Anne Briggs (born 29 September 1944) is an English folk singer. Although she traveled widely in the 1960s and early 1970s, appearing at folk clubs and venues in England and Ireland, she never aspired to commercial success or to achieve widespread public acknowledgment of her music. However, she was a highly influential figure in the English folk music revival, being a source of songs and musical inspiration for others such as A.L. Lloyd, Bert Jansch, Jimmy Page, The Watersons, June Tabor, Sandy Denny, Richard Thompson and Maddy Prior.
Anne Patricia Briggs was born in Toton, Beeston, Nottinghamshire on 29 September 1944. Her mother died of tuberculosis when she was young. Her father, Albert, was severely injured in World War II and she was raised by her Aunt Hilda and Uncle Bill in Toton, who also brought up Hilda's youngest sister, Beryl, and their own daughter Betty. In 1959 she cycled with a friend to Edinburgh. They stayed overnight with Archie Fisher, who was at that time prominent in the revival of folk music in Scotland, and through him she met Bert Jansch, who had just begun to compose his own songs. Jansch and Briggs had an instant rapport and were to remain influential on one another for several years.[citation needed]
Herbert "Bert" Jansch (3 November 1943 – 5 October 2011) was a Scottish folk musician and founding member of the band Pentangle. He was born in Glasgow and came to prominence in London in the 1960s, as an acoustic guitarist, as well as a singer-songwriter. He recorded at least 25 albums and toured extensively from the 1960s to the 21st century.
Jansch was a leading figure in the British folk music revival of the 1960s, touring folk clubs and recording several solo albums, as well as collaborating with other musicians such as John Renbourn and Anne Briggs. In 1968, he joined the band Pentangle, touring and recording with them until their break-up in 1972. He then took a few years' break from music, returning in the late 1970s to work on a series of projects with other musicians. He joined a reformed Pentangle in the early 1980s and remained with them as they evolved through various changes of personnel until 1995. Until his death, Jansch continued to work as a solo artist.
Jansch's work influenced such artists as Al Stewart, Paul Simon, Johnny Marr, Elton John, Bernie Taupin, Bernard Butler, Jimmy Page, Nick Drake, Graham Coxon, Donovan, Neil Young, Fleet Foxes, Devendra Banhart and Neil Halstead.
John Renbourn (born 8 August 1944, Marylebone, London, England) is an English guitarist and songwriter. He is possibly best known for his collaboration with guitarist Bert Jansch as well as his work with the folk group Pentangle, although he maintained a solo career before, during and after that band's existence (1967–1973).
While most commonly labelled a folk musician, Renbourn's musical tastes and interests take in early music, classical music, blues and world music. His most influential album, Sir John Alot (1968), featured his take on songs from the Medieval era.
John Renbourn studied classical guitar at school and it was during this period that he was introduced to Early Music. In the 1950s, along with many others, he was greatly influenced by the musical craze of "Skiffle" and this eventually led him to explore the work of artists such as Lead Belly, Josh White and Big Bill Broonzy.
In the 1960s the new craze in popular music was Rhythm and Blues, also the impact of Davey Graham was being felt. In 1961 Renbourn toured the South West with Mac MacLeod and repeated the tour in 1963.On returning from the South West Renbourn and MacLeod recorded a demo tape together. Renbourn briefly played in an R&B band while studying at the Kingston College of Art in London. Although the British "Folk Revival" was underway, most folk clubs were biased towards traditional, unaccompanied folk songs, and guitar players were not always welcome. However, the Roundhouse in London had a more tolerant attitude and here, John Renbourn joined blues and gospel singer Dorris Henderson, playing backing guitar and recording two albums with her.
I was living by the water
Late July moon's early quarter
Summer mornings, early dawnings
Pay no heed to me, gave no warning
Of their endless way
Seatide flowing in the river
Is all the music I would ever
Have, a long, long day since I went away
By the sea curlews calling
Hear the summer stars falling
Fire burning in the sun
Lighting up their way
On the lonely sands of the western strands
It was there I made my way
On the mountain there my song I'll sing
When the wind plays in the raven's wing
And I saw maudlin horses
Dancing over the plains of the deadland marshes
Down to the sea voices from the empty moor
They call me past the stranger's door
Because I keep no company I make no enemies
The tide is turning, there is no waiting
Day was long, the sun setting
Sand shifting in the wind
These times they have no end
On the lonely sands of the western strand
Sullivan's John, to the road you've gone
Far away from your native home.
