Tom and Barbara Brown record with Wild Goose Records - "The English Music Label".


  • information about Cpts. Lewis & Vickery repertoire HERE

    West Country Night Out (WGS 347CD - 2007)
    LAMORNA (trad.)
    Tom & Barbara Brown: lead vocals.  Keith Holloway: melodeon. Additional chorus: Tom Brown & Doug Bailey
    Now, a song I'll sing to you all about a maiden fair
    I met the other evening at the corner of the square.
    She had a dark and a rolling eye, and her hair hung down in ringlets:
    I asked her would she ride with me away down to Lamorna.
              'Twas down in Albert Square, I never shall forget,
              Her eyes they shone like diamonds and the evening it was wet, wet, wet.
              And her hair hung down in curls, she was a charming rover
              And we roved all night, in the pale moonlight, away down to Lamorna.
    When she got into the cab I asked her for her name
    And when she gave it me, hers and mine it was the same
    So I lifted up her veil, for her face was covered over
    To my suprise, it was my wife I took down to Lamorna.
    Says she "I knawed you well. I knawed you all the time.
    I knawed you in the dark but I did it for a lark.
    But for that lark she payed: for the covering of her donor
    She payed the fare, I do declare, away down to Lamorna.
    DORSET 4-HAND REEL (trad.)
    Tom Brown: English concertina & octave mandola.  Keith Holloway: melodeon & electric bass guitar.
    Barbara Brown: lead vocals. Tom Brown: mandola. Paul Sartin: fiddle. Additional chorus: Barbara Brown
    All you who roam, both young and old,
    Come listen to me story bold;
    From all around, from far and near
    They come to see the rigs of the fair.
                 Oh master Jan, do you beware,
                And don’t you go kissing the girls at Bridgwater Fair.
    The jovial ploughboys all serene,
    They dance the maids all over the green;
    Says John to Mary, ‘Don’t you know
    You’ll not go home till the morning, oh.
    There’s Tom and Bob, they look so gay,
    With Sal and Kit they haste away;
    They laugh and shout and have a spree
    And dance and sing right merrily.
    The lads and lasses they come through
    From Stowey, Stogursey and Cannington too;
    That farmer from Fiddington, true as me life,
    He’s come to the fair for to look for a wife.
    There’s Carroty Kit, so jolly and fat
    With her gurt flippety floppety hat,
    A hole in her stocking so big as a crown
    And the hoops of her skirt hangin down to the ground.
    Then it’s up with the fiddle and off with the dance,
    The lads and lassies gaily prance,
    And when it’s time to go away,
    They swear to meet again next day.
    Tom Brown:lead vocals. Chorus: Cathy Barclay, Barbara Brown, Barry Lister, Charley Yarwood
    Come all you jolly ringers, come listen to my tale.
    I’ll tell ‘ee of five ringers bold that lived in Egloshayle.
    For to ring the ray they bore the sway wherever they did go.
    Sweet music of those merry bells ‘twas their delight to show.
        Lanlivery men, St. Mabyn men, St. Tudy and St. Kew,
        But these five boys of Egloshayle could all the rest outdo.
    Now Craddock, the cordwainer, he rang the treble bell;
    John Ellery was the second man, no man could him excel;
    Oh, the third was Pollard, carpenter, and the fourth was Thomas Cleave,
    Goodfellow was the tenor man that rung ‘em round so brave.
    Now Craddock, the cordwainer, he stepped long with his toe,
    And casting of his eyes about, commanded ‘em when to go.
    They pulled away with courage bold, the heart it did revive.
    Sweet music then was quickly heard with one, two, three, four, five.
    This little corps they rang so sure, no changes did they fear.
    No man did ever miss his turn, ‘twas joy to see and hear,
    Oh, and people then from miles around, o’er valley, hill and dale,
    Told of the fame of those ringers bold that lived in Egloshayle.
    They went up to Lanlivery and they bore away the prize,
    Next they went to St. Tudy, and there they did likewise.
    Oh, there’s Stratton men and St. Merryn men, St. Issey and St. Kew,
    But these five boys of Egloshayle could all the rest outdo.
    So, come all you jolly ringers have listened to my tale,
    I’ve told ‘ee of those ringers bold that lived in Egloshayle.
    For to ring the ray they bore the sway wherever they did go.
    Sweet music of those merry bells ‘twas their delight to show.   
    Tom & Barbara Brown: lead vocals.  Tom Brown: English concertina. Ralph Jordan: acoustic bass guitar, Francis Verdigi: fiddle. Malcolm Woods: roped tenor drums. Charley Yarwood: bones.
    In eighty-eight e’er I was born, or I can well remember,
    In August was a fleet prepared, the month before September.
    Proud Spain with Biscay, Portugal, Toledo and Granada,
    All these did meet and made one fleet, and called it the Armada.
    Their men were young, munitions strong to do to us more harm-a.
    They thought it mete to join their fleet all with the Prince of Parma.
    Their navy was well-victualled with bully beef and bacon,
    Some say two ships were full of whips, but I think they were mistaken.
    They sailèd round about our shores and so came into Dover.
    Our English lads did board them there and threw the rascals over.
    The Queen was then at Tilbury; what more could we desire-a?
    Sir Francis Drake, for her sweet sake, he set them all on fire-a.
    So let them look unto themselves, if they should come again-a.
    They shall be served as they were then, e’er ever I was born-a.
    Farewell, my dearest Polly, now you and I must part.
    To the raging of the seas, my love, I pledge my aching heart.
    Our ship she lies awaiting, so fare you well, my dear,
    For I am just a-going on board of a bold privateer.’
    She said, ‘My dearest Jemmy, I hope you will forbear,
    And do not leave your Polly thus in grief and in despair.
    You’d better stay at home with the girl you love so dear,
    Than thus to venture your sweet life on a bold privateer.’
    ‘You know, my dearest Polly, your friends they do me slight,
    Your parents say that I’m too young to take you for my wife.
    From them I now must wander to make my fortune clear,
    And soon I’ll be the captain of a bold privateer.
    Now when the wars are over, if heaven spare my life,
    Back I will return again and take you for my wife.
    It’s then I will be married to the girl I love so dear,
    And we’ll forever bid adieu to the bold privateer,
    Yes, we’ll forever bid adieu to the bold privateer.’    
    DARTMOOR SONG (Bob Cann)
    Barbara Brown: lead vocals.  Tom Brown: English concertina
    All around our lovely countryside there’s ancient sites galour,
    Like many, many you can find on dear old Dartymoor,
    Where the men did sweat and toil, my boys, in the cold, the heat and dust,
    Just enough to keep their families alive in rags and crust.
    They would wake up with the lark, my boys, and off to work would go
    Amongst the gorse and heather and across the streams that flow;
    They would toil away from dawn till dusk their harvest for to reap,
    With ricks of square-cut fags, me boys, and piles of black cut peat.
    Take a walk around old Dartymoor, when the sun does brightly shine
    Upon the mounds of rubble left from down there in the mine,
    In the dark and dust where they did sweat for all the tin and ore
    That made the tools their brothers used away out on the moor.
    It’s there you’ll find their craftsmanship, so neat, so true and plain,
    That once was just a granite rock on the moor in the mist and rain;
    The churches and the bridges, the village and the farm,
    And the sturdy granite gateways, boys, where the men may stand and yarn.
    If you walk across old Dartymoor by morning, noon or night,
    The craftsmanship that you’ll find there, oh, it is a lovely sight.
    Don’t interfere with their great work that they have left behind;
    Keep dear old Dartmoor as it is for the sake of all mankind.
    Tom Brown: lead vocals. Chorus: Barbara Brown, Tom Brown, Doug Bailey.
    'Twas just a month, come Friday last, Bill Champernowne and me,
    Us takes a trip 'cross Dartymoor, the Guzie Fayre to see.
    Us made ourselves quite vitty: us oiled and us greased our hair.
    Then us dresses ourselves in our Sunday suits behind old Bill's grey mare.
    Us smelt the sage and onions all the way cross Whitchurch Down,
    And didn't us have a blow-out when us put into the town.
    An' there us met Nick Haddiford, Jan Squire and Nicky Square,
    And it seems to we, all Devon must be, to Tavistock Guzie Fayre.
                   And it's Oh!, an' where be gwayne? An' what be doin' of there?
                  'Eave down you prong and stap along, to Tavistock Guzie Fayre.
    Now us went and seed the 'osses and the heifers and the yaws,
    And us went on all thick' roundybouts and into all the stalls.
    'Twas then it started rainin' and blawin' To His Fey
    So off us goes, up to The Rose, and us has a dish o' tay.
    Well there us 'ad a sing-song and the folks kept droppin' in.
    And them o' them as knawd us, well us 'ad a drop o' gin.
    And what with one an' tother, us didn't seem to care
    Whether us was to Bellever Tor or Tavistock Guzie Fayre.
    Now, 'twas rainin' streams, an' dark as pitch when us started 'ome that night,
    As just as us got past Merrivale Bridge well, the mare 'er took a fright.
    Says I to Bill "Be careful, or you'll 'ave us in thick' drain"
    Says Bill to me "Cor bugger", says he, "Why haven't you got the reigns?".
