John Roberts and Tony Barrand on Golden Hind Music HEARTOUTBURSTS Lincolnshire Folksongs collected by Parcy Grainger  

In his day Percy Grainger (1882?-1961) was an enormously popular concert pianist, and a highly original composer. His talent was recognized early on in his native Australia, and in 1895 his mother took him to Germany to study in Frankfurt, then on to England six years later. Influenced by some of the English colleagues he had befriended in Germany and by English composers such as Vaughan Williams, Grainger developed a keen interest in folksong. In the search for an English national style, many among the musical avant-garde considered traditional folksong as something of a Holy Grail. They felt that, while other countries in Europe had their own "national" music, most English composers were imitating German, French or Italian styles in their works. Indeed, Handel, England1s most famous composer, had been German by birth and disposition. As a remedy for the situation, the old folksongs which had been passed down through successive generations of the English peasantry were viewed as a stimulating new source of musical inspiration. But these songs seemed destined for rapid extinction. The ways of the industrial revolution had replaced those of the stable, rural, agrarian society. The chain of oral transmission had been broken, and what remained of the once-vibrant folksong tradition was apparently preserved only in the fading memories of a few aged and unlettered rustics. The race was on to visit the workhouses where these repositories of the communal memory were closing out their lives, and to note down the songs before they disappeared completely.

Grainger espoused the cause of English folksong with his characteristic energetic enthusiasm. Along with Frank Kidson and Lucy Broadwood, both folksong collectors and stalwarts of the Folk Song Society, he attended the North Lincolnshire Musical Competition Festival of 1905 in the market town of Brigg. Among the events was a folksong competition won by Joseph Taylor, who was to become the best of Grainger's source singers. Grainger noted a number of songs in Brigg, some of which were published in the next issue of the Folk Song Journal. The following year, not satisfied with the simplified "on-the-fly" notations he was making on the spot with paper and pencil, Grainger purchased an Edison wax cylinder recorder and resolved to start afresh. In July of 1906 he returned to Lincolnshire with his recording equipment and collected extensively in the Brigg area; hiking through the countryside with his cumbersome load, he recorded as much as he could find.
 

Grainger felt that the use of the phonograph, which made possible more precise and accurate notations, would lead to a more scientific approach to the study of folksong melody. He published some of his new transcriptions in the Folk Song Journal of 1908. These were extremely detailed and attempted to capture on paper as many different aspects of the performance as possible. Where other collectors published a simple melodic line for one verse only, Grainger transcribed the whole song with precise grace notes, melodic and rhythmic variations from verse to verse, and even phonetics to indicate subtleties of accent and dialect in the text. However, the results of his efforts were not received as enthusiastically as they might have been, and some society stalwarts even viewed him as a bit of an eccentric. Grainger was always a man ahead of his time. Today, thanks to his labors, not only do we have his detailed notations revealing so much about folksong style and performance, but we also have his recordings enabling us to experience these performances for ourselves.

At the outbreak of World War I, Grainger moved with his mother to America, where he was received enthusiastically as a concert pianist. When America joined in the war, he enlisted in the U.S. Army as a bandsman, consequently scoring many of his compositions for wind band ensemble. Grainger saw himself primarily as a composer rather than as a pianist; he used his career as a performer more to support his composing rather than as an end in itself. He continued to use the folk material he had collected: his all-time best-seller, Country Gardens, is a piano arrangement of an English Morris Dance tune. His best-known composition for band, the Lincolnshire Posy (1937), uses six Lincolnshire folksongs as its thematic material.

Grainger's main published contribution to folksong scholarship is in the Journal of the Folk Song Society, No.12 (1908). This contains his transcriptions of a number of the Lincolnshire songs and of several shanties, as well as a detailed rationale for collecting with the phonograph and character sketches of some of his singers. In this article he proposed the rudiments of a theory of modal folk-scales, that singers tended to sing in "one single loosely-knit modal folk-song scale" rather than casting their songs in separate and distinct modes. The powers-that-be were sceptical: "The Editing Committee, in considering Mr. Grainger's theories which are based on most careful observations, wish to point out that the general experience of collectors goes to show that English singers most rarely alter their mode in singing the same song."

