A Folk Song A Day

Jon calls this one “a ballad I’ve always meant to get around to learning. This version is from Bert Lloyd. I’ve just today been lstening to An Evening With A. L. Lloyd a new release by Fellside which is a whole live gig with Lloyd – all brilliant stuff. He sings this there but adds a few extra verses – perhaps he edited them out later, not sure.”

Mainly Norfolk will give you a good chance to contrast and compare as there are several different transcripts of this, from the surprisingly brief to the truly epic. It’s also in the child collection and is #53. I was going to start by saying we’re on familiar territory, but realised that’s probably overstating it a little. Although it has been my privilege to see Chris Wood perform this a couple of times fairly recently, so it’s clearly lodged in my brain. I’ll also recommend the Fellside CD of Bert live (in fact I’m sure I have before) where this at almost 6 minutes long goes into Tamlyn at just over seven and a half. Two epics back to back. I guess it’s not entirely surprising to see this being linked to a true story, with Lord Bateman actually being Gilbert Bekett, father of Thomas. This Mudcat thread will get you into that. If anyone has the wherewithal to research this further, or has done previously, I’d like to know. As it says somewhere down that thread, you don’t turn to folk songs for history lessons, but it’s nice to be aware when they cross over. Things are rarely that simple, however.

Jon says “An amazing song this, written by Leon Rosselson, whose lack of national treasure status is shameful. Ian Giles sings this and it was always a big song at the Half Moon. I also recently saw Roy Bailey perform it, which was something special.”

This was recorded by Martin Carthy and it’s no surprise to see that it was inspired at least in part by The Aberfan disaster, although there is clearly a degree of bottled rage spiked by wider injustice and inequality. Rosselson is a very clever wordsmith and no slouch on the guitar either and if you aren’t familiar, Rosselsongs is a nifty CD primer, on which you’ll find this. He certainly wears his political heart on his sleeve and the topical songwriting was doubtless fuelled by being part of David Frost’s That was The Week That Was team. I guess poking barbs at the rich and ruling is always likely to ‘do’ for your national treasure ratings. In the alternate world, where fairness is the rule and rewards are just, however, Leon is right up there. Whilst Aberfan may be a tragic blot on the historical landscape (surely never again), depravation and the blight of inequality it fosters are not.

Brel’s birthday and Jon says, “I was only dimly aware of Jacques Brel when Pete Flood and Brendan Kelly from Bellowhead suggested we try this song out. I’m still yet to look much deeper into his work, but he was clearly an extraordinary poet and performer.”

My own introduction to Brel strated with Scott Walker and that came courtesy of Julian Cope, who compiled The Godlike Genius Of… LP in the early 80s. I subsequently became aware of If You Go Away (that I now understand to be a slightly ropy translation), especially Dusty’s version and Terry Jacks’ Seasons In The Sun. I’ve still only dabbled and I suppose part of the problem is that I never got very far with O Level French, although some of it lingers. So, French and Brel. Hmmmm. Another project then and probably as unrealistic as a sudden urge, based on Sunday’s post, to dive into Shakespeare. On the strength of this, however, does anyone fancy forming a free ranging study group? Start with the bio page on Wiki but do follow some of the song title links through. The Lines about the raindrops in Ne Me Quitte Pas quite brought a tear to my eye. This is a brilliant song, partially because of the purloining of the Greensleeves melody, but sung in a way that quite stopped me in my tracks this morning.

I think Jon hits the nail on the head saying, “Kipling is often thought of as an imperialist snob, which indeed he was to some degree. But he was a very complicated, contradictory man who was also fascinated by the idea of the outsider becoming naturalised. He was himself always something of an outsider as an Anglo-Indian, never quite fitting in anywhere. This song, very much like Sir Richard’s Song, sums up that process and makes a strong case for home being where the heart is, not where the birth certificate or passport designates it.”

It would be easy to wade into Kipling’s association between the Roman Empire and the British Empire with the latter taking the place of the former at the heart of things. But it’s the little details that make this more human and actually rather moving. Bellamy did a great job of setting these poems, but I’ve said before they have a natural fit as lyrics, albeit very smart ones, for songs.

Jon says, “I’m told this is a quite well known song but I only came across it last year as the first track on Sam Sweeney and Hannah James’s brilliant first duo album. I’m not aware of any other English folk songs that describe life inside, although writing this I am reminded of The Auld Triangle, which I should probaby record at some point.”

Bert Lloyd and Martin Carthy also make the point about the comparative scarcity of prison songs in the English tradition too as you’ll see here at Mainly Norfolk. I’ll add the bleakly humorous Durham Gaol (Dorham Jail) from the pen of the pitman-poet, Tommy Armstrong to be found on Megson’s excellent Smoke Of Home. Martin has recorded this several times over and there’s next to no difference between his and Bert’s versions, although both would have taken it from The Penguin Book Of English Folk Songs, being collected by Henry Hammond in Dorset. This seems to have a first-hand knowledge about it, although I have read that prisoners on the treadmill were frequently observed and jeered at by crowds of onlookers, so others would have known what the prisoners’ lives were like. The appearance of the word ‘skilly,’ however, (also found in Durham Gaol), a sort of porridge and meat concoction, which is described as “sometimes thick and sometimes thin” is possibly telling in its detail. Just while we are at it, the treadmill was used right into the early C20th, having been introduced in Britain in 1817, designed by Sir William Cubitt, in response to the inactivity of prisoners. I’ve also read somewhere that the time spent on one would equate to an 11,000ft climb every day. Hard labour indeed. In some cases, as with the similar but flat treadwheel and the hand crank, the effort was entirely unproductive, as prevailing labour trends simply couldn’t accommodate prisoners working at the expense of others. Anyway, here’s hoping our man has learnt his lesson!! And thanks to Hannah and Sam, there’s a nice bonus for you too.

Hannah James & Sam Sweeney Bonus track