    Just then the mare ran slap against a whackin' girt big stone,
    An' 'er kicked the trap to flibberts an' 'er trotted off alone.
    When us come to, us reckoned twadn't no use sitting there
    So us 'ad to traipse 'ome thirteen mile from Tavistock Guzie Fayre
    Tom & Barbara Brown: lead vocals.  Ralph Jordan: duet concertina
    Now Mother and me be the old-fashioned sort,
    But us bain’t half so soft as us looks,
    There’s lots o’ things that the young ‘uns can larn
    Besides what they reads in the books;
    Us was ax’d to a dance ‘bout a fortnight ago,
    A slap-up affair which us thought quite slow,
    No polkas, no gallops, no gay gavottes -
    They just walked round and round and they called it foxtrots!
              But when Mother and me joined in,
              My word, what a time us spent;
              Us didn’t know much of the steps (tunes/rules/moves), you see,
              But that didn’t matter to Mother and me;
              Us made up the steps as us went.
    I bowed to mother, her bowed to me,
    And the band began to play,
    And away us went with a one, two, three -
    Us showed the young ‘uns the way!
    They was begging our pardon left and right
    When we begun to spin;
    You’d never believe what a difference it made
    When Mother and me joined in!
             Well, when Mother and me... (steps)
    The room was crowded, there wadn’t much space,
    And Mother weighs sixteen stone;
    I whirled her round and round the place -
    Us soon had the floor to our own;
    Us scattered the chaps, they lost their maids,
    Us went drough thick and thin;
              Oh, you’d never believe what a difference it made
              When Mother and me joined in.
    Now last summer they had in our parish hall
    A choral society;
    There was thirty or forty all singing to once
    Including Mother and me,
    But instead o’ they songs that everyone knows,
    ‘Twas one o’ they horror-torios;
    They was all afraid to sing ‘en out loud,
    ‘Cus nobody knowed what ‘twas all about.
              But when Mother and me... (tunes)
    Well, the man in front, ‘e waggled ‘is stick
    And the choir begun to squall,
    but Mother and me, us drowned the lot
    Wi’ Uncle Tom Cobley and all;
    I sung treble, and I sung bass;
    The tenors was lost in the din;
    You’d never believe...
              Well, when Mother and me... (tunes)
    The choir all sang till they nearly bust
    And got in a terrible rage,
    But Mother and me, us finished fust
    Be’ very near ‘alf a page;
    The poor conductor, ‘e lost ‘is place,
    ‘E didn’t know where to begin;
              Oh, you’d never believe...
    Now, last Friday night us was invited out
    To a whist drive - start at eight;
    Us never ‘ad bin to one before,
    And us got there a little bit late;
    They was all sat round wi’ faces glum
    As if they was waiting for Kingdom come,
    Like a load of ol’ pa’sons saying their prayers
    Wi’ somebody bad in the room upstairs.
              But when Mother and me... (rules)
    Well, I went fust and I laid down
    The ace o’ clubs wi’ a slap;
    I was next, I played the ace
    O’ trumps, and hollered, ‘Snap!’
    The crowd did roar, the MC swore;
    We see’d us was gwain ‘a win;
    You’d never believe...
              Well, when Mother and me... (rules)
    Well, I won fust prize be’ all the rules
    With a hunderd and ninety-eight,
    But they refused to give it me;
    They said I’d reckoned in the date;
    Mother revoked, her partner choked;
    The folks all said, wi’ a grin,
              Oh, they’d never believe...
    Now last week us went out on a charabanc ride
    And got up to some fine high jinks;
    Us went to place just to see what was on -
    ‘Twas one o’ they ‘skating rinks’;
    The folks looked very fine and proud
    As they went skating round and round;
    I see’d some sights I never see’d afore
    As they went gliding round the floor.
              But when Mother and me... (moves)
    Well, a chap fitted me with two left skates
    Of quite a different track,
    For one was determined to go forrard
    And t’other to go back;
    When I said, ‘Go!’, I shouted, ‘Whoa!
    There’s somebody locked in me shin!’
    You’d never believe...
              Well, when Mother and me... (moves)
    A chap said to me, ‘Where be gwain to next?
    I hollered, ‘Goodness knows!’
    Then Mother come slap-bang into me arms
    And away the both of us goes.
    There was skaters in heaps all over the floor
    With pieces took out o’ their skin;
              Oh, you’d never believe...
    ME OLD GAME COCK (trad.)
    Barbara Brown: lead vocals.  Tom Brown: chorus vocals.
    I used to oversleep meself each morn,
    I never got up early since the day that I was born,
    Then last week I had a bright idea;
    I went to Molton market just to make it clear;
    I bought a big red rooster, the sort that doesn’t lay,
    ‘Cos then I thought that he could wake me up each day.
              Every morning, every morning, everything is quite alright,
              I don’t need a knocker-up and I don’t need a clock,
              For underneath me bed I keep my old game cock;
              Every morning, every morning I never oversleeps, ‘tis true,
              For out I go when the cock begins to crow,
              Cock cock cock-a-doodle doo.
    Now I thought this rooster led a lonely life,
    So I went and bought a hen for him and made them man and wife;
    Each night she sleeps in the baby’s cot,
    She sits on the water bottle, nice and hot,
    So now I gets me breakfast when I get out of bed,
    ‘Cos on the water bottle is a nice boiled egg.
    So all you maidens that have just got wed,
    If you’ve got a husband that you can’t get out of bed,
    Take my tip and you will all rejoice,
    Just get a good old rooster with a tenor voice,
    And when he hears his love song, he’ll get out quick, you bet,
    So join me in this chorus and you won’t forget.
    WIDECOMBE FAIR (trad.)
    Tom Brown: lead vocals & submarine melodeon. Chorus: Barbara Brown, Doug Bailey
    Tom Pearce, Tom Pearce, lend I the grey mare,
                 All along, down along, out along, lee,
    For I wants for to go to Widdecombe Fair.'
                 Wi’ Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy,
                 Dan'll Whiddon, Harry Hawk,
                 Old Uncle Tom Cobbley and all,
                 Old Uncle Tom Cobbley and all.
    'Well, when shall I see again my old grey mare?'
    'By Friday noon, or come Saturday soon.'
    Now Friday was gone, and Saturday come,
    Tom Pearce's grey mare her had not trotted home.
    So Tom Pearce he went up on a very high hill,
    And he seed his old mare down a‑making her will.
    'Well, how did you know it was your old grey mare?'
    'One foot was shod and the other three bare.'
    Now Tom Pearce's old mare, her took sick and died,
    And Tom Pearce he sat down on a stone and he cried.
    When the wind whistles cold on the moor of a night,
    Tom Pearce's grey mare doth appear, ghastly white.
    And all the long night be heard skirtlings and groans
    From Tom Pearce's grey mare down a‑rattling her bones.
    And that is the end of this shocking affair.
            All along, down along, out along, lee,
    I've just gived 'ee the career of Tom Pearce's grey mare.
            Wi’ Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy,
            Dan’l Widdon, Harry Hawk,
            Old Uncle Tom Cobbley and all,
            Old Uncle Tom Cobbley and all.
    WHERE UMBER FLOWS (Barbara Brown)
    Chris Bartram: fiddle. Tom Brown: guitar.  Keith Kendrick: English concertina.
    Tom Brown: lead vocals.  Chris Bartram: fiddle. Keith Holloway: melodeon.  Keith Kendrick: concertina.  Barry Lister: Trombone & chorus. Additional chorus: Cathy Barclay, Barbara Brown, Barry Lister.
    I've come 'ere to sing 'ee a song, for certain I shan't keep 'ee long,
    But sure as you see me, you'll have to forgive me,
    I'm bound for to sing 'n all wrong
        For I'm a most mortal unlucky ol' chap,
        Did 'ee ever 'ear tell such a case?
        From mornin' till night
        Nought never goes right,
        'Tis enough to drive any man maze.
    Now doubtless you've all a-heard tell 'bout thic prize Devon bull that I got,
    When I jumped out o' bed t'other day, 'ee was dead,
    A girt mangold was stuck back 'is drot.
    I sold all of me 'ool t'other day, for fourpence three farthing a pound,
    The very next day, me neighbour did say,
    'Ee'd gone up to sixpence all round.
    I went out t'other day wi' me dog, got stuck up to me knees in a bog,
    I were blazin' away at the rabberts all day,
    But I never shot nought but me dog.
    An' me fowls, they all died o' the Gapes, and the Rust has got into me wheat,
    An' grass is so scarce all over the place,
    That there's naught for me bullocks to eat.
    Now me chimbley's a bugger to smoke, an' me wife, 'er goes crootin' about,
    I gets soot in me broth, and fried teddies is path,
    'Tis enough to put any man out.
    An me dairy'll never keep cool, me butter an' cream's always spoiled,
    An' last Sunday Pat, our old tabby cat,
    'Er falled into the crock an' 'er boiled.
    Now, our Janner, 'ee've gone for a soldier, and Sal, 'er've picked up wi' a tramp,
    An' Sammy's a fool, though I kick'n to school,
    And young Billy's a reg'lar young scamp.
    How to pay me year's rent I dunnaw, leat the landlord'll pull something back,
    So friends, I call you, to help me pull through,
    Or 'ee's bound for for to give me the sack.