A good selection of Grainger's and the Gramophone Company's original recordings, remastered for LP record, can be heard on Unto Brigg Fair, Leader Records LEA 4050 (1972), one side of which is devoted entirely to the singing of Joseph Taylor. This record also has excellent notes.

There have been a number of biographies of Percy Grainger. For a fascinating introduction, we recommend Percy Grainger: The Pictorial Biography by Robert Simon (SD Publications, Winston-Salem, 1987). This also contains a good bibliography. All of the songs we sing here can be found in the series of books edited by Patrick O'Shaughnessy: Twenty-One Lincolnshire Folk-Songs, More Folk Songs From Lincolnshire (Oxford University Press 1967, 1970) and Yellowbelly Ballads, Part One and Part Two, (Lincolnshire & Humberside Arts, 1975). Mr. O'Shaughnessy did a magnificent job editing these volumes, in which most of the songs come from Grainger's collection. We have drawn heavily on the thorough and painstaking research that went into these works, both in the presentation of the songs and in their annotations. We cannot recommend these books highly enough.

One of the major characteristics of folksongs is in its constant state of change. As folksingers, we have not tried to duplicate the performances on the original cylinders. We are singing songs here that over the thirty years we have been performing together have become part and parcel of our repertoire. Some of them we have known and sung for almost all of that time; others we have learned more recently. In making our choice of material from Grainger's extensive collection, we decided to include all the songs featured in the Lincolnshire Posy (Rufford Park Poachers, A Fair Maid Walking, The Lost Lady Found, Horkstow Grange, William Taylor, and Lord Melbourne). Apart from that slight constraint, we have chosen the songs that we like to sing, done in the way that we like to sing them. This is not an archive recording of songs sung just for their folkloric significance: it is a reflection of our belief in the vibrancy, character, and immediacy of these songs, gathered together here in an attempt to express our debt to Grainger for saving them the way he did, and for giving us the opportunity to hear them in much the way as he heard them from their original singers. In Grainger1s preface to the score of Lincolnshire Posy he dedicates that work "to the old folksingers, who sang so sweetly to me. Indeed, each number is intended to be a kind of musical portrait of the singer who sang its underlying melodyóa musical portrait of the singer1s personality no less than his habits of song." Grainger's efforts in the field of folksong have profoundly affected our habits of song, and we fondly dedicate this musical portrait to his memory, and to those who strive to keep that memory alive. In a 1926 Success Magazine article, Grainger wrote:

...in the folk-song there is to be found the complete history of a people, recorded by the race itself, through the heartoutbursts of its healthiest output. It is a history compiled with deeper feeling and more understanding than can be found among the dates and data of the greatest historian...

THE SONGS

Brigg Fair
After the folksong competition at Brigg (April 11, 1905), Joseph Taylor of Saxby-All-Saints sang this in private, remembering only two verses. The additional verses come from his granddaughter whose version, collected and arranged by Francis Collinson, was published in sheet music form in 1953. Mr. Taylor had learned the song from a gypsy. Grainger published a setting of it in 1911, adding two of the same extra verses which he took from another song he had collected. Delius also used the tune in his English Rhapsody, Brigg Fair. The story goes that Mr. Taylor, having been invited to a performance of this work, upon hearing his tune raised his voice and joined in.

It was on the 5th of August, the weather fair and fine,
Unto Brigg Fair I did repair; for love I was inclined.

I got up with the lark in the morning, with my heart so full of glee,
Expecting there to meet my dear; long time I wished to see.

I looked over my left shoulder to see whom I could see,
And there I spied my own true love come tripping down to me.

For it1s meeting is a pleasure, love, and parting is a grief,
But an inconstant lover is worse than any thief.

For the green leaves, they shall wither, and the branches, they will die,
If ever I prove false to thee, to the girl that loves me.

It was on the 5th of August, the weather fair and fine,
Unto Brigg Fair I did repair; for love I was inclined.

Seventeen Come Sunday
Common as a broadside as well as in aural tradition, the 3amorous encounter2 song was more popular with singers than with collectors, who often considered such lyrics unfit or unworthy of publication. This one became well known to Grainger aficionados through his 1912 chorus arrangement. It comes from Mr. Fred Atkinson of Redbourne, 1905.

As I walked out on a May morning, on a May morning so early,
I overtook a pretty fair maid just as the day was a-dawning.

