to me
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2. |
Poor Amy Beechey
03:48
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Poor Amy Beechey
Poor Amy Beechey, five telegrams received
It’s my duty to inform you that your son he has deceased
And, now besides his death, each son he has in common
A simple cross of Lincoln stone
Barnard was the eldest, the first son to die
A school master, a gifted man with numbers
His last letter stated I’m alright, but it was a lie
Blown to hell at Loos, somewhere, he slumbers
Frank was a teacher, legs torn off by a shell
Laid in no man’s land and bleeding for a day
His last letter to his mother said, I’m wounded but well
She got it two days after he'd already passed away
Harold was a farmer, fought in Gallipoli and France
Wounded three times, a survivor so it seemed
But with a whizz bang landing on his trench he knew he had no chance
His death was exactly as he'd dreamed
Charles, another teacher and keen naturalist
Sent to Africa he loved the fauna and flora
But machine gun bullets ripped and tore right through his chest
No butterflies taken home to mother
The last to die was Leonard, a romantic railway clerk
He was wounded, gassed and crippled at Bourlon Wood
His last words written, his name a spidery mark
“I don't feel like doing much, love Leonard”
Thanked by the Queen for all eight sons who’d gone to war
She replied bitterly “I did not give them willingly”
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3. |
Spring
02:57
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Now the rude rugged winter retreats to the north
Where he revels in frost all the year
And nature rejoicing begins to bring forth
The livery the spring loves to wear
So come, come, a toast to spring and round the maypole sing
The larks make the welkin resound with their song
While the thrush fills with music the grove
The blackbird sings sweetly the green boughs among
And the wood pigeon coos to his love
The flocks fed on winter on roots pulse and hay
Now rejoice through the pasture to range
The lambs cheer the scene with their innocent play
And all nature exults in the change
The farmer with joy sees the blade springing up
Where so lately he guided the share
And he prays for mild seasons to favour the crop
Which in autumn repays all his care
Haste away from the city dear friend for a time
Bid the circles of fashion adieu
And enjoy in the country the spring in its prime
Now its charms it expands to our view
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4. |
Masons of Lincoln
03:39
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The old man walked and watching from a distance
Saw masons mixing mortar for a wall
One mason clearly had a serious grievance
The second quite content and clearly skilled
The third he was most joyous in appearance
And as he worked he looked by far the most fulfilled
And they all toil and they all work
But the stone for every man is not the same
He reached the first and said good morning to you
Pray tell me of your work, your daily toil
The man stopped working then he turned to answer
Each day so dull, every hour the same
Chipping his life away the mournful chis’ller
Showed no interest, no liking for the stone
To the second man he asked the same question
Pray tell me of your work, your daily toil
The mason was content with each task given
Was mapping out a future with a home
The carving of the detail didn’t matter
Just the rhythm of stone upon stone
To the third mason he asked the same question
Pray tell me of your work, your daily toil
With my skill and love of stone I see the greatness
That will come from all I lay and all I carve
Though this cathedral I I will never see completed
My labour and my love will always echo through the stone
The mason then in turn did ask the old man
What’s the reason for your questions pray do tell
He smiled and said your work I value greatly
For with your skill my dreams all come to life
For this will be the great Lincoln Cathedral
And I Remigius praise you above them all
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5. |
Lincolnshire Wolds
02:14
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I love the hills, the Lindsey hills where healthy breezes blow
And bubbling fountains feed the rills that through the valleys flow
Not lofty mountains rugged steep and clothed with endless snow
But gentle rises white with sheep or broken by the plough
Such hills as form my native wolds where plenty spreads her charms
And every vale a village holds encircled round with farms
‘Tis pleasant in the Marsh to roam and in the well drained fens
But more I love my le -Wold home my native hills and glens
I love the hills, the Lindsey hills where healthy breezes blow
And bubbling fountains feed the rills that through the valleys flow
Among the hills my home I make and when this life shall close
Under a hillock green I’ll take my last my long repose
My last my long repose
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6. |
Horncastle Fair
02:59