    BAMPTON FAIR (Paul Wilson)
    Tom & Barbara Brown: lead vocals. Tom Brown: English concertina
    Are you going to Bampton Fair,
                Get your beer down, bob, we're moving
    Are you going to Bampton Fair, boy?
    We'll go to the fair like we always done,
    Get in the car and give it a run,
    Get a few friends and have some fun.
                Down at the Bampton Fair, boy,
                Down at the Bampton Fair.
    Who did you see at Bampton Fair,
    Who did you see at Bampton Fair, boy?
    Old 'uns, young 'uns, me and you,
    Travellers, farmers, and visitors too,
    They even had a T.V. crew,
    What did you drink at Bampton Fair,
    What did you drink at Bampton Fair, boy?
    Twenty-one pints and one for me head,
    Or a scotch or a brandy or a pot instead,
    All served up in a muddy old shed,
    What did you buy at Bampton Fair,
    What did you buy at Bampton Fair, boy?
    A crockery set that's got no cups,
    A brand new shirt that's got no cuffs,
    A bloomin' old grai that's got no puff,
    What did you get at Bampton Fair,
    What did you get at Bampton Fair, boy?
    Two black eyes and a broken nose,
    A cut on me head and I tore me clothes,
    Caught a cold and I damn near froze,
    Will you go again to Bampton Fair,
    Will you go again to Bampton Fair, boy?
    If the pubs are open and the beer is free,
    If the landlord says, "It's all on me."
    If I can't think of anywhere else to be,


    SEEDS OF LOVE (trad.)
    Barbara Brown: vocals.  Tom Brown: guitar & octave mandola
    SOAP, STARCH & CANDLES (trad.)
    Tom Brown: lead vocals. Barbara Brown: chorus vocals.  Keith Holloway: melodeon. Ralph Jordan: duet concertina. Francis Verdigi: fiddle. 
    It was on last Easter Monday that I took a trip to ‘Combe.
    ‘Twas there I met a charming girl, and of her I’ll sing to you.
    It was on the steamboat we first met, and I felt me heart go flop,
    For she told me her name and then described to me her father’s shop, with...
    Soap, starch, candles, fender brick and turpentine,
    Pepper, glue and mustard and cod liver oil and scent,
    And black lead, clothes line, treacle, peas and fishing line,
    Colours mixed for painting, pots and brushes lent.
    When I saw them playing at ‘Kissing in the Ring’, well, I joined her in that scene.
    She always threw her glove at me to chase her round the green,
    And when I caught her, oh, what bliss to span that tender waist,
    And when I kissed her, how I said of heaven those lips did taste, with...
    Soap, starch...
    Now a year’s gone by, and her and me, we decided to get wed,
    And in the back room of the shop, well, we had a grand old spread,
    And then her father came to me, and he made me heart go flop,
    For he said to me that we could keep the corner shop, with...
    Soap, starch...   
    Tom & Barbara Brown: lead vocals. Chorus vocals: Cathy Barclay, Barry Lister, Rowan Riley, Charley Yarwood
    It was pleasant and delightful on a bright summer’s morn.
    All the hills and the meadows were covered in corn.
    The blackbirds and thrushes sang from every greenwood tree,
    And the larks they sang melodious at the dawning of day.
    And the larks they sang melodious, and the larks they sang melodious,
    And the larks they sang melodious at the dawning of day.
    Now a sailor and his true love were a-walking one day.
    Said the sailor to his true love, ‘I’m bound far away.
    I’m bound for the Indies where the loud cannons roar.
    I must go and leave my Nancy; she’s the girl I adore.’
    I must go...
    Then the ring from her finger she instantly drew,
    Saying, ‘Take this dear William, and my heart goes too.’
    And as he embraced her, tears from her eyes fell,
    Saying, ‘May I go along with you?’ ‘Nay, Nancy. Farewell.
    Saying, ‘May I...
    ‘Fare thee well, dearest Nancy, I can no longer stay,
    For the topsail is hoisted, and the anchor’s a-weigh.
    Our good ship lies waiting for the next flowing tide,
    And if ever I return again, I’ll make you my bride.’
    And if ever...   


    Barbara Brown: vocals. Tom Brown: melodeon
    I’m a beautiful Devonshire maiden
    And love all the fun of the fair.
    I’ve got a most beautiful jumper
    And ribbons to match for my hair
    But father he says I’m too flighty
    And mother says many a prayer
              But Harry and Tommy
              And Ernie and Johnny
              Are waiting for me at the fair.
    Oh the organs are playing so sweetly
    And the horse are swinging along
    I can hear all the noise and the laughter
    I’m longing to join in the throng
    Now father’s dear eyes look so anxious
    And mother says many a prayer 
              But Harry and Tommy
              And Ernie and Johnny
              Are waiting for me at the fair.
    WIVES OF ST. IVES (trad.)
    Tom Brown: lead vocals. Chorus vocals: Keith Kendrick. Barry Lister. Dave Webber. Charley Yarwood.
    It was on an Monday morning way down in old St. Ives,
    There was four and twenty fishers - there was four and twenty wives,
    Each wife, she would be talking: each wife, she would be heard,
    "It seems to me," says Jack, says he, "we shan't get in a word."
            "Clackety, clack," says Will to Jack, "Clackety, clack," says he,
    "They say out there there's mermaids fair,
    Come boys, let us go out to sea."
    So there four and twenty fishers sailed away most gallantly,
    And they met those fair mermaidens at the bottom of the sea,
    And there they've courted gaily for a thousand years or more
    'Till they remembered their wives, and old St. Ives, and thought it was time to go.
            "Clackety, clack," says Will to Jack, "Clackety, clack," says he,
    "Do you think they're at their same old crack?
    Come boys, let us go back to see."
    So these four and twenty fishers arose from out the main,
    And they came to St. Ives on a Friday, to see their wives again.
    "Alas, 'tis a thousand years boys. Perhaps they're gone." said Will,
    So they just peeped round the corner - and there they were talking still.
            "Clackety, clack," says Will to Jack, "Clackety, clack," says he,
    "Oh a chattering wife is the plague of your life,
    Come boys, let us go back to sea!"
    Barbara Brown: vocals. Tom Brown: guitar
    As I was a-walking down Watchet's Swain Street,
    A jolly old shipmate I chanced for to meet;
    Hello, brother sailor, you’re welcome to home;
    In season to Watchet I think you are come.
    Now don’t you remember once courting a maid;
    Now through your long absence she’s going to be wed;
    Tomorrow in Bristol this wedding’s to be,
    And I am invited the same for to see.
    Jack went and got license that very same night,
    And walked into Bristol as soon as ‘twas light;
    He sat in the Temple churchyard for a while
    Till he saw the bride coming, which caused him to smile.
    He went and he took this fair maid by the hand;
    You’re going to be married as I understand.
    Well, if you are to marry, then you’ll be my bride,
    And I have come here for to change your design.
    Oh, now, said this fair maid, It’s what shall I do,
    For I know I was solemnly promised to you.
    Well, it’s you are my sweetheart, and I’ll be your bride,
    For there’s none in this world I could fancy beside.
    Then the bridegroom he roared like a man that was mad,
    I’m ruined, I’m ruined, I’m ruined, he said;
    All you that have sweethearts take them while you may,
    Or else the Jack Tars they will take them away.
    THE FARMER'S BOY (trad.)
    Tom & Barbara Brown: lead vocals.  Additional chorus vocals: Doug Bailey & Tom Brown
    The sun had set behind yon hill when across a dreary moor,
    Weary and lame a boy there came up to the farmer’s door.
    ‘Can you tell me if here it be that I can find employ,
    to plough and sow, to reap and mow, to be a farmer’s boy,
                To be a farmer’s boy?
    Me father’s dead and mother’s left with five children great and small,
    And worst to bear for Mother is I’m the eldest of them all;
    Though little I’ll work as hard as a turk if you’ll give me employ
    to plough etc.
    And if you will not me employ, one favour I’ve to ask,
    Shelter me till break of day from this cold winter’s blast;
    At the break of day I’ll trudge away elsewhere to seek employ
    to plough etc.
    ‘Come, try the lad,’ the mistress said, ‘Let him no longer seek.’
    ‘Yes, do, dear Father,’ the daughter cried, and the tears trickled down her cheek.
    ‘’Tis hard to want, to seek for food and to wander for employ,
    Don’t make him go, but let him stay to be a farmer’s etc.
    In course of time, the lad grew up and the poor old couple died,
    Leaving the lad the farm that they’d had and their daughter for to be his bride.
    Now the lad that was, a man now is, often smiles and thinks with joy
    Of the happy day he came that way to be a farmer’s boy
    To be a farmer’s boy,
    And he blesses the day he came that way to be a farmer’s boy
    To be a farmer’s boy.
    Anahata: 'cello.Tom Brown: English concertina.Joan Holloway: bones. Keith Holloway: melodeon. Ralph Jordan: mandolin. Barry Lister: tuba. Paul Sartin: fiddle.
    Beyond the Quay (WGS358CD - 2008)
    WITH: Emily Askew, Hazel Askew, Doug Bailey, Joan Holloway, Keith Kendrick, Malcolm Woods.