Chorus:
With a rue-rum-ray, fol-the-diddle-day,
Whack-fol-lare-diddle-I-doh.

Where are you going, my pretty fair maid? Where are you going, my honey?
She answered me right cheerfully, I've an errand for my mummy.

How old are you, my pretty fair maid? How old are you, my honey?
She answered me right cheerfully, I'm seventeen come Sunday.

Will you take a man, my pretty fair maid? Will you take a man, my honey?
She answered me right cheerfully, Ooh, I dare not for my mummy.

But if you come round to my mummy1s house, when the moon shines bright and clearly,
I will come down and let you in, and my mummy shall not hear me.

So I went down to her mummy1s house, when the moon shone bright and clearly,
She did come down and let me in, and I lay in her arms till morning.

So, now I have my soldier-man, and his ways they are quite winning.
The drum and fife are my delight, and a pint of rum in the morning.

Creeping Jane
This song won Joseph Taylor first prize at the Brigg competition in 1905. Grainger noted it there, and phonographed it the following year. Mr. Taylor, well into his seventies, had learned it as a boy, 3from an old woman in Binbrook.2

I'll sing you a song, and a very pretty one, concerning Creeping Jane-O,
Why, she never saw a mare nor a gelding in her life that she valued at the worth of half a pin,

Chorus:
Lal-the-day-de-ay, the diddle-al-the-day-O
Why, she never saw a mare nor a gelding in her life
that she valued at the worth of half a pin, Lal-the-day.

Now when that they came to the second milepost, Creeping Janey was far behind-O,
Then the rider flung his whip around her bonny little neck, and he said, My little lassie, never mind.

Now when that they came to the third milepost, Creeping Janey looked blithe and smart-O,
And then she lifted up her little lily-white foot, and she flew past them all like a dart.

Now Creeping Jane the race has won, and she1s scarcely sweat one drop-O,
Why, she1s able for to gallop all the ground o'er again, while the others are not able for to trot.

Now Creeping Jane is dead and gone, and her body lies on the cold ground-O,
I'll go down unto her master one favor for to beg, just to keep her little body from the hounds.

Turpin Hero
From Mr. David Belton, blacksmith, at Ulceby, July, 1906. Dick Turpin was perhaps the most famous of England's highwaymen, thanks in good part to a 19th Century novel, Rookwood, which recounts the famous ride to York on his horse Black Bess. This reputedly provided him with an alibi good enough to satisfy a jury. There is a lesser-known but more accurate song which relates this same tale with its proper hero, Nevison, who was hanged in York in 1685, twenty years before Turpin was born: Grainger also phonographed a set of Bold Nevison from Joseph Taylor. Jack Ketch, mentioned in the last verse of the song, was public executioner during the reign of Charles II. He gained notoriety for his clumsy dispatching of Lord Russell in 1683 and of the Duke of Monmouth two years later, for whom Ketch needed five strokes with the axe and even then had to finish the beheading with a knife. His name became associated with executioners, including hangmen, for over two hundred years, and at times the condemned man would indeed pay the hangman, in hopes of a tidy job.

As Dickie rode out all across yon moor, he spied a lawyer riding out before
He rode up to him and he thus did say, Have you seen Dickie Turpin ride this way?

Chorus:
To my heigh-ho, Turpin hero, I am the valiant Turpin-O.

Oh aye, lad, Dickie says, Oh I1ve been cute, I've hid my money in my old top boot,
Then says the lawyer, He shan't have mine, for I hid it in my greatcoat cape behind.

So they rode along together till they came to a hill, where he bid the old lawyer to stand quite still,
He says, Your greatcoat cape it must come off, for my Black Bess wants a new saddle-cloth.

So now I've robbed you of all your store, you may go and work for more,
And the very next town that you ride in, you can tell 'em you was robbed by Dick Turpin.

But wasn't Dickie caught so hard and fast, for killing of an old gamecock at last,
He says, Here's fifty pound, before I die, to give Jack Ketch for a lad like I.

The White Hare
A hunting song from Joseph Taylor. This was on one of the seven discs he made for the Gramophone Company. Grainger had recorded one stanza in 1906. It is interesting to note that Mr. Taylor1s memory of texts was not his strong point, and in many instances he could recall few, if any, verses to a song. Fortunately this failing did not seem to extend to his memory for tunes, which, almost without exception, are among the finest ever recovered in English tradition.

