1. |
Lad Of Lovely Hair*
03:02
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LAD OF LOVELY HAIR
Words: Trad / Eileen Pratt. Tune: Trad. Arr: Graham Pratt
Lad of lovely hair, you've left me in despair
Like the berries are your cheeks
That in the orchard spring.
The cuckoo's not so sweet
As the song that your lips sing.
Oh, lad of pleasing smile
My own heart's chosen flame,
If you'd but cease to call
Upon the house of shame.
Oh, lad of twisting curls,
So beautiful to see,
With child I'm heavy now,
Imprisoned inside me.
And the laughter of last year
Has come to weigh me down;
And endless are my tears,
And sorrowful my tune.
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2. |
Patapan*
02:03
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PATAPAN
Bernard de la Monnoye. Arr: Graham Pratt
Take thy fife and take thy drum for the time of joy is come;
Fife with drum and God with man.
Tu-ru-lu-ru-lu, Patapan.
Now we sing our roundelay, Tu-ru-lu-ru-lu-ru-lay.
Thus the men of olden days gave the king of kings all praise;
Fife with drum and God with man.
Tu-ru-lu-ru-lu, Patapan.
Now we sing our roundelay, Tu-ru-lu-ru-lu-ru-lay.
God and man are now become more at one than fife and drum.
Fife with drum and God with man.
Tu-ru-lu-ru-lu, Patapan.
Now we sing our roundelay, Tu-ru-lu-ru-lu-ru-lay.
Take thy fife and take thy drum for the time of joy is come;
Fife with drum and God with man.
Tu-ru-lu-ru-lu, Patapan.
Now we sing our roundelay, Tu-ru-lu-ru-lu-ru-lay.
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3. |
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LAMBS IN THE GREEN HILLS