    Tom & Barbara – vocals.  Malcolm Woods – roped tenor drum
    Now the Chesapeake so bold, out of Boston she was towed
    To meet a British frigate neat and handy-O,
    And the people of the port, they came out to see the sport,
    And the band played ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy-O’.
    Now the British frigate’s name, all for the purpose come
    To cool the Yankees’ spirit neat and handy-O,
    Was The Shannon, Captain Broke, with his men all hearts of oak,
    Who for fighting were allowed to be the dandies-O.
    Just before the fight begun said the Yankees, with much fun,
    “We’ll tow her into Boston neat and handy-O,
    And then afterwards we’ll dine with our sweethearts and our wives,
    And we’ll show those British sailors we’re the dandies-O.”
    Scarcely had the fight begun e’er they flinched from the guns
    They thought that they might use so neat and handy-O,
    Then brave Broke he drew his sword, crying “Now, me lads, we’ll board
    And we’ll stop them playing Yankee Doodle Dandy-O”;
    Notwithstanding all their brag, soon the glorious British flag
    At the Yankees’ mizzen-peak it looked so handy-O.
    Here’s a health, brave Broke, to you, with your courage strong and true
    That tamed the Yankee’s spirit neat and handy-O
    And may it ever prove, in fighting as in love
    That the young British sailor is the dandy-O;
    And may it ever prove, in fighting as in love,
    That the young British sailor is the dandy-O.
    TARRY TROUSERS (trad.)
    Barbara – vocals. Tom – guitar.  Hazel - flute.
    The tune which first makes its appearance in the instrumental section (and is repeated on the guitar thereafter) is the Irish melody The King of the Fairies – hence the reference to Orfeo in the CD notes.
    As I walked out one midsummer morning,
    The weather it being fine and clear,
    There I beheld a tender mother
    Talking to her daughter dear.
    Said the mother, ‘I would have you to marry,
    And live no longer the single life.’
    ‘Oh no,’ said she, ‘I would rather tarry
    For my jolly sailor bright.
    ‘I know you would have me wed with a farmer
    And not give me my heart’s delight,
    But give me the lad with the tarry trousers -
    Shines to me like diamonds bright.’
    ‘Oh daughter, sailors are given to roving,
    And to some foreign ports they’ll go,
    Then they’ll leave you broken-hearted
    And they’ll prove your overthrow.’
    ‘No, sailors they are men of honour,
    And they do face the enemy
    When the thundering cannons rattle
    And the bullets they do fly.’
    ‘Oh Polly, m’dear, our anchor is weighing,
    And I have come for to take my leave;
    Although I leave you, my dear jewel,
    Charming Polly, do not grieve.’
    ‘Then, Jamie m’dear, let me go with you;
    No foreign dangers will I fear;
    When you are in the height of battle,
    I will attend on you, my dear.’
    Now hark, oh hark, how the great guns do rattle
    And the small guns do make a noise;
    When they are in the height of battle,
    She cries, ‘Fight on, me jolly, jolly boys!’
    So all you young maidens, pray give attention
    If a jolly sailor is your delight;
    Never be forced to wed with another
    For all his gold and silver bright.



    PADSTOW BAR TO LUNDY LIGHT (tune & words: T.Brown)
    Barbara – vocals.  Tom – English concertina.  Emily – fiddle & cello. Keith – chorus vocals.
    Oh, the granite rocks of the Western shore,
    That face the wild Atlantic’s roar,
    With sandy bays in the summer sun,
    Turn to jaws of death when the winter comes,
    And tales of a wreck or a drowning man
    Have filled the minds of the men on land,
    Of a sailor brave or a pirate bold,
    Of vessels lost with a store of gold.
                From Padstow Bar to the Lundy light
                Is a watery grave by day or night.
    First Padstow Town and Padstow Bay,
    Where the beast on the cliffs scared the French away,
    And the mermaid fair cast her sandy bar
    As a threat to sailors from near and far;
    To the North, Pentire, Port Quin, Port Isaac Bay,
    Trebarwith Strand where the slate stands grey,
    Then Tintagel Head was Pendragon’s rest
    When the seas o’ertook the land of Lyonesse.
    Boscastle harbour the next in view,
    Where they winch the boats to the black cliff’s lew,
    Fire Beacon past, and then Cambeak strong
    Defends the haven of Crackington;
    The Dizzard rocks where in huntsmen’s song,
    Arscott of Tetcott he rode headlong
    Five hundred feet from the cliffs on high,
    And the ghostly hunt still goes riding by.
    The golden sands of Bude Bay are past;
    To the Sharpnose points we are come at last;
    Knapps Longpeak cliffs to the North rise high
    Across the border into Devonshire;
    From Hartland Point, beyond the quay
    The coast runs East into Bideford Bay;
    Clovelly; and on to Westward Ho!
    Where the galleons sailed to face the Spanish foe.
    From the shipping yard on the Torridge side,
    O’er the Bideford Bar to the ocean wide
    Sailed Frobisher, aye, and Grenville too
    In ships of fame with the world to view,
    And the seamen bold from each foreign shore
    Brought the gold back home past Appledore;
    Now Baggy, Morte and the Bull Points o’er,
    Then the waters break on the Severn shore.
    Beyond the bay lies Lundy Isle,
    And many ships did that rock beguile;
    The bold Moriscos called that land their own,
    And plundered shipping as it passed the sound;
    Cruel Coppinger and his ship Black Prince
    All along the coast robbed and killed long since,
    And Lundy still at the sailor mocks
    For the Montagu sank on the Shutter rocks.



    THE WRECK OF THE MONTAGU (words: T.Brown. tune: trad. adapted T.Brown)
    Tom – vocals. Emily - fiddle .  Hazel - melodeon.  Keith - anglo concertina
    Now you’ve all heard tales of the sea’s dark foam, and the ships that went to Davy Jones,
    But I’ll tell you a tale that is quite true, of a ship they called the Montagu
    In ninety-nine her keel was laid: strong this gallant ship was made
    To fight for the King on the ocean wide, to fear no man, nor wind nor tide.
    But on Shutter Reef they beached her high, all in the wind and the waves to lie;
    It is remembered to this day for the Montagu never got away.
    In nineteen hunderèd and three she sailed away o’er the deep blue sea,
    O’er the Mediterranean she did steer, not thinking on her last career.
    Her three years done, she home did steam with the westerèn coast on her starboard beam;
    She onward sailed both day and night ’til they thought they saw the Hartland light.
    In the fog, the captain he did say, “We’ll take her into Bideford Bay,”
    But the Hartland Point they had over-reached and on Lundy with a crash she beached.
    Now not content to leave her there, her sister, the Duncan, did draw near,
    And with all of her fourteen thousand ton, onto the reef she too did run.
    Now for seventy-two days, it’s side by side these battleships were high and dry,
    And many a fisherman seeing that show, thought he must be drunk – and went below.
    The Duncan, at last, was well repaired, and away from Lundy Isle she steered,
    But the Montagu ain’t on no map – they broke her up and they sold the scrap.
    On Shutter Reef they beached her high, all in the wind and the waves to lie;
    It is remembered to this day for the Montagu never got away.



    Tom – vocals.
    On the fourteenth of February we did sail from the land
    On the bold Princess Royal bound down to Newfoundland;
    We had forty brave seamen for our ship’s company,
    And so boldly from the eastward to the westward sailed we.
    Now on the eighteenth of February so clear blew the sky,
    When a man on our topmast a sail he did espy;
    She came bearing down us for to see what we were,
    And it’s under her mizzen peak black colours she wore.
    “Well, good God,” cries our Captain, “What shall we do now?
    Here comes a bold pirate for to rob us I know.”
    The Captain being aft my boys, the Mate’s answered him so –
    “We are come from fair London, and are bound for Callao.”
    “Oh, then it’s furl your main tops’l, aye, and heave your ship to,
    For I have got a long letter for to send home by you.”
    “I will furl me main tops’l and I will heave my ship to,
    But it will be in some harbour and not alongside of you.”
    Oh, they chased us to the windward: they did chase us that day;
    They did chase us to the windward but they could not make way,
    And they firèd shots after us, oh! but none could prevail,
    And the bold Princess Royal, she soon showed them her tail.
    “Well, thank God,” cries our captain, “Now the pirate is gone,
    Go down to your grog, me boys, go down every one;
    Go down to your grog, me boys, and be of good cheer,
    For while the Princess has sea-room, brave boys never fear.
    While the Princess has sea-room, brave boys never fear.”



    THE HERRING’S HEAD (trad.)
    Tom & Barbara – vocals.
    What have you made of me old herring’s head?
    I made the best oven that ever baked bread,
    Puddings and pies and everything,
    Don’t you think I’ve done well with me jolly herring?
    Why didn’t you tell me so?
    So I did, long ago.
    Thou lie!
    Thou lie!
    Well, well, and everything,
    Don’t you think I’ve done well with me jolly herring?
    What have you made of me old herring’s eyes?
    Forty Jackdaws and fifty magpies,
    Linnets and larks and everything.
    What have you made of me old herring’s gills?
    The finest old doctor that ever sold pills,
    Powders and potions and everything.
    What have you made of me old herring’s fins?
    A parcel of needles and a paper of pins,
    Thimble and thread and everything.
    What have you made of me old herring’s guts?
    Forty young ladies and fifty bright sluts,
    Wantons and harlots and everything.
    What have you made of me old herrings tail?
    The finest ship that ever sailed sail,
    Canvas and rigging and everything.
    What have you made of me fish as a whole?
    The biggest tall story that ever was told,
    Lies and fibs and everything,
    Don’t you think I’ve done well with me jolly herring?