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As I was going to Horncastle Fair, and the wind blew fair
I trotted on trotted on my way, for so many merry folks were there
Going to that famous fair, riding to Horncastle town
A maid, I met, a-riding all alone and the wind blew cold
She trotted on, trotted on her way, my fair maiden, will you now decide
All the way with me to ride, safely I ’ll see you to the fair
Now rogues are going to Horncastle Fair, and the wind blows cold
I’ll trot along, trot along my way, I have always been an honest lass
Stand back sir, and let me pass, safely I’ll ride on to the fair
My dear, my dear, I am an honest man, and the wind blows cold
So trot along, trot along by me, let me ride with you to the fair
Here to you I do declare, from me you shall never come to harm
My love I met at Horncastle Fair, and the wind blew cold
We trotted on, trotted on our way, and it’s then we quickly married were
All through meeting at the fair, now she is my bonny, bonny bride
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7. |
Flower Girl
03:16
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Mother tried to help us, she sent us all to school
I never knews me father, tho’ I knows he was a fool
But mother went and died on us, left us three alone
We had to seek a living, and find ourselves a home
Buy a bunch, kind lady, please buy me flowers gent
I’ll get meself clean clothes and I’ll even pay the rent
I dream of getting sixpence, of, being way back home
Buy a bunch, kind lady for the flowers are all I own
Now we’re all much older, fourteen, twelve and ten
Things are so much easier, selling flowers by the Slea
We may all share a bed, in a room so damp and bare
But on the streets we’re happy, and why would I despair
Me clothes are torn, me shoes gone, me feet are all but black
Me bonnet grimed and greasy, me hair is like a stack
But we ain’t never asked for parish help nor other charity
We don’t miss mass on Sunday, and we give the poor money
It’s the sweetness sells the flowers, the colours and the smells
I’d maybe like some clothes, from all the blooms I sells
But I’d rather have me freedom, not be in some factory
I’ll always love me flowers for it’s them that sets me free
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8. |
I Wear My Old Coat Still
03:30
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I went to town a country lad got up in country style
So far behind the age in dress I made the town folk smile
The urchins on the pavement cried why who’s your tailor Bill
And the saucy girls would laugh and say he wears that old coat still
He wears that old coat still, he wears that old coat still
The saucy girls would laugh and say, he wears that old coat still
My friends were poor no cash to spare and yet I felt distressed
To find they’d sent me to the town so ungenteely dressed
To be a Fright or a Country Guy I neither can nor will
So off to Snip and Coes I hie’d to risk a tailor’s bill
To risk a tailor’s bill, to risk a tailor’s bill
So off to Snip and Coes I hie’d to risk a tailor’s bill
My suit came home a splendid black, they called it superfine
But from that day for weary months no inward peace was mine
I could not pay the tailor dun’d vexation made me ill
And cruel shifts my parents made to pay the tailor’s bill
To pay the tailor’s bill to pay the tailor’s bill
And cruel shifts my parents made to pay the tailor’s bill
Our foreman was a noted swell, smart as a lord or prince
I wondered at his splendid ways I’ve solved the riddle since
To meet his tailor’s just demands he robbed the master’s till
He went to gaol I got his place and wore my old coat still
And wore my old coat still, and wore my old coat still
He went to gaol, I got his place and wore my old coat still
A lesson learned with so much grief could scarcely be forgot
I vowed I’d not be fashion’s slave what e’er my earthly lot
And safe once more on freedom’s shore when pressed to run a bill
I’d call to mind that stylish suit and wear my old coat still
And wear my old coat still, and wear my old coat still
I’d call to mind that stylish suit, and wear my old coat still
And wear my old coat still
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9. |
The Girl Pat Trawler
03:34
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Fools' day ’36, and out of Grimsby the tiny trawler slips
It’s meant to be an ordinary run
But the captain he has other plans, that'll change Girl Pat for ever
They head not to Dogger Bank but south for stores from Dover
There was Captain Dod, a stowaway plus the burly crew of four
And the owner’s engineer was left behind upon the shore
With no charts to give them guidance, just a sixpenny school atlas
Yet the Grimsby crew believed they would go far
Desperate, lost, they run aground get rescued, held at anchor then
Gaumont makes a film about their flight
Slipped their mooring, changed the name, sailed for the Bay of Biscay
But all in vain, for their wake was very closely followed
When caught and arrested, lies and outlandish claims the crew they made