You've gone with a tinker's daughter
For along the road to roam.
Sullivan's John, you won't stick it long,
Your belly will soon get slack.
You'll be roaming the road with a mighty load
And a tooten box on your back.
I met Katy Coffey, she'd her neat baby
Tossed behind on her back strapped on.
She'd an old ash plant all in her hand
To drive her donkey along,
Enquiring at every farmer's house
That along the road she passed.
Oh it's where would she get an old pot to mend?
Or where would she swap an ass?
I heard of a fair in the County Clare
At a place call Spancil Hill
Where my brother James got a rap of the hames [harness],
Poor Paddy they tried to kill.
They loaded him up on an ass and cart
While Pat and Mary looked on.
Oh, bad luck to the day that I went away
My young love said to me, “My mother won't mind,
And my father won't slight you for your lack of kind.”
Then she laid her hand on me and this she did say,
“Oh, it will not be long, love, till our wedding-day.”
She laid her hand on me and she moved through the fair,
And fondly I watched her move here and move there.
Then she laid her hand on me and this she did say,
“Oh, it will not be long, love, till our wedding-day.”
Last night she came to me, my dead love came in,
And so softly she came, her feet made no din.
Then she laid her hand on me and this she did say,
Lady Margaret, Lady Margaret, was sewing at her seam
And she's all dressed in black.
And the thought come in her head to run in the wood
to pull flowers to flower her hat, me boys,
to pull flowers to flower her hat.
So she hoisted up her petticoats a bit above the knee
And so nimbly she'd run o'er the ground.
And when she come in the merry greenwood,
Well, she pulled them branches down, me boys,
Well, she pulled them branches down.
Suddenly she spied a fine young man,
He's standing by a tree.
He says, “How dare you pull them branches down
Without the leave of me, my dear,
Without the leave of me?”
Well, she says, “This little wood, oh, it is me very own,
Me father gave it to me.
I can pull these branches down
Without the leave of thee, young man,
Oh, without the leave of thee.”
And he took her by the milk-white hand
And by the grass-green sleeve,
He pulled her down at the foot of a bush,
And he never once asked her leave, me boys,
No, he never once asked her leave.
And when it was done she twist about
To ask her true-love's name.
But she nothing heard and she nothing saw
And all the woods grew dim, grew dim,
And all the woods grew dim.
There's four and twenty ladies all in the land
and they're all playing at chess.
Except it was the Lady Margaret
And she's green as any glass, me boys,
Oh, she's green as any glass.
And there's four and twenty ladies all in the land
Grow as red as any rose.
Except it was the Lady Margaret,
She's pale and wan, me boys,
Oh, pale and wan she goes.
Up then spoke the little servant girl,
She lift her hand and smiled,
Says, “I think my lady has loved too long
And now she goes with child, me dears,
Oh, and now she goes with child.”
Up then spoke the second serving girl
“Oh, ever and alas,” said she,
“But I think I know a herb in the merry greenwood,
It'll twine thy baby from thee, madam,
It'll twine thy baby from thee.”
So Lady Margaret she got her silver comb,
Made haste to comb her hair,
And then she's away to the merry greenwood
As fast as she can tear, me boys,
Oh, as fast as she can tear.
And she hadn't pulled in the merry greenwood
A herb but barely one
When by her stood the young Tambling,
He says, “Margaret, leave it alone,
Oh Margaret, leave it alone.”
“Why d'you pull that bitter little herb,
The herb that grows so grey,
For to destroy that fine young babe
That we got in our play, my dear,
That we got in our play?”
“Well, come tell me now, young Tambling,” she says,
“If an earthly man you be.”
“I'll tell you no lies,” says young Tambling,
“I was christened as good as thee, me dear,
I was christened as good as thee.”
“But as I rode a-hunting on a bitter, bitter night,
It was from my horse I fell,
And the Queen of Elfland she caught me
In yonder green hill to dwell, to dwell,
Oh, in yonder green hill to dwell.”
“But tonight is Halloween, lady,
The Elven Court will ride.
And if you would your true love win,
By the mill bridge you must hide, me dear,
By the mill bridge you must hide.”
“And first will run the black horse and then will run the brown,
And then race by the white.
You hold him fast and you fear him not,
For he's the father of your child, my love,
Oh, he's the father of your child.”
“They'll turn me all in your arms, lady,
Into many's the beasts so wild.
But you'll hold on fast and you fear no ill,
For it's the father of your child, my love,
It's the father of your child.”