    LITTLE FISHES (trad.)
    Barbara – vocals.  Tom – concertina.  Keith – chorus vocals.
    There’s a song in my heart for the one I love best,
    And her picture is tattooed all over my chest.

    Yay-ho little fishes, don't cry, don't cry.
    Yay-ho little fishes, don't cry, don't cry.

    Now the ship's underway and the weather is fine,
    And the skipper is aft hanging out the new lines.

    Little fish when he's caught he fights like a bull whale
    As he thrashes the water with his mighty tail.

    There are fish in the sea, there is no doubt about it,
    Just as fine as the ones that ever came out of it.
    Now the crew is asleep and the ocean's at rest,
    And I'm singing this song for the one I love best.



    Tom & Barbara – vocals.
    Arise ye sons of Britain, in chorus join and sing,
    Great and joyful news is come unto our royal king.
    An engagement we have had at sea,
    With France and Spain, the enemy,
    And we have gained the victory,
    On board a man of war.
    On the twenty-first of October, before the rising sun,
    We formed a line for action, me boys, at twelve o-clock begun.
    Brave Nelson to his men did say,
    The Lord will prosper us this day,
    Give them the broadside, fire away,
    On board a man of war.
    Then broadside to broadside our cannonballs did fly,
    Like hailstones the small shot around our decks did lie.
    Our masts and rigging were shot away,
    Beside, some thousands on that day
    Were killed and wounded in the fray,
    On board a man of war
    Oh then our brave commander, with grief he shook his head.
    There is no reprieve; there is no relief; brave Nelson he is dead.
    It was a fatal musket ball
    That caused our hero for to fall
    He cried “Fight on, God bless you all”,
    On board a man of war.
    Let us hope this glorious victory will surely bring us peace;
    That all the trades in England will prosper and increase;
    Our ships from port to port go free,
    No more to face an enemy,
    That Nelson died for liberty,
    On board a man of war.



    WATCHET SAILOR (trad.)
    Barbara – vocals.  Tom – guitar.  Emily - fiddle.
    As I was a-walking down Watchet's Swain Street,
    A jolly old shipmate I chanced for to meet;
    Hello, brother sailor, you’re welcome to home;
    In season to Watchet I think you are come.
    Now don’t you remember once courting a maid;
    Now through your long absence she’s going to be wed;
    Tomorrow in Bristol this wedding’s to be,
    And I am invited the same for to see.
    Jack went and got license that very same night,
    And walked into Bristol as soon as ‘twas light;
    He sat in the Temple churchyard for a while
    Till he saw the bride coming, which caused him to smile.
    He went and he took this fair maid by the hand;
    You’re going to be married as I understand.
    Well, if you are to marry, then you’ll be my bride,
    And I have come here for to change your design.
    Oh, now, said this fair maid, It’s what shall I do,
    For I know I was solemnly promised to you.
    Well, it’s you are my sweetheart, and I’ll be your bride,
    For there’s none in this world I could fancy beside.
    Then the bridegroom he roared like a man that was mad,
    I’m ruined, I’m ruined, I’m ruined, he said;
    All you that have sweethearts take them while you may,
    Or else the Jack Tars they will take them away.



    YOUNG SUSAN (trad.)
    Tom & Barbara – vocals.
    Young Susan was a blooming maid, so valiant, stout and bold,
    And when her sailor went to sea, young Susan, we are told,
    Put on a jolly sailor’s dress and daubed her hands with tar
    To cross the raging seas for love on a British man-of-war.
    It was in Portsmouth harbour this gallant ship was moored,
    And when young Susan shipped, there were nine hundred men on board;
    ‘Twas then she was contented, all bedaubed with pitch and tar,
    To be with her sweet William on a British man-of-war.
    When in the bay of Biscay, she aloft like lightning flew,
    Respected by her officers and all the jovial crew;
    In battle she would boldly run, not fearing wound or scar,
    And did her duty by her gun on a British man-of-war - and                                                                                                                               
    She faced the walls of China, where her life was not insured,
    And little did young William think that his Susan was on board,
    But by a cruel cannon ball she did receive a scar,
    And she got sorely wounded on a British man-of-war.
    When on the deck young Susan fell, of all the whole ship’s crew,
    Oh, young William was the very first who to her assistance flew;
    She said, ‘Me jolly sailor, I’ve for you received a scar.
    Behold your faithful Susan on a British man-of-war.’
    Then William on his Susan gazed with wonder and surprise;
    He stood some moments motionless while the tears stood in his eyes;
    He cried, ‘I wish instead of you I had received that scar!
    Oh love, why did you venture on a British man-of-war?’
    At length to England they returned and quickly married were;
    The bells did ring and they did sing and banished every care;
    They often think upon that day when she received that scar,
    When Susan followed her true love on a British man-of-war.



    Barbara – vocals. Tom – English concertina. Emily – sopranino recorder.
              Oh, me bonny sailor laddie, oh, me bonny sailor he,
              Oh, me bonny sailor laddie, blythe and merry may he be,
    Sailor lads have gold and silver, fisher lads have nought but brass;
    Well I love my sailor laddie because I am a sailor’s lass.
    Some delight in jolly farmers, some delight in soldiers free;
    My delight’s in a sailor laddie, blythe and merry may he be.
    How I wish the press was over and all wars were at an end,
    Then every bonny sailor laddie would be merry with his friends;
    How can I be blythe and merry with my love so far from me,
    When so many pretty sailors they are pressed and ta’en to sea?
    Oh, I wish the wars were over, peace and plenty come again,
    Then every bonny sailor laddie would come sailing o’er the main
    Don’t you see his ship a-coming, don’t you see she’s in full sail?


    Tom – vocals.
    You can smile if you’ve a mind to, but I hope you’ll lend an ear;
    We’ve been men and boys together for nearly fifty years;
    I’ve sailed upon the water in the pleasant summer days,
    And through the stormy winter when the howling winds do rage.
    I’ve been out in early season, wherever it would pay,
    Been tossed about on George’s Bank, been fishing in the bay,
    I’ve been out in different vessels from Western Banks to Grand,
    I’ve been in herring vessels that sailed down to Newfoundland.
    Oh I don’t lack for courage, but I’ll nothing say but this,
    I’m not much easier frightened than most men, if you please,
    For I’ve seen storms, I’ll tell you, when things looked rather blue,
    But someways I was lucky, and always did get through.
    This night that I am telling, we were off the shore aways;
    I never will forget it, in all my mortal days;
    I was standing in the dog-watch, I felt a shivering dread
    Came over me, as if I heard one calling from the dead.
    ‘Twas o’er the rail they clambered, all silent one by one,
    A dozen dripping sailors, - just you wait till I am done –
    Their faces pale with seaweed, shone ghostly through the night
    And each man took his station as if he had the right.
    We crewed the boat together, the living and the dead
    Till through the mist, the lighthouse, it shone its light ahead,
    And then those ghostly sailors o’er the rail were quickly gone
    And vanished in a moment before the light of dawn.
    Well, we sailed right in the harbour, and every mother’s son
    Will tell you the same story, the same as I have done;
    So now I’ve told me story, to you I will confess
    I have believed in spirits from that day onto this – you see:
    The trip before the last one, we was on George’s Bank, and we
    Ran down another vessel, and sank her in the sea;
    I think ’twas those same fellows – may God now rest their souls! –
    Who brought us safe, without revenge, from the mists on George’s Shoals.



    Tom & Barbara – vocals. Emily - fiddle. Hazel – melodeon. Keith – anglo concertina.
    Americans At Sea (trad.)   TUNE: The American Marine
    From the Halls of Montezuma
    To the shores of Tripoli
    There’s a buzz going round the harbour
    That the Yanks are off to sea
    With a gallon of Coca-Cola
    And a bloody great tub of ice cream
    Oh, they’re damn fine kids in harbour
    But Oh by Christ at sea!
    Well I couldn’t care less (trad.)   TUNE: Brighton Camp
    Well I couldn’t care less for the killick of the mess
    Or the Buffer of the working party
    I’m going ashore at a quarter past four
    I’m Jack-me-bleeding-hearty
    (Out in the) Lifeboat (trad.)   
    I’ve been out in the lifeboat all night
    Dressed up in me waterproof shirt
    I’ve been out in the lifeboat all night
    I said, “We’ve been on the alert.”
    I walked down the Strand a show for to see
    When a pretty maid in pink tights made glad-eyes at me
    So I signalled the Missus “Don’t wait up for me,
    I’ll be out in the lifeboat all night.”
    Billy Flynn (words: trad. tune:B.Brown)             
    Has anyone seen my poor Billy Flynn?
    Has anyone passed him by?
    It’s no joke, his nose is broke,
    And one eye is in a sling.
    As he hops upon his wooden leg -
    And the thought of it makes me cry –
    ‘Cause he leaves round holes
    in the mud where he goes
    that’s what you can tell him by.
    We’ll have another drink (trad.)  TUNE: The Sailor’s Hornpipe
    We’ll have another drink before the boat shoves off.
    We’ll have another drink before the boat shoves off.
    And we’ll go to Sally Rackett’s and we’ll pawn our monkey jackets
    And we’ll have another drink before the boat shoves off.