Oh, near Howden town, near Howden town, as I have heard 'em tell,
There once was a white hare, she used there to dwell,
She'd been hunted by beagle dogs and greyhounds so fair
But never a one amongst 1em could come near this old white hare,

Chorus:
To me right fol-the-diddle-lol the right fol-the-day.

Says Jim Smith, the huntsman, to Tom the whipper-in,
Go down to yonder fern side to see if she be in.
Well, at that she gave a jump, my boys, and away she did run,
And yonder she is going, don1t you see her, gentlemen?

Well the footmen they did run, and the horsemen they did ride,
Such holloing and shouting there was on every side,
Such holloing and shouting I never before did know,
And all the men were crying, Tally Ho! Tally Ho!

There were twenty good beagle dogs that caused her to die,
There wasn't a one amongst 1em above a foot high,
The number of these beagle dogs there never could be found,
And never better hunting upon our English ground.

Rufford Park Poachers
This is another of the songs Joseph Taylor recorded for the Gramophone Company, though it was not issued. Grainger used it in Lincolnshire Posy as "Rufford Park Poachers (Poaching Song)." Indeed, it tells a dramatic tale of an event that took place in 1851, when Mr. Taylor was a young man. A gang of thirty or forty poachers was attacked by ten gamekeepers, one of whom was mortally wounded during the battle. Four of the poachers were tried for his murder, found guilty of manslaughter, and sentenced to transportation for fourteen years. Mr. Taylor remembered only three verses of the ballad, and Patrick O'Shaughnessy, who discovered a broadsheet giving an account of the trial, completed the text.

A buck or doe, believe it so, a pheasant or a hare
Were sent on earth for every man quite equally to share.

Chorus:
So poacher bold, as I unfold, keep up your gallant heart,
And think about those poachers bold, that night in Rufford Park.

Among the gorse, to settle scores, these forty gathered stones,
To make a fight for poor men1s rights, and break the keepers1 bones.

The keepers went with flails against the poachers and their cause,
To see that none again would dare defy the rich man1s laws.

The keepers, they began the fray with stones and with their flails,
But when the poachers started, oh, they quickly turned their tails.

Upon the ground, with mortal wound, head-keeper Roberts lay,
He never will rise up until the final Judgment Day.

Of all that band that made their stand to set a net or snare
The four men brought before the court were tried for murder there.

The judge he said, For Roberts1 death transported you must be,
To serve a term of fourteen years in convict slavery.

Final Chorus:
So poacher bold, my tale is told, keep up your gallant heart,
And think about those poachers bold, that night in Rufford Park.

Lord Bateman was a noble lord, a noble lord of some high degree,
He set his foot all in a ship, some foreign country he would go see.

He sailed east, and he sailed west, until he came to proud Turkey,
Where he was taken and put in prison, till of his life he was quite weary.

All in this prison there grew a tree, it grew so stout and it grew so strong,
Where he was chained all by the middle, until his life it was almost gone.

This Turk, he had an only daughter, the fairest creature my two eyes did see,
She stole the key from her father1s pillow, and said Lord Bateman she would set free.

Oh, have you houses, and have you lands, and does Northumberland belong to thee?
And what would you give to the fair young lady as would release you and set you free?

Oh, I have houses, and I have land, and half Northumberland belongs to me;
I'd give it all to the fair young lady as would release me and set me free.

She took him to her marble parlor, she gave him cake and a bottle of wine,
And every health that she drank unto him, I wish, Lord Bateman, that you were mine.

And it's seven long years I'll make a vow, and seven long years I will keep it strong,
If you will wed with no other woman, then I'll not wed with no other man.

She took him to her father's harbor, she gave to him a ship of fame,
Farewell and adieu to you, Lord Bateman, I fear I'll never see you again.

Now the seven long years were past and gone, and fourteen days, well-known to me,
She set her foot all in a ship, and said Lord Bateman she would go see.

And when she1s come to Lord Bateman's castle, she knocked so loudly upon the pin,
And who should come down but the proud young porter, to rise and let this fair lady in.

Is this here Lord Bateman's castle, and is Lord Bateman here within?
Oh yes, oh yes, said the proud young porter, he1s just now taken his new bride in.