So Lady Margaret she got her silver comb,
She made haste to comb her hair.
Then she's away to the old mill-bridge
As fast as she could tear, me boys,
Oh, as fast as she could tear.
And about the dead hour of the night
She heard the bridles ring.
And oh, me boys, it chilled her heart
More than any earthly thing it did,
More than any earthly thing.
And first run the black horse and then run the brown
And then race by the white.
Well, she hold it fast and feared it not,
For it's the father of her child,
Oh, it's the father of her child.
The thunder rolled across the sky,
The stars blazed bright as day.
The Queen of Elven gave a thrilling cry,
“Young Tambling's away, brave boys,
Young Tambling's away.”
And the very first thing they turned him into
Was a lion that runs so wild.
But she held him fast, she feared him not,
For he's the father of her child, me boys,
Oh, he's father of her child.
And the very next thing they turned him into,
It was a loathsome snake.
He says, “Hold me fast and fear me not,
For I'm one of God's own make, my love,
Oh, I'm one one of God's own make.”
And again they changed him all in her arms
To a red hot bar of iron.
But she held it fast, she feared it not,
And it did to her no harm, no harm,
And it did to her no harm.
And the very last thing they changed him into
Was like any naked man.
She flung her mantle over him,
She cried, “Me love I've won, I've won,”
Oh, she cried, “Me love I've won.”
And the Queen of Elven she called from a bush,
She's red as any blood.
“I should have tore out your eyes, Tambling,
And put in two eyes of wood, of wood,
One evening as I rambled amongst the springing thyme,
I overheard a young woman conversing with Reynardine.
And her hair was black and her eyes were blue, her mouth as red as wine,
And he smiled as he looked upon her, did this sly bold Reynardine.
And she says, “Young man, be civil, my company forsake,
For to my good opinion I fear you are a rake.”
And he said, “My dear, well I am no rake brought up in Venus' train.
But I'm searching for concealment all from the judge's men.”
And her cherry cheeks and her ruby lips they lost their former dye,
And she's fell into his arms there all on the mountain high.
And they hadn't kissed but once or twice till she came to again,
And it's modestly she asked him, “Pray tell to me your name.”
“Well, if by chance you ask for me, perhaps you'll not me find,
I'll be in my green castle, enquire for Reynardine.”
And it's day and night she followed him his, teeth so bright did shine.
Have you seen ought of my bonny lad?
Are you sure he's well-o?
He's gone o'er long with a stick in his hand,
He's gone to row the keel-o.
Yes I have seen your bonny lad,
'Twas on the sea I spied him.
His grave is green but not wi' grass
And you'll never lie beside him.
Have you seen ought of my bonny lad?
And are you sure he's well-o?
He's gone o'er long with a stick in his hand,
The cuckoo's a pretty bird, she sings as she flies.
She brings us good tidings, tells us no lies.
She sucks the little birds' eggs to keep her voice clear,
And when she sings “cuckoo” the summer draws near.
As I walked down by the side of a bush
I heard two birds whistling, the blackbird and the thrush.
I asked them the reason so merry they be,
And the answer they gave me, we are single and we are free.
A-walking, a-talking, a-walking was I,
To meet my true lover, he'll come by and by,
To meet him in the meadows is all my delight,
A-walking and talking from morning till night.
Meeting is pleasure but parting is a grief
And an inconstant lover is worse than a thief.
A thief can but rob me and take all I have,
But an inconstant lover sends me to my grave.
And the grave, it will rot me and bring me to dust,
An inconstant lover no maiden can trust,
They'll court you and kiss you and vow they'll be true
And the very next moment they'll bid you adieu.
The cuckoo's a pretty bird, she sings as she flies,
She brings us glad tidings, tells us no lies,
And when her time is come, her voice we don't hear,
The king had been a prisoner
And a prisoner long in Spain,
And Willie of the Winsbury
Has lain long with his daughter at hame.
As I looked over the castle wall
To see what I could see,
There I saw my father's ship
|: Come a-sailing home to me. :|
“What ails ye, what ails ye, my daughter Janet,
Why you look so pale and wan?
Oh have you had any sore sickness
Or yet been sleeping with a man?”
“What's the matter, my daughter Jane,
That you look so pale and wan,
Have you had some sore sickness
In |: lying with some young man?” :|
“I have not had any sore sickness
Nor yet been sleeping wi' a man.
It is for you, my father dear,
For biding so long in Spain.”