From fraud to running guns or working for the State
They always failed to explain their strange behaviour
The Captain and his brother got sentenced to hard labour
Offered thousands for his story, Dod chose to write a book instead
Was he a thief, adventurer or just a dunderhead
The boat became the star, raising money for the Seamen’s Mission
Whilst of the crew no news was ever heard again
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10. |
Dock Tower Lament
02:46
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It was hard when you left and you all went home
And the docks declined leaving me alone
As I’d grown to know you all and all your ways
I’d heard your moans and I’d felt your pain
As those in power failed once again
How I mourn the days when the fishing haul was king
You had to leave to seek some pay
Knowing the loss and sickening pain
Of parting and losing that belonging
You bade farewell to the port and then
Turned from the beach and the forts again
And left the town and docks you knew so well
Farewell to the Humber’s waters brown
To the pubs and the shops of old Top Town
To the ice house on the banks of the River Freshney
To the sand and the salt and the fishing smacks
To the women finding bargains in their tired old macs
And you wonder why it’s all part of your soul
Where once a hundred boats amassed
A thousand fishing nets were cast
Where a lumper made his fortune in a night time
Where gutting, scaling, hauling down
With the cold north wind howling round
Those days are gone but always on your mind
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11. |
Brigg Fair
02:49
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So come to the fair me darling, come take a drink with me
And at Brigg Fair your own true love you’ll see
It was on the fifth of August, the weather being fair
Unto Brigg Fair I did repair for love I was inclined
I got up with the lark in the morning, and my heart was full of glee
Expecting there to meet my dear, long time I'd wished to see
I looked over my left shoulder, to see whom I might see
And there I spied my own true love come a-tripping down to me
I took hold of her lily-white hand, and merrily sang my heart
And now we are together, we never more shall part
For the green leaves, they will wither, the roots, they shall decay
Before that I prove false to her, the lass that loves me
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12. |
The Winceby Stone
03:01
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Behold the Winceby stone he cried
Lincoln’s fields you’ve got the devil inside
You’ll rue the day the stone it slid away,
Dark shadows will move o’er the graves where they lie
Started at the break of dawn, a sharpened sword on granite stone
His men had jibbed him and called him a fool, how could he turn away
Cruel forces were at play, the devil’s curse echoed o’er field and vale
Many a man had tried in vain, to take the treasure from the Lincoln plain
Wise women had warned him to leave well alone, but of the curse he hid all fear
The devil he was sure would not appear, he summoned nine horses to raise up the stone
The stone emerged from its dreadful bed, a cry rang out my Lord is dead
The demon summoned from his slumberous depths, darkness fell on the Winceby Plain
As the fiend stamped on the stone again, his footprint marked forever in the Lindsey stone
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13. |
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Thy chalky mountains Lindsey fair extend o’er many a mile
A healthy open fertile range as any in our isle
Yet of thy pleasant breezy hills not one of all I know
Calls up such sweet remembrances as does the Hill of How
And we will lift our voices over hill and vale
And sing in praise of the good old days and fill our glass with ale
As master of our village school when birds began to sing
And bursting blossoms plainly told the glad return of Spring
I’d take the children for a stroll to see the daisies grow
And hail the season with a song upon the Hill of How
No wild neglected barren waste around thy base is spread
No dreary caverns pierce thy sides no gloomy pines o’er head
But gentle hillocks white with sheep or cultured by the plough
And shady groves and fertile fields adorn thy prospect How
Now in the sere and yellow leaf while life and strength shall last
I’ll sometimes saunter up thy sides to muse upon the past
I’ve had my cares, I’ve had my joys, to fate's decree I vow
And soon my feet will cease to tread the path that leads to How
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Jan and Paul Ramsey Grimsby, UK
Jan and Paul first began singing together when they were students. Jan plays guitar and sings lead vocals, and Paul plays single reed harmonica and vocals. They are renowned for their close harmonies. Over the years they have performed extensively in the UK and overseas. They have held various residencies in UK folk clubs and are currently residents at Grimsby Folk Club. ... more
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