1. |
Storytime With Craven
06:42
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Long Lankin was a mason as good as laid stone,
He built Lord Arnold's castle, the Lord paid him none.
Long Lankin he swore, revenged he’d be,
Upon Lord Arnolds castle, and on his family.
Said the Lord to the lady, “I’m going from home,”
“But what,” she did say, “if Long Lankin should come?”
So she's kept the doors fastened, the windows all pinned,
Not even a flap for the dog to get in.
As soon as Lord Arnold had rode out of sight,
Out crept Long Lankin out of the dark night.
The doors were all fastened, the windows pinned in,
By hatch nor by latch could long Lankin get in.
There was no way in, not even a crack,
But the nurse she came down, let him in through the back.
Scheming together like Jack and like Jill,
The Lady for to butcher, the babe for to kill.
“So where's the heir of the household?” cried Long Lankin.
“He's asleep in his cradle,” says the false nurse to him.
“We'll pinch him, we'll prick him all over with a pin.
And that'll make his lady to come down to him.”
So they pinched him, they pricked him all over with a pin.
The false nurse held the basin for the blood to drip in.
“Oh nurse how you slumber, oh nurse how you sleep,
You leave my little babe for to cry and to weep.”
“Well, I've tried him with milk, I've tried him with pap.
Come down, my pretty lady, and rock him in your lap.”
“I've tried him with rattle, tried him with bell.
Come down, my pretty lady, and rock him yourself.”
So down came the lady, expecting no harm.
Long Lankin stood ready to catch her in his arms.
There's blood in the kitchen, blood in the hall,
Blood in the parlour where the lady did fall.
Her handmaid stood out at the window so high,
She saw her lord and master come riding close by.
“Oh master, oh master, don't lay no blame on me.
'Twas the false nurse and Lankin that killed your lady.”
As soon as the lord had heard what was done,
Tears from his eyes started to run.
Long Lankin was hanged on the gallows so high.
The false nurse was burned in the fire close by.
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2. |
Arthur Mcbride
03:58
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Oh, me and my lover, one Arthur McBride,
As we went out a walking down by the seaside,
Now, mark what followed and what did betide,
For it being on Christmas morning.
Out for recreation, we went on a tramp,
And we met Sergeant Napper and Corporal Vamp,
And a little wee drummer, intending to camp,
For the day being pleasant and charming.
"Good morning, good morning," the sergeant did cry,
"And the same to you gentlemen," we did reply,
Intending no harm just, meant to pass by,
For it being on Christmas morning.
Says he, "My fine fellows if you will enlist,
It's ten guineas in gold I will slip in your fist,
And a crown in the bargain for to kick up the dust,
And drink the king's health in the morning."
"For a soldier he leads a very fine life,
And he always is blessed with a charming young wife,
And he pays all his debts without sorrow or strife,
And always lives pleasant and charming."
"And a soldier he always is decent and clean,
In the finest of clothing he's constantly seen,
While other poor fellows go dirty and mean,
And sup on thin gruel in the morning."
But, says Arthur, "I wouldn't be proud of your clothes,
For you've only the lend of them as I suppose,
And you dare not change them one night, for you know,
If you do you'll be flogged in the morning."
"And although that we are single and free,
We take great delight in our own company,
And we have no desire strange faces to see,
Although that your offers are charming."
"And we have no desire to take your advance,
All hazards and dangers we barter on chance,
For you would have no scruples to send us to France,
Where we would get shot without warning."
"Oh now!", says the sergeant, "I'll have no such chat,
And I neither will take it from spalpeen or brat,
For if you insult me with one other word,
I'll cut off your heads in the morning."
And then Arthur and I we soon drew our hods,
And we scarce gave them time for to draw their own swords,
When a trusty shillelagh came over their heads,
And bade them take that as fair warning.
And their old rusty rapiers that hung by their side,
We flung them as far as we could in the tide.
"Now take them out, Devils", cried Arthur McBride,
"And temper their edge in the morning"
And the little wee drummer we flattened his pow,
And we made a football of his rowdeydowdow,
Threw it in the tide for to rock and to row,
And bade it a tedious returning.
And having no money, we paid them off in cracks,
And we paid no respect to their two bloody backs,
For we lathered them there like a pair of wet sacks,
And left them for dead in the morning.
And so to conclude and to finish disputes,
We obligingly asked if they wanted recruits,
For we were the lads who would give them hard clouts,
And bid them look sharp in the morning.
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3. |
Ble'r Wyt Ti'n Myned
04:20
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Ble 'r wyt ti'n myned yr eneth ffein ddu?"
"Myned i odro, O, Syr," Mynte hi.
"O'r ddwy foch goch, a'r ddau lygad du,
Draw wrth droed y mynydd y gwelais hi."
"Gaf fi ddod gyda thi, yr eneth ffein ddu?"