    THE BLACKBIRD (trad.)
    Barbara – vocals.
    It’s of a fair damsel, my fortune was sad,
    I was overcourted by a rakish young lad,
    I kept my love company by night and by day,
    Now my Johnny has left me and he’s gone far away.
    My love’s now a sailor; he’s neat, tall and slim,
    And there’s none in the navy that can better him;
    With his red rosy cheeks and his curly black hair,
    His flattering tongue has my heart in a snare.
    Now there’s some people say that I’m out of my mind.
    And there’s some people say that I’m large with a child,
    But it’s let them be talking and say what they will,
    For the love I’ve got for him, I’ll keep it up still.
    Now if I were a blackbird, I’d whistle and sing,
    And I’d follow the ship that my true love sails in,
    At the top of his mainmast I would build my nest,
    And at night I would gaze on his lily-white breast.
    And if I were a scholar and could handle my pen,
    I would write him a letter, to him would I send;
    So God send him safe sailing and a fair wind to blow,
    And adieu to my true love wherever he goes.
    Tom & Barbara – vocals.  Tom – harpeleik.
    You seamen bold who plough the ocean
    See dangers landsmen never know;
    It’s not for honour or promotion;
    No tongue can tell what they undergo;
    In the blusterous wind and the great dark water
    Our ship went drifting on the sea,
    Her head-gear gone and her rudder broken,
    Which brought us to extremity.
    For fourteen days, heartsore and hungry,
    Seeing but wild water and bitter sky
    Poor fellows all stood in a totter,
    A-casting lots as to which should die;
    The lot it fell on Robert Jackson
    Whose family was so very great;
    “I’m free to die, but oh, my comrades,
    Let me keep lookout till the break of day.”
    A full-dressed ship like the sun a-glittering
    Came bearing down to our relief;
    As soon as this glad news was shouted
    It banished all our pain and grief;
    The ship brought to, no longer drifting;
    Safe in St. Vincent, Cape Verde she gained;
    You seamen all who plough the ocean,
    Pray you’ll never suffer the like again.


    FIRING THE MAURITANIA (tune & words: Redd Sullivan)
    Tom & Barbara – vocals.
    Oh, in nineteen hundred and twenty four,
    I was in Liverpool on the floor;
    I went down to the Cunard office door,
    Got a job on the Mauritania.
    She surely is a slaver;
    To Hell with the Mauritania.
    The Mauritania’s stoke-hold’s a wonderful sight -
    Twenty-four fires a-burning bright,
    But you'll shovel coal from morn till night
    A-firing the Mauritania.
    Oh, the fans broke down and the fire wouldn’t draw,
    And that's what finished the twelve-to-four,
    It very soon finished the twelve-to-four
    A-firing the Mauritania.
    Now the coal was rotten and full of slate,
    And that's what buggered the four-to-eight;
    It very soon buggered the four-to-eight
    A-firing the Mauritania.
    The eight-to-twelve were far better men,
    But they were knackered by half part ten,
    Worn out and weary by half past ten
    A-firing the Mauritania.
    So come all you trimmers where e’er you be,
    A Cunard greyhound’s bloody purgat’ry;
    Just stick to the coast, and don't go deep sea
    Or firing the Mauritania.


    THE CONVICT MAID (trad.)
    Barbara – vocals.  Tom – melodeon. 
    You lads and lassies all, attend to me
    While I relate my tale of misery;
    By hopeless love was I once betrayed,
    And now I am, alas, a convict maid.
    To please my lover did I try so sore,
    Till I spent on him all my master’s store,
    Who in his wrath did so loud upbraid,
    And brought before the judge this convict maid.
    The judge his sentence then to me addressed,
    Which filled with agony my aching breast;
    ‘To Botany Bay you must be conveyed,
    For seven long years to be a convict maid.’
    Now for seven long years I toil in pain and grief,
    And curse the day that I became a thief;
    Oh, had I stuck by some honest trade,
    I ne’er had been, alas, a convict maid.