“Oh, I've had no sore sickness
In lying with no young man,
But I have a grieve to my very, very heart
|: That you've been so long at sea.” :|
“Cast off, cast off your berry-brown gown,
You stand naked upon the stane,
That I may ken ye by your shape
Whether you be a maiden or none.”
And she's cast off her berry-brown gown,
She stood naked upon the stone.
Her apron was low and her haunches were round,
Her face was pale and wan.
Then she's took off her gown of green,
She's hanged it against the wall.
Her apron strings they would not untie
|: She was three quarters gone. :|
“Oh, was it with a lord or a duke or a knight
Or a man of birth and fame?
Or was it with one of me serving men
That's lately come out of Spain?”
“It is to a noble gentleman
Or to one of low degree?
Or is it to some jolly, jolly tar
|: That sails in along of me?” :|
“No, it wasn't with a lord, nor a duke, nor a knight,
Or a man of birth and fame.
But it was with Willie of Winsbury,
I could bide no longer alone.”
“ 't is to no noble gentleman
Nor to one of low degree;
But it is to that jolly, jolly tar
That sails in along of thee,
Aye, he sails along of thee.”
And the king he has called on his merry men all,
By thirty and by three,
Says, “Fetch me this Willie of Winsbury,
For hanged he shall be.”
So he's called up his merry, merry men,
By one, by two, by three,
And Tom the Barber that used to come first,
|: The last come in was he. :|
But when he came the king before,
He was clad all in the red silk.
His hair was like the strands of gold,
His skin was as white as the milk.
In came Tom the Barber bold,
He was dressed all in silk.
His eyes did shine like morning sun,
His skin it was like the milk,
Oh, his skin was like the milk.
“And it is no wonder,” said the king,
“That my daughter's love you did win.
If I was a woman, as I am a man,
My bedfellow you would have been.”
“And will you marry my daughter Janet
By the truth of your right hand?
Oh, will you marry my daughter Janet?
I'll make you the lord of my land.”
“Will you marry my daughter Jane?
Will you take her by the hand?
Will you prove a father unto that child,
The |: heir to all my land?” :|
“Yes, I will marry your daughter Janet
By the truth of my right hand.
Yes I will marry your daughter Janet,
But I'll not be the lord of your land.”
“Yes, I'll marry your daughter Jane,
I'll take her by the hand.
I'll prove a father unto that child,
But I value not your land,
No, I value not your land.
And he's mounted her on a milk-white steed
And himself on a dapple grey.
He has made her the lady of as much land
In Thorneymoor Woods in Nottinghamshire,
Thorneymoor Woods in Nottinghamshire,
Three game-keepers' houses stood three-square,
About a mile from each other they were
Orders they were to look out for the deer.
Fol de rol, tora lie day
Now me and me dogs went out one night
The moon and the stars were shining bright
O'er hedges and ditches, fields and stiles
With my three dogs trotting close by me heels,
To catch a fat buck down in Thorneymoor fields.
Fol de rol, tora lie day
That very first night we had bad luck,
One of me very best dogs got shot
He come to me all bloody and lame
Right sorry I was for to see the same
And not being able to follow the game.
Fol de rol, tora lie day
I searched his wounds and found them slight
'Twas done by a game-keeper out of spite
Well I'll take a stick right tight in me hand
I'll search the woods till I find that man
I'll thrash his old hide right well if I can
Fol de rol, tora lie day
Now I come home and I went to bed
Limping Jack went out in me stead
O'er hedges and ditches, fields and stiles
He found a buck lying on the ground
My little dog has gave him the death-wound.
Fol de rol, tora lie day
And Limping Jack he cut the buck's throat
Tied his legs with good stout rope
And I had a laugh to see Limping Jack
Up in a lane with that buck on his back
Carried it just like a pedlar's pack
Fol de rol, tora lie day
Now we got us a butcher to skin the game
Likewise another to sell the same
And the very first joint as we offered for sale
Was to an old girl she sold bad ale
She had us young lads up in Nottingham gaol
Fol de rol, tora lie day
In Nottingham assizes are you and I
Us three young lads we go to be tried
But the magistrate laughed her all to scorn
He says the old bugger should be forsworn
Into little pieces torn
Fol de rol, tora lie day
In Nottingham assizes are gone and past
Us three young lads go free at last
The bucks and the does will never roam free
A poacher's life is the life for me
A poacher I will always be
Oh the snow it melts the soonest when the winds begin to sing
And the corn it ripens fastest when the frosts are setting in
And when a young man tells me that my face he'll soon forget
Before we part, I'd better croon, he'd be fain to follow it yet
Oh the snow it melts the soonest when the winds begin to sing
And the swallow skims without a thought as long as it is Spring
But when Spring blows and Winter goes my lad and you'd be fain
With all your pride for to follow me, were it 'cross the stormy main
Oh the snow it melts the soonest when the winds begin to sing
And the bee that flew when Summer shone in Winter he won't sing
And all the flowers in all the land so brightly there they be
And the snow it melts the soonest when my true love's there for me
So never say me farewell here, no farewell I'll receive
You can meet me at the stile, you kiss and take your leave
And I'll wait it till the woodcock crows or the martin takes its leave
One fine winter's morning me horn I did blow
To the green hills of Kielder for hours did go
We gathered our dogs and we circled around
For who loves the sport more than the boys of the town.