"Gwnewch fel y mynnoch, O, Syr." Mynte hi.
"O'r ddwy foch goch, a'r ddau lygad du,
Draw wrth droed y mynydd y gwelais hi."
"Gaf fi roi cusan iti, yr eneth ffein ddu?"
"Beth ydyw hwnnw, O, Syr?" Mynte hi.
"O'r ddwy foch goch, a'r ddau lygad du,
Draw wrth droed y mynydd y gwelais hi."
"Gaf fi dy briodi, yr eneth ffein ddu?"
"Os bydd Mam yn fodloni, O, Syr!" Mynte hi.
"O'r ddwy foch goch, a'r ddau lygad du,
Draw wrth droed y mynydd y gwelais hi."
"Beth yw dy ffortiwn, yr eneth ffein ddu?"
"Dim ond yr hyn a welwch, O, Syr!" Mynte hi.
"O'r ddwy foch goch, a'r ddau lygad du,
Draw wrth droed y mynydd y gwelais hi."
"Yna ni'th briodaf, yr eneth ffein ddu!"
"Ni ofynnais i chwi, O, Syr." Mynte hi.
"O'r ddwy foch goch, a'r ddau lygad du,
Draw wrth droed y mynydd y gwelais hi."
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4. |
The Sheepstealer
04:46
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I am a brisk lad and my fortune is bad,
In fact I am beggared and poor,
But it's I do intend my life for to mend,
I'll build a house down on the moor, me brave boys,
I'll build a house down on the moor.
My father do keep fat oxen and sheep,
And a neat little nag on the down,
But in the middle of the night when the moon give no light,
There's a number of work to be done, me brave boys,
There's a number of work to be done.
So I'll roam all around on another man's ground,
And I'll take a fat ewe from his pack,
And off the end of me knife I will snuff out it's life,
And I'll carry it home on me back, me brave boys,
And I'll carry it home on me back.
My children will pull the skin from the wool,
And I'll butcher it down to the bone,
Then I'll salt down the meat and make stock for to eat,
For the lord only cares for his own, me brave boys,
For the lord only cares for his own.
When the morning is nigh and the light fills the sky,
We'll feel safe in the warmth of our home,
But when the constable does come I'll stand there with my gun,
And I'll claim all I has is my own, me brave boys,
And I'll claim all I have is my own.
I was a brisk lad and my fortunes were bad,
In fact I was beggared and poor,
But it's I dis intend my life for to mend,
I built a house down on the moor, me brave boys,
I built a house down on the moor.
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5. |
Crow on the Cradle
03:11
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The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn,
Now is the time for a child to be born.
He'll laugh at the moon and he'll cry for the sun,
And if he's a boy he will carry a gun,
Sang the crow on the cradle.
And if it should be that this baby's a girl,
Never you mind if her hair doesn't curl.
With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes,
And a bomber above her wherever she goes,
Sang the crow on the cradle.
The crow on the cradle, the black and the white,
Somebody's baby is born for a fight.
The crow on the cradle, the white and the black,
Somebody's baby is not coming back,
Sang the crow on the cradle.
Your mother and father, they'll scrimp and they'll save;
To build you a coffin and dig you a grave.
Hushabye, little one, never you weep,
For we've got a toy that will put you to sleep,
Sang the crow on the cradle.
Bring me my gun and I'll shoot that bird dead,
That's what your mother and father once said.
Crow on the cradle, what shall we do?
There is the thing that I leave up to you.
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6. |
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When I was young, I used to be,
As fine a one as ever you'd see,
'til the Prince of Wales, he said to me,
Come join the British army.
Too-ra loo-ra loo-ra loo,
They're lookin' for monkeys up in the zoo,
Says one if I had a face like you?
I'd join the British army.
Sarah Comden baked a cake,
It's all for poor old Slattery's sake,
She threw meself into the lake,
Pretendin' I was barmy.
Too-ra loo-ra loo-ra loo,
I've made me mind up what to do,
I'll work me ticket home to you,
And leave the British army.
Sergeant Heaney’s went away,
His wife got in the family way,
And the only words that she could say,
Was blame the British army.
Too-ra loo-ra loo-ra loo,
Me curse upon the Labour blue,
That took me darlin' boy from me,
To join the British army.
Corporal Sheen's a turn o' the 'bout,
Just give him a couple o' bottles o' stout,
He'll bake the enemy with his mouth,
And save the British army.
Too-ra loo-ra loo-ra loo,
I've made me mind up what to do,
I'll work me ticket home to you,
And fuck the British army.
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Craven Cardiff, UK
Cardiff/Stroud based Folk band Craven perform traditional ballads with crafted arrangements. They take influence for their
soundworld from punk, electronic dance and classical chamber music.
Approaching the heavy themes of traditional folk - life, death, war and poverty - with irony and wry wit, and find queer and contemporary ideas in old songs, and bring out new meanings for new contexts.
... more
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