Tell him to bring me a loaf of bread, a bottle of the very best wine,
And not to forget the fair young lady as did release him when close confined.

What news, what news, my proud young porter? What news, what news? Now, tell to me.
There is the fairest of all young ladies as ever my two eyes did see.

She bid you send her a loaf of bread, a bottle of the very best wine,
And not to forget the fair young lady as did release you when close confined.

Lord Bateman he flew in a passion, he broke the table in splinters three,
I'll wager all my father's lands and riches that my Sophia has come from sea.

Then up and spoke the young bride1s mother, who never was known to speak so free,
What will you do for my only daughter, if your Sophia has come from sea?

I own I wed your only daughter, she's neither the better nor the worse for me,
She came to me on a horse and saddle, she shall ride home in a carriage and three.

Then he's prepared another wedding, and both their hearts so full of glee,
Oh, never more will I sail the ocean, now my Sophia has come to me.

The Gypsy's Wedding Day
I first heard this years ago in an American version, with refrain, sung by Dallas Cline. I was surprised to find later that her song was so closely related to this set from Joseph Taylor. The song was in the repertoire of several of Grainger's source singers, and was known as a broadside. When Grainger published it in the Journal, Lucy Broadwood commented: "I doubt its being 'country-made,' or of any great age." Anne Gilchrist added, comparing it to The Nutting Girl, "Neither of them have the appearance of genuine folk-airs." What is a folksong? The debate still continues.

My father is the king of the gypsies, that is true,
My mother, she learned me some camping for to do,
They put a pack upon my back, they all did wish me well,
So I set off for London, some fortunes for to tell.

As I was a-walking a fair London street,
A handsome young squire I chanced for to meet,
He viewed my brown cheeks, and he liked them so well,
He said, My little gypsy girl, can you my fortune tell?

Oh yes, I returned, Give me hold of your hand,
For you have got riches, and you1ve houses, and you've land,
But all those pretty maidens, you must put them to one side,
For I'm the little gypsy girl that is to be your bride.

Now once I was a gypsy girl, but now a squire1s bride,
I've servants to wait on me, and in my carriage ride,
The bells they shall ring merrily, and sweet music play,
And crown the glad tidings of the gypsy1s wedding day.

A Fair Maid Walking
The "broken token" theme is well known, and many versions of this particular story line exist. Grainger recorded this one in 1906 from Mrs. Thompson at Barrow-on-Humber. It appears in Lincolnshire Posy as TheBrisk Young Sailor (who returned to wed his True Love).

A fair maid walking all in her garden, a brisk young sailor she chanced to spy,
He stepped up to her thinking to woo her, cried thus: Fair maid, can you fancy I?

You seem to be some man of honor, some man of honor you seem to be,
I am a poor and lowly maiden, not fitting, sir, your servant for to be.

Not fitting for to be my servant? No, I've a greater regard for you.
I'd marry you, and make you a lady, and I'd have servants for to wait on you.

I have a true love all of my own, sir, and seven long years he's been gone from me,
But seven more I will wait for him; if he's alive, he'll return to me.

If seven long years thy love is gone from thee, he is surely either dead or drowned,
But if seven more you will wait for him, if he's alive, then he will be found.

He put his hand all in his bosom, his fingers they were both long and small.
He showed to her then the true-love token, and when she saw it, down then she did fall.

He took her up all in his arms, and gave her kisses, one, two and three,
Here stands thy true and faithful sailor, who has just now returned to marry thee.

The Lost Lady Found
This is the one ballad presented here that Grainger did not collect himself, though he published a vocal setting of it and he also used it as the finale of the Lincolnshire Posy?3åThe Lost Lady Found1 (Dance Song).2 It does have a Lincolnshire provenance, as Lucy Broadwood collected the tune from her old nurse, Mrs. Hill, a native of Stamford. Grainger arranged it with a text he had collected from Mr. Fred Atkinson in 1905, and we have used that pairing here.

'Twas down in yon valley a fair maid did dwell,
She lived with her uncle, they all knew full well,
'Twas down in yon valley where violets grew gay,
Three gypsies betrayed her and stole her away.

Long time she1d been missing, and could not be found;
Her uncle, he searched the country around,
Till he came to the trustee, between hope and fear,
The trustee made answer, She has not been here.