And when we arrived they were all standing there
We set off for the fields in search of a hare
We didn't get far till someone gave a cheer
Over high hills and valleys the sweet puss did steer
As we flew o'er the hills, 'twas a beautiful sight
There was dogs black and yeller, there was dogs black and white
She took the black bank to try them once more
Oh it was her last lank for the hills of Greenmore.
In a field of wheat stubble this sweet puss did lie
And Rory and Charmer they did pass her by
And there where we stood at the foot of the brae
Oh, we heard the last words that this sweet puss did say:
“Oh, no more o'er the green hills of Kielder I'll roam
No skip through the fields in sport and in fun
Nor hear the loud horn your toner does play
I'll go back to me den by the clear light of day.”
You may blame MacMahon for killing the hare
He's been at his ol' capers this many's a year
Well, Saturdays and Sundays he'll never give o'er
Drawing water from the well
And spilling over on the grass.
Walking home my heart is filled with pain.
You go your way, my love,
You go your way, my love,
You go your way, my love.
Drawing water from the well
Spilling over on the grass.
Walking homeward my mind is filled with pain,
Woe is me.
Go your own way, my love,
Go your way, my love.
And as I wander through the trees
I'm picking up the windy leaves,
I wonder where you may be sleeping now.
You go your way, my love,
You go your way, my love,
You go your way, my love.
And as I wander through the trees
Picking up the windy leaves,
Looking where you may be sleeping now,
I wanna die.
Go your own way, my love,
Go your way, my love.
And may the west wind speed your travels
And the sun be on your hair.
And make believe I'm with you
All over there, my love,
You go your way, my love,
You go your way, my love.
Friends and strangers bring stories
When asked where you might be.
Magic stories they have brought to me.
You go your way, my love,
You go your way, my love,
You go your way, my love.
And as I sit mending clothes
That you will never ever wear,
Looking daily for you I do prepare.
You go your way, my love,
You go your way, my love,
You go your way, my love.
As I sit mending your clothes
That you will never ever wear,
Looking daily for you I do prepare
But woe is me.
Go your own way, my love,
Go your way, my love.
Is there walkin some far land
And have you gone to lend your hand,
And do you lie broken and dying now
I wanna die.
Go your own way, my love,
Go your way, my love.
One morning fair to take the air
Down by Blackwater side.
'Twas in gazing all, all around me
'Twas the Irish lad I spied.
All through the first part of the night
Well, we lay in sport and play,
Then this young man he arose and he gathered his clothes,
He said, “Fare thee well today.”
Well, that's not the promise that you gave to me
When first you lay on my bed,
You could make me believe with your lying tongue
That the sun rose in the west.
Then go home, go home, to your father's garden,
You go home and weep your fill.
And you think of your own misfortune
That you brought with your wanton will.
For there's not a girl in this whole wide world
As easily led as I,
Sure it's fishes they'll fly and the seas run dry,
Three maidens a-milking did go :|
And the wind it blow high and the wind it did blow low
It tossed their petticoats to and fro
|: They met with a young man they know :|
And they've asked it of him if he had any skill
To catch them a small bird or two
|: Oh yes I've a very good skill :|
And it's come away with me to the yonder flowering tree
And I'll catch you a small bird or two
So |: it's off to the greenwoods went they :|
And he's tapped at the bush and the bird it did fly in
Just a little above her white knee
And her sparkling eyes they did turn round
Just as if she was in a swound
And she cried “Oh, I've a bird and a very pretty bird
He's a-pecking away at his own ground”
|: Here's a health to the bird in the bush :|
And we'll drink up the sun, and we'll drink down the moon