    Tom – vocals. Emily – fiddle. Hazel – melodeon.  Keith – anglo concertina.  Doug – chorus vocals.
    Sing ho, for a brave and a gallant ship, and a fair and a favouring breeze,
    A bully crew and a captain too to ferry me o’er the seas,
    To ferry me o’er the seas, my boys, to me true love far away;
    I’m taking a trip on a government ship ten thousand miles away.
                Then blow ye winds, hi-ho, a-roving I will go,
                I’ll stay no more on England’s shore to hear the music play;
                I’m off on the morning tide across the ocean wide;
                I’m taking a trip on a government ship ten thousand miles away.
    Now dark and dismal was the day when last I seen me Meg,
    She’d a government band around each hand and another one around her leg,
    And another one around her leg, me boys, as the good ship left the bay;
    “Adieu,” said she, “Remember me ten thousand miles away.”
    My true love she was beautiful, my true love she was young,
    Her eyes they shone like diamonds bright, and silvery was her tongue,
    And silvery was her tongue, me boys, though now she’s far away;
    I’m taking a trip on a government ship ten thousand miles away.
    I wish that I was a bosun bold or even a bombardier,
    I’d built me a boat and straightway float, strait to me true love steer,
    Strait to me true love steer, me boys, where them dancing dolphins play,
    Where the whales and the sharks are having their larks ten thousand miles away.
    Now the sun may shine through the London fog, or the river run quite clear,
    Or the ocean brine be turned to wine if ever I forget me dear,
    If ever I forget me dear, me boys, or the landlord’s quarter day,
    If ever I forget me own true love ten thousand miles away.
    JUST ANOTHER DAY... (WGS406CD - 2014)
    WITH: Anahata, Doug Bailey, Brenda Burnside, Jon Dyer, Mary Eagle, Keith Kendrick, Barry Lister, Matt Norman, Paul Sartin.
    A MINEHEAD LAD (words: T.Brown tune: B.Brown)
    Tom - vocal & English concertina. Paul - fiddle. Anahata - cello.
    When I was a lad I worked with me dad down on the Minehead Quay;
    We’d shoot a line at the herring time for fishing was our game,
    And me mates and I would look and sigh at the posh folk on a spree;
    We’d watch them -
    Taking a trip on a Campbell steamer
    Out on the Severn Sea
    All the ladies with their feathered hats, twirling their parasols,
    And the gents in their suits with their polished boots would promenade round the town;
    At the Beach Hotel, if you looked right well, the better-most you could see, 
    And they’d be –
    Now fishing times got very bad, and herring none at all,
    And three in hand doesn’t make a cran and your boat is in the yard,
    So came the day when I did say the fishing’s not for me, 
    So I’ll be -  
    I signed on board of a paddle steamer down from Bristol Town;
    I was bottom of the crew for a year or two until I made the grade,
    But the Germans came and spoiled our game; White Funnels turned to grey; 
    Still I’ll be -
    We cruised the coast of old England - minesweeping was our trade;
    From sound to sound we paddled round to keep the seaways clear;
    Now the war is done, it’s home I’ve come to the place where I would be,
    So no more -
    There’s no more -
    Taking a trip on a Campbell steamer
    Out on the Severn Sea
    Barbara - vocals. Tom - harpeleik & melodeon bass. Anahata - cello. Paul - oboe. Jon - flute.
    By the dangers of the ocean,
    One morning in the month of June,
    The feathery warbling songsters
    So sweetly then their notes did turn;
    I overheard a damsel,
    Seemingly in grief and woe,
    Conversing with young Bonaparte
    Concerning the bonny bunch of roses-O.
    Then up spoke young Napoleon,
    And grasped his mother by the hand,
    “Mother, I pray have patience
    Till I am able to take command.
    I’ll raise a terrible army
    And through tremendous dangers go;
    In spite of all the universe
    I’ll gain you the bonny bunch of roses-O.
    “When first you saw great Buonaparte,
    You fell down on your bended knees,
    And you asked your father’s life of him:
    He granted it most manfully;
    Then Boney took an army
    And over foreign realms did go;
    He said he’d conquer Moscow,
    Then go to the bonny bunch of roses-O.
    “‘Twas then he took an army
    With kings and princes to join his throng;
    He was so well provided,
    Enough for to sweep the world along,
    But when he came to Moscow,
    Being overcome by driven snow,
    Then Moscow was a-blazing,
    So he lost the bonny bunch of roses-O.”
    “Oh, son, don’t be so venturesome,
    For England has the hearts of oak;
    There’s England, Ireland and Scotland -
    Their unity has never been broke.
    Oh, son, look at your father:
    In St. Helena his body lies low,
    And you will follow after,
    So beware of the bonny bunch of roses-O.”
    “Oh, mother, dearest mother,
    It’s now I’m on my dying bed.
    If I had lived I’d have been clever,
    But now I droop my youthful head,
    But while our bones do moulder
    And weeping willows over grow,
    The deeds of bold Napoleon
    Will sting the bonny bunch of roses-O.”
    THE LONDON MAN O' WAR (trad.)
    Tom & Barbara - vocal.
    On the twenty-first of August in Plymouth Sound we lay;
    Our orders came on board, me boys, we could no longer stay;
    ‘Twas on the coast of Ireland, our orders did run so,
    All for to cruise and never refuse to meet with our proud foe.
    We had not sailed many a league before we chanced to spy
    A long and lofty man o’ war come bearing down so nigh;
    He hailed us in French, me boys, from whence and where we came;
    Our answer was, “From Liverpool, and the London is our name.”
    “If you’re the London man o’ war, as I suppose you be,
    We are the royal Delamore, and that you soon shall see,
    So I pray lay up your courses and let your ship lay to,
    Your mainsail stow and your boats hoist out, or else we will sink you.”
    A broadside then we gave to them; it struck them which such wonder
    To see their yards and topmast too come rattling down like thunder;
    We drove them from their quarters, they could no longer stay;
    Our guns did roar, we played so sure, and we showed them British play.
    The next broadside we gave to them, so hot our shot did fly,
    We shot away the ensign staff and down their colours lay;
    “That’s very well, that’s very well,” our captain he did say,
    “Your swords now draw and your pistols load; we’ll board without delay.”
    Now we have taken the Delamore safe into Plymouth Sound,
    And when she came to anchor, boys, we fired our guns all round;
    Here’s a health unto our captain, and all such valiant souls;
    To him we’ll drink and never flinch; round with the flowing bowl.
    Tom - vocal, English concertina, guitar.
    The lark in the morning she rises from her nest;
    She mounts all in the air with the dew all on her breast,
    And with the pretty ploughboy she’ll whistle and she’ll sing,
    And at night she’ll return to her nest back again
    As I was a-walking one morning in the spring,
    I met a young damsel; so sweetly she did sing,
    And as we were a-walking these words she did say,
    “There is no life like the ploughboy’s all in the month of May.”
    When the ploughboy has done all that he has to do,
    Perhaps to the country wake a-walking he will go,
    And there with his lassie he’ll dance and he’ll sing,
    And at night they’ll return to their own homes again.
    And as they return from the wake to the town,
    The meadows being mown and the grass is all cut down,
    If they should chance to tumble all on the new-mown hay;
    “Oh, it’s kiss me now or never,” this pretty maid would say.
    When twenty long weeks they were over and past,
    Her mummy asked the reason why she’d thickened around the waist.
    “It was the pretty ploughboy,” the damsel she did say,
    “For he caused me for to tumble all in the new-mown hay.
    “‘Twas down in that meadow before that we did part,
    He kissed me sweetly, and there he gained my heart;
    His kisses were so sweet and his humour was so free
    That in spite of my own heart, we two did agree.”
    Good luck to the ploughboy wherever he may be;
    He’ll take a pretty girl to sit upon his knee,
    And with a jug of good strong beer he’ll whistle and he’ll sing,
    For a ploughboy is as happy as a prince or a king.
    THE SEA CAPTAIN (trad.)
    Barbara - vocal. Tom - guitar. Anahata - cello. Matt - mandolin.
    It’s of a sea captain who was married of late;
    ‘Twas to a young lady, and he gained her estate;
    He was a sea captain and bound for the sea.
    But before she was bedded, he was called away,
                And sing fal the dal lal the dal day.
    There was a young squire who lived near by,
    And went to this lady resolved for to try,
    “The captain, your husband, he’s gone from home;
    I’ll make him a cuckoo before he returns.”
    So early next morning the squire arose,
    And dressed himself up in the best of his clothes;
    With coachman and footman and butler so fine,
    He goes to the lady and bids her be kind.
    So upstairs the young lady with the squire did go;
    The cook and the coachman did follow also,
    The housemaid and footman all in the next room,
    And the butler all night in the garret with Joan
    All night they did sport, and when daylight was come,
    There was fifty pounds offered for daughters or sons;
    Then said the squire, “I vow and declare,
    I’ve fathered a score in this very same year.”
    When six months were over and seven were past,
    This slender young lady grew thick in the waist;
    When eight months were over and nine they were come,
    That very same night, the captain came home.
    He took her in his arms, and he gave her a kiss,
    Saying, “Dear jewel, you’re thick in the waist!”
    “’Tis nothing but fat, love,” the lady did say;
    “Would you have me grow slender while you are at sea?”
    When supper was ended, they sat in the hall;
    This slender young lady, she gave a loud squall;
    “The colic, the colic, the colic,” she cried,
    “I’m so bad with the colic, I fear I shall die.”
    Well, the doctor was sent for, and when he came there,
    He ordered the cook some drink to prepare;
    The cook she then answered all in the same room,
    “I’m so bad with the colic, I fear I shall swoon.”
    The midwife was sent for, and when she came there,
    She delivered the lady of a beautiful heir,
    She delivered the cook, and then with the same
    The housemaid and Joan, and so ended the game.
    “Oh then,” said the captain, “There’s fun I declare,
    And for the joke’s sake, I’ll forgive you, my dear,
    But there’s one thing more, tell me if you can,
    If these four babies were got by one man?”
    MOLL OF  THE WOOD (trad.)
    Tom - vocal & melodeon. Keith - anglo concertina. Brenda - hammered dulcimer. Paul - fiddle & oboe. Matt - drum. CHORUS: Barbara, Brenda, Keith, Mary, Matt.
    As I was going along the road,
    Who should I meet but Moll in the wood;
    I stepped up to her and did her embrace,
    And she gave me a terrible smack in the face.
                Sing fal-de-ral-lal, fal-de-ral-lal,
    Then Moll of the wood and I fell out;
    I up with my fist and I gave her a clout;
    I gave her a shilling, she said it was bad;
    ‘The devil go with you,’ said Moll of the wood.
    Then Moll of the wood jumped o’er the stile;
    It caused the gentleman for to smile;
    O’er the green meadows she tripped it along,
    And Moll of the wood is the chief of my song.
    Then I followed her home without any fear,
    Thinking to treat her with wine and beer;
    ‘Get out of my house, you country clown;
    I’ll up with my ladle and break your crown.’
    Then Moll of the wood, she went to the fair
    To see what pleasure and pastime was there;
    She met a young drummer, and took him home,
    And she learnt him to beat on his rub-a-dum-dum.
    Then Moll of the wood she said to me,
    ‘I have another young man, you see;
    A country clown I never will wed,
    For I’ll have my drummer,’ said Moll of the wood.
    THE ISLE OF FRANCE (trad.)
    Barbara - vocal. Tom - guitar. Anahata - cello. Paul - cor anglais.
    The sun was far round, the clouds advanced
    When a convict came to the Isle of France;
    Around his leg he wore a ring and chain,
    And his ship it was, oh, the Shamrock Green.
    Then the coastguard waited all on the beach
    Till the convict’s boat it was all in reach;