The trustee spoke over with courage so bold,
I fear she's been lost for the sake of her gold,
So we'll have life for life, sir, the trustee did say,
We'll send you to prison, and there you shall stay.

There was a young squire that loved her so,
Oft times to the schoolhouse together they did go,
I'm afraid she's been murdered, so great is my fear.
If I'd wings like a dove I would fly to my dear.

He traveled through England, through France and through Spain,
Till he ventured his life on the watery main,
And he came to a house where he lodged for a night,
And in that same house was his own heart's delight.

When she saw him, she knew him, and fled to his arms;
She told him her grief while he gazed on her charms.
How came you to Dublin, my dearest, I pray?
Three gypsies betrayed me and stole me away.

Your uncle's in England, in prison does lie,
And for your sweet sake is condemned for to die.
Carry me to old England, my dearest, she cried.
One thousand I1ll give thee, and will be your bride.

When they came to old England her uncle to see,
The cart it was under the high gallows tree;
Oh, pardon, oh, pardon, oh, pardon I crave. I'm alive,
I'm alive, your dear life to save.

Then from the high gallows they led him away,
The bells they did ring and the music did play,
Every house in that valley with mirth did resound,
As soon as they heard the lost lady was found.

Sprig of Thyme
A number of related laments share the symbolism of thyme as virginity, the rose as true love, the willow as false love, and so on, The Seeds of Love being perhaps the best-known. This version is from Joseph Taylor.

Once I had a sprig of thyme; it prospered by night and by day,
Till a false young man came a-courting to me, and he stole all my thyme away.

The gardener was standing by. I asked him to choose for me;
He chose me the violet, aye, the lily and the pink, but I really did refuse all three.

For the violet I did not like because it fades so soon,
The lily and the pink I do really overthink, and I vowed I would wait till June.

For in June there is the red and rosy bud, and that is the flower for me,
I pulled and I plucked at that red and rosy bud, till I gained the willow tree.

But thyme it is the prettiest thing, and thyme it will prove kind,
And thyme it1ll bring all things to an end, and so does my thyme go on.

Well, it1s very nice a-drinking ale, and it's nice to have a drop of wine,
Oh, but I like sitting by that young man's side, that has gained this heart of mine.

Riding Down to Portsmouth
Though the motif of a chance liaison followed by the contraction of a social disease was a familiar one, folksong collectors in Grainger1s time tended not to publish it or even collect it, except in disguised form. The Saucy Rambling Sailor is perhaps the best known example of the genre. This one was phonographed from George Wray in 1906. Mr. O'Shaughnessy characterizes "gallus," in the last verse, as "deserving the gallows." It is perhaps a dialect corruption of "callous.2"

As a sailor was a-riding all along, in the height of his glory;
As a sailor was a-riding all along, I'll relate to you my story.
Oh, he lit upon a lassie by the way and these words unto her he did say,
Will you go along of me straight away, a-riding down to Portsmouth?

If I was to go along with you, it's I must be married.
If I was to go along with you, it's I must be carried.
But she went along of him straight away, and she lay in his arms until day,
Then she left him all the reckoning to pay, a-riding down to Portsmouth.

Oh, when that she awoke all in the morn, and found her love was snoring,
These words unto herself she then did say, You shall pay for your wooing.
All the money that you haven1t spent in wine, well, the rest of it, it shall now be mine,
Then she left the jolly sailor for to pine, a-riding down to Portsmouth.

And when that he awoke all in the morn, and found his love was missing,
These words unto himself he then did say, I have paid for my kissing.
She has robbed me of my gold watch and purse; she has given to me something ten times worse.
Don't you think that I've a reason for to curse, a-riding down to Portsmouth?

Oh, landlord, what have I got to pay, that I might reward you?
Oh, landlord, what have I got to pay, that I might regard you?
There's my little horse, I leave it into pawn, until that from the wars I do return,
Then those gallus, gallus girls I will shun, a-riding down to Portsmouth.

