|Author||Topic: Add: Adieu to Old England|
|dmcg||Posted - 05 Apr 08 - 07:00 am|
Once I could ride in my coach with horses to draw me along,
but now I am stirrup and stirrup so strong and in irons and chains I am bound.
Here's adieu to Old England adieu, and adieu to some hundreds of pounds -
if the world had been ended before I was born my troubles I never should know.
Once I could eat of the best, the bestest of the brown bread,
but now I am glad for the hard mouldy crust and glad I could get it to eat.
Once I could drink of the best, the bestest of ale so brown,
but now I am glad of a cup of spring water that runneth from town to town.
Oh once I could lie on my bed; my bed was the softest of down,
but now I am glad of a lock of chair straw to keep me up from the cold ground.
Cecil Sharp collected this from Charles Ash of Crowcombe, North Somerset.
I would be grateful for any further information such as the date it was collected, and any book in which was subsequently printed. See the
In 1962 a slightly different version was published (without a tune) by James Reeves in "The Idiom of the people." This second version was collected in 1907 from Jacob Giblett, aged 77, of Westhay in Somerset (near Meare). This second version has the following lyrics.
Adieu to Old England, adieu and adieu
and adieu to some hundreds of pounds
If the world had been ended before I was born
my sorrow I'd never have known.
Once I could drink of the best -
the very best brandy and rum,
but now I am glad of a cup of spring water
that flows from town to town.
Once I could eat of good bread,
good bread that was made with good wheat -
now I am glad of a hard moulded crust
and glad that I get it to eat.
Once I could lie on a good bed,
a good bed that was made of soft down -
but now I am glad of a clot of clean straw
to keep myself from the cold ground.
Once I could ride in my carriage
with servants to drive me along -
now I'm in prison in prison so strong
not knowing which way to turn.
Edited By dmcg - 05 Apr 08 - 08:48 am
Edited By dmcg - 09 Apr 08 - 06:03 pm
||Posted - 05 Apr 08 - 08:15 am|
16 September 1908. Mr Ash was 63. It was printed in Maud Karpeles (ed), Cecil Sharp's Collection of English Folk Songs. Oxford University Press, 1974. II, 137-8; and nowhere else so far as I know. The text quoted here differs in places from that in Karpeles, and in the staff notation 'I' (antepenultimate bar) should be an F#, not a G.
Did your correspondent say where they got it?
ROUD index, not 'Round'!
|dmcg||Posted - 05 Apr 08 - 08:46 am|
I know it is 'Roud'; it is my fingers that don't! (Corrections made as suggested, as both are transcription errors on my part. It doesn't do to have Shirley Collins singing in your memory while you are trying to type slightly different lyrics.)
As my correspondent is a visitor to this site he may be able to say where he got it, Malcolm.
||Posted - 05 Apr 08 - 10:20 am|
That would be helpful. If from Karpeles, then there are several mistakes in the text transcription. If directly from Sharp's notebook, then the inconsistencies may be down to his handwriting.
|dmcg||Posted - 08 Apr 08 - 01:13 pm|
I have now heard that this is indeed based on the version that was printed in Maud Karpeles (ed), Cecil Sharp's Collection of English Folk Songs. However, there is at least one further person between the book and the copy my source had.
Did Mr Ash lived in "Crowbridge" or in "Crowcombe" ? Also, can anyone confirm whether Jack Giblett lived in the Westhay in Dorset or the one in Somerset
||Posted - 09 Apr 08 - 12:16 am|
Crowcombe. I don't think there is a Crowbridge in Somerset, is there?
Jacob (not Jack) Giblett lived in the Somerset Westhay (near Meare).
As a rule, information in Roud is correct. Your correspondent (or whoever copied the song out for them) seems to have garbled some of the background information as well as the words.
|Posted - 03 Dec 12 - 09:21 am|
does anybody know why the poor guy ended in prison? The song looks like an emirgant-song but I don't get the last verse.
Thanks for helping, Teddy