    The convict’s chains did so shine and spark,
    Which pulled at the strings of the coastguard’s heart.
    Then the coastguard launched his little boat
    And on the ocean he went afloat;
    The birds at night take their silent rest,
    But the convict here had a wounded breast.
    “I’m from the Shamrock,” the convict cried,
    That has been tossed all on the ocean wide;
    For being unruly, sure, I do declare,
    I was doomed to transport for seven years.
    “And when six of them were gone and past,
    We were coming home for to make up our last,
    When the stormy winds did so blow and roar,
    Which cast me here on this foreign shore.”
    Then the coastguard played such a noble part,
    And with some brandy cheered the convict’s heart;
    “Although the night be so far advanced,
    You shall find a friend on the Isle of France.”
    Then a speedy letter went to the Queen
    Of the dreadful shipwreck of the Shamrock Green,
    And his freedom came by a speedy post
    To the absent convict they thought was lost.
    “God bless the coastguard,” the convict cried,
    “For he saved my life from the ocean wide.
    Now I’ll drink his health in a flowing glass,
    So here’s success to the Isle of France.
    Yes, here’s success to the Isle of France.
    HUNTING THE HARE (trad.)
    Tom & Barbara - vocal. CHORUS: Barry, Keith.
    What joys can compare with the hunting of the hare
    In the morning, boys, in the morning, boys,
    In the sweet and the pleasant weather?
    When the bugle horn does sound,
    We’ve got sport all on the ground,
    Ran-tan-tero, huzzah,
    Ran-tan-tero, huzzah,
    Ran-tan-tero, my boys, we’ll follow.
    And when poor puss arise then away from us she flies,
    And we’ll give her, boys, and we’ll give her, boys,
    One thundering and loud holler.
    And when poor puss is killed, we’ll retire from the field,
    And we’ll count, boys, and we’ll count, boys,
    On the same good run tomorrow.
    So what joys can compare with the hunting of the hare
    In the morning, boys, in the morning, boys,
    In the sweet and the pleasant weather?
    FRANKLIN (trad.)
    Barbara - vocal. Tom - English concertina. Jon - whistle.
    It was on the beach I once did roam,
    When I met a lady all alone,
    In grief lamenting, crying, “Pity me,
    And send my sailor safe over the sea.
    Now this in sorrow she did bewail,
    “Behold, you widows with an orphaned child,
    There is only one who alone can save
    The British Tar from the briny wave.
    “It was from England my love sailed out
    To find the North-West passage route
    Around the pole, where the Eskimo
    Does paddle in his skin canoe.
    “It was from England his ship set sail
    To the frozen regions in a pleasant gale;
    Then through ice and snow they did strive
    In eighteen hundred and forty-five.
    “The cruel ice came floating by
    Until the ship could make no way;
    The summer past, the winter come,
    And all of Franklin’s crew were gone.”
    SPANISH LADIES (trad.)
    Tom - vocal & guitar. CHORUS: Barbara, Brenda, Keith, Doug, Barry, Matt.
    Farewell and adieu to you Spanish ladies,
    Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain,
    For we’ve received orders to sail for old England,
    But we hope in a short time to see you again.
    We’ll rant and we’ll roar like true British sailors,
    We’ll rant and we’ll roar all on the salt sea
    Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;
    From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.
    We hove our ship to with the wind from sou’west, boys,
    We hove our ship to, deep soundings to take;
    ‘Twas forty-five fathoms with a white sandy bottom,
    So we squared our mainyard and up channel did make.
    The first land we sighted it was called the Dodman,
    Next Rame Head off Plymouth, off Portsmouth The Wight;
    We sailed past Beachy, by Fairlight and Dover,
    And then we bore up for the South Foreland light.
    Then the signal was made for the grand fleet to anchor,
    And all in the Downs that night for to lie;
    Let go your shank painter, let go your cat stopper,
    Haul up your clew garnets, let tacks and sheets fly.
    Now let every man drink off his full bumper,
    And let every man drink off his full glass;
    We’ll drink and be jolly and drown melancholy,
    And here’s to the health of each true-hearted lass.
    HEAVE AWAY ME JOHNNY (trad. new words by T.Brown)
    Barbara - vocal. CHORUS: Tom, Brenda, Keith, Barry, Matt, Doug.
    As I walked out one morning all in the month of May,
                Heave away, me Johnny, heave away,
    I thought upon the ships and trade that sailed out of our bay,
                Heave away, me jolly boys, we’re all bound away.
    Sometimes we’re bound for Wexford town and sometimes for St. John,
    And sometimes to the Med we go, just to get the sun.
    We’re running to St. Austell Bay, with coal we’re loaded down;
    A storm came down upon us before we reached Charlestown.
    There’s dried and pickled herring we’ve shipped around the world,
    Two hundred years of fishing, until they disappeared.
    It’s green oak bound for Swansea town, it’s salt we bring from France,
    But it’s down into the Indies to lead those girls a dance.
    With a cargo now of kelp, me boys, for Bristol now we’re bound,
    To help them make the glass, you know, all in that famous town.
    Flour and malt and bark and grain are on the Bristol run;
    The Jane and Susan beat them all in eighteen-sixty-one.
    We’ve sailed the world in ships of fame that came from Minehead hard,
    And Unanimity she was the last from Manson’s Yard.
    Tom & Barbara - vocal. Tom - guitar. Anahata - cello. Jon - whistle.
    We may no longer stay on shore since we are deep in debt,
    So off to Greenland bear away some money for to get,
                Brave boys,
                Some money for to get.
    In eighteen hundred and sixty-one, and March the eighteenth day,
    We hoist our colours to the top of the mast and from England we bore away.
    John Paget was our captain’s name, our ship the Lion bold;
    We weighed anchor at the bow for to face the storm and cold.
    We were twelve gallant men on board, and to the North did steer;
    Old England we left in our wake; we sailors know not fear.
    Our boatswain to the mast-head went with a spyglass in his hand;
    “There’s a whale, and a whale, and a whale-fish,” he cried, “For she blows at every span.”
    Our captain stood on the quarter-deck, and a violent man was he,
    “Overhaul, overhaul, let the davit tackle fall, and launch our boats to sea.”
    Our boat being launched and all hands aboard, and the whale was full in view,
    Resolved was every seaman bold to steer where the whale-fish blew
    Now the fish was struck, and the lines played out, and she gave such a flourish with her tail,
    She capsized the boat and we lost five men, and we could not catch that whale.
    Bad news we to the captain brought, we’d lost five prentice boys,
    Then down his colours he did haul at hearing such sad news
    “For the losing of that whale,” he said, “Doth grieve my heart full sore,
    But the losing of my five brave men doth grieve me ten times more.”
    So now, brave boys, the anchor weigh, for the winter star doth appear;
    ‘Tis time to leave this cold country, and for England let us steer
    And for England let us steer.
    REILLY (trad.)
    Barbara - vocal. Tom - guitar.
    As I walked out one evening down by a riverside,
    I overheard a fair maid as tears fell from her eyes,
    “It is a dark and stormy night,” these words I heard her say,
    “My love is on the raging seas bound for Amerikay.
    “John Reilly is my true love’s name - he lives down by the quay;
    He is as nice a young man as e’er my eyes did see;
    Now my father has great riches, but Reilly he is poor,
    And because I loved my sailor lad, he could not me endure.
    “At twelve o’clock this very day, my mother she did say,
    ‘If you’re fond of Reilly, let him leave this country;
    This very night to take his life your father’s on his way,
    So either you must go abroad, or shun his company.’
    “Oh, mother dear, don’t be severe - where can I place my love?
    My very heart lies in his breast, so constant as a dove.”
    ‘No, daughter dear, I’m not severe - here is one thousand pounds.
    Send Reilly to Amerikay to purchase you some ground.
    Soon as she got the money to her true love she did run;
    “This very night, to take your life, my father charged his gun.
    Here is a thousand pounds that my mother sent to you,
    So away unto Amerikay, and I will follow you.”
    When Reilly had the gold in hand, he straightway sailed away,
    But e’er he set his foot on board these words to her did say,
    “Here is a token of true love - we’ll break it fair in two;
    You have my heart, and half the ring; I will return for you.”
    It was three years from the time her true love sailed away,
    Young Reilly he came back again to take his love away;
    Their ship was wrecked, all hands were lost, and her father wept full sore,
    For Reilly in his true love’s arms lay drowned upon on the shore.
    And at her breast a note was found, and that was wrote in blood,
    Saying, “Cruel was my father to try to shoot my love,
    So a warning to you all, fair maids, to you fair maids so gay,
    Don’t ever leave the lad you love, but sail to Amerikay.
    Tom - vocal & melodeon. Brenda - hammered dulcimer. Keith - anglo concertina. Paul - fiddle. Jon - whistle. CHORUS: Keith, Brenda, Matt.
    Attend, you lads and lasses, a story you shall hear
    Concerning of the pretty girls that live in Devonshire;
    Their cheeks are like the roses, they’re comely, gay and fair;
    There are no girls in England like the girls of Devonshire.
                They are handsome, they are charming,
                They are comely, gay and fair;
                There are no girls in England like the girls of Devonshire.
    Through England and through Ireland and Scotland I have been,
    And over the Welsh mountains, where beauty I have seen,
    But of all the lasses in the world, I solemnly declare,
    There’s none that take my fancy like the girls of Devonshire.
    There’s Jane and Sal and lovely Anne and pretty Mary too,
    There’s Betsy and Amelia and bonny black-eyed Sue,
    Maria and Eliza and Kitty too so fair,
    May happiness attend those pretty girls of Devonshire.
    Some can brew and some can bake and some can drive the plough,
    And some can sing like nightingales whilst milking of the cow,
    Some can dance a hornpipe when they go to the fair;
    Such handsome, charming creatures are the girls of Devonshire.
    You buxom lads of England, if you wish to change your life,
    Pray hasten on to Devonshire and take yourself a wife;
    When you are tied in wedlock’s bands, in a bumper then you’ll swear
    A health unto the charming blooming girls of Devonshire.
    JUST ANOTHER DAY (words - T.Brown. tune - N.Schutze)
    Barbara - vocal. Tom - melodeon bass. Matt - mandolin. Paul - oboe. CHORUS: Barry, Mary, Keith.
    Up and down old Quay Street, all along the shore,
    Keep the home fires burning as we have done before;
    Sons of the town so far from home
    To serve the King as they’ve always done;
    A wartime day in Minehead - it’s just another day.
    All along the channel convoys come and go;
    Quay Town men are drilling, and waiting for the foe;
    U-boats are seeking for their prey
    Within the Severn every day;
    Hitler’s looking Westwards, so they gave us guns
    Mounted on the harbour – a force of many tons;
    When they were tested, hip hooray,
    The harbour wall it did give way;
    Now the guns are ready, but they can’t fire through the pier,
    So they have dismantled it to leave a sighting clear;
    But invasion’s not coming now they say;
    No need for guns - take them away;
    Down along the Quayside in the lifeboat shed,
    Lawrence took the call and this is what it said,
    “There’s something in the water, in the bay
    But what it is, no-one can say.”
    The coxswain Slade, and Escott took out the Mouette,
    Those upon the shoreline, they never will forget;
    Magnetic mine – or so they say;
    It took their lives away that day;
    So, up and down old Quay Street, all along the shore,
    Keep the home fires burning as we have done before;
    Sons of the town will soon come home
    Across the foam, no more to roam;
    Another day in Minehead - it’s just another day,
    Another day in Minehead - it’s just another day