Horkstow Grange
'Horkstow Grange' (The Miser and His Man? a local tragedy) was sung to Grainger by George Gouldthorpe, and tells a somewhat ambiguous story of a local happening. Grainger wrote in his manuscript: "John Bowlin' was a foreman at a farm at Horkstow, and John Steeleye Span was waggoner under him. They fell out, and J. S. Span made these verses."  Often, these particularly local songs would be written as parodies of other folksongs, in much the way that Woody Guthrie, for example, wrote a great deal of his material. Even if not immortalized by this particular song, the name of Steeleye Span lives on! (Folk Rock historians take note).

In Horkstow Grange there lives an old miser, you all do know him as I've heard tell,
It was him and his man that was called John Bowlin', they fell out one market day.

Chorus:
Pity them what see him suffer, pity poor old Steeleye Span,
John Bowlin's deeds they will be remembered, Bowlin's deeds at Horkstow Grange.

Steeleye Span, he was felled by John Bowlin', it happened to be on a market day;
Steeleye swore with all his vengeance, he would swear his life away.

The "Rainbow"
Also known as The Female Captain or The Female Warrior, this tale of a heroic woman taking command of a beleaguered warship came to Grainger at Brigg in 1906, from George Orton of Barrow-on-Humber.

Oh, as we were a-sailing down by the Spanish shore,
Where the guns did rattle and the loud cannons did roar,
There we spied a lofty army, come bearing over the main,
Which caused us to hoist up our topmost sail again.

Oh, our captain says, Be ready, oh, he says, My boys, stand true,
To face the Spanish army we lately did pursue
To face the Spanish army come bearing down so wide,
And without a good protection, boys, we1ll take the first broadside.

Well, it was broadside to broadside these vessels o1er they went,
A-sinking one another, it was their full intent,
At the very second broadside, our captain he got slain,
And a damsel jumped in his place to give command again.

Well we fought for nearly four hours, for full four hours and more,
Till there was scarce a man on board our gallant ship could steer,
Till there was scarce a man on board could fire off a gun,
And the blood from our decks like the river it did run.

Oh for quarters, for quarters the Spanish lads did cry,
You've had the best of quarters, this damsel did reply,
You have had the best of quarters that e1er I can afford,
You must fight, sink, or swim, my boys, or jump overboard.

Oh, now the war is over and we'll take a glass of wine.
You can drink to your true love, and I will drink to mine.
Here1s a health unto that damsel who fought all on the main,
She has a lofty, gallant ship, the Rainbow by name.

William Taylor
Here we have a woman disguising herself as a man and enlisting in the army in order to search for her 3true love2 who has abandoned her. (In other variants he has been press-ganged, often on his wedding day). This story was very popular, and the song has been collected with several good tunes. This one comes from Joseph Taylor; Grainger had a very similar version from George Gouldthorpe.

I'll sing you a song about two lovers, oh, from Lichfield town they came;
The young man1s name was William Taylor, Sarah Grey was the lady1s name.

William Taylor he has 1listed, for a soldier he has gone.
He's gone and left his own true lover for to weep and for to mourn.

Sarah's parents did despise her, filled her heart with grief and woe,
So then at last she1s vowed and told them for a soldier she would go.

She dressed herself in man1s apparel, man's apparel she's put on,
Then for to seek her own true lover, for to seek him she has gone.

One day as she was exercising, exercising, one, two, three,
A silver chain pulled down her waistcoat, and exposed her lily-white breast.

The sergeant-major stepped up to her, asking her what brought her here,
I've come to seek for my true lover, who has proved to me severe.

If you've come to seek for your true lover, I pray you, tell to me his name.
His name it is bold William Taylor, oh, from Lichfield town he came.

Well, if his name be William Taylor, William Taylor is not here,
He's lately married a rich young lady, worth ten thousand pounds a year.

But if you rise early in the morning, just before the break of day,
Right here you1ll find bold William Taylor, walking out with his lady gay.

So she rose early in the morning, just before the break of day,
Right there she spied bold William Taylor, walking out with his lady gay.

So then she's called for a sword and a pistol, which were brought at her command,
She fired and shot bold William Taylor, with his lady at his right hand.

Then the captain stepped up to her, pleased well at what she1s done;
He's gone and made her a bold commander, over a ship and all its men.

So, come all young men from Wells and London, if 'twere served the same as she,
It's very sad would be young women: very scarce young men would be.

Lord Melbourne
In Lincolnshire Posy this is categorized as "Lord Melbourne1 (War Song)," where it is given a fanfare-like, almost arhythmic treatment. The song is better known as Lord Marlborough, to whom it properly refers. John Churchill (1650?-1722), 1st Duke of Marlborough, soldier and statesman, is perhaps best known for his "glorious victories" against the French at Blenheim and Ramillies. He was a meticulous planner, and was also known for his consideration of the welfare of his soldiers, which is perhaps why he became so popular in balladry. He was also an ancestor of Winston Churchill, whose elder brother Charles became the 9th Duke of Marlborough in 1892.

I am an Englishman to my birth,Lord Melbourne is my name;
In Devonshire I first drew breath, that place of noble fame.
I was beloved by all my men, by kings and princes likewise.
I never failed in anything, but won great victories.

Then good Queen Anne sent us on board, to Flanders we did go,
We left the banks of Newfoundland to face our daring foe.
We climbed those lofty hills straightway, with broken guns, shields likewise,
And all those famous towns we took, to all the world1s surprise.

King Charles the Second we did reserve, to face our foemen French,
And to the battle of Ramillies we boldly did advance.
The sun was down, the earth did shake, and I so loud did cry,
Fight on, my lads, for old England1s sake, we1ll gain the field, or die.

And now this glorious victory1s won, so boldly keep the field,
When prisoners in great numbers took, which forced our foe to yield.
That very day my horse was shot all by a cannonball,
As soon as I got up again, my aide-de-camp, he did fall.

Now on a bed of sickness lie, I am resigned to die,
You generals all and champions bold, stand true as well as I.
Stand to your men, take them on board, and fight with courage bold,
I've led my men through smoke and fire, but now to death must yield.

Lisbon
"Lisbon Bay  (Sailor's Song)" opens the Lincolnshire Posy suite. Grainger had it from Mr. Deene, at Brigg Union Workhouse. Mr. Deene had a weak heart, and became so emotional remembering the old song that the workhouse matron would not let him complete it. Grainger returned a year later with the phonograph, and, though Mr. Deene had been injured in a fall and claimed he was too weak to sing, started to play him some of his recordings of other singers. At that he proclaimed that he would sing, and did so with much pleasure. As Grainger puts it in his notes to Lincolnshire Posy, "I thought he might as well die singing it as die without singing it."

'Twas on a Monday morning, all in the month of May,
Our ship she weighed her anchor, all for to sail away;
The wind did from the southwest blow, for Lisbon we were bound,
The hills and dales were covered with pretty young girls around.

I wrote a letter to Nancy, for her to understand
That I should have to leave her, unto some foreign land,
She said, My dearest William, these words will break my heart,
Oh, let us married be tonight, sweet Willie, before you start.

For ten long weeks and better I1ve been with child by thee,
So stay at home, dear William, be kind and marry me.
Our captain has commanded us, and I shall have to go,
The Queen's in want of men, my love, I1d never dare answer, No.

I'll cut my long yellow hair off, your clothing I'll put on,
And I will go with you, love, and be your waiting-man,
And when it is your watch on deck, your duty I will do,
I'd face the field of battle, love, in order to be with you.

Your pretty little fingers, they are both long and small,
Your waist it is too slender to face the cannonball,
For loud the cannons rattle, love, and blazing bullets fly,
And silver trumpets sound, my love, to cover the dismal cry.

Pray do not talk of danger, for love is my desire,
To see you in the battle, and with you spend my time,
And I will go through France and Spain, all for to be your bride,
And I will lay me down upon the battlefield at your side.

'Twas on a Monday morning, all in the month of May,
Our ship she weighed her anchor, all for to sail away;
The wind did from the southwest blow, for Lisbon we were bound,
The hills and dales were covered with pretty young girls around.

Died for Love
This poignant little song comes from Joseph Taylor. It is closely related to laments such as O Waly Waly, The Butcher Boy, I Wish I Wish, and, in a lighter student vein, There is a Tavern in the Town.

I wish my baby it was born, lying smiling on his father's knee,
And I, poor girl, was dead and gone, and the green grass growing all over me.

I wish, I wish, but it1s all in vain, I wish I was a maid again;
But a maid again I never can be, since that young farmer came courting me.

Dig me a grave both long and deep, put a marble slab at my head and feet;
But a turtle-white dove put over above, to let the world know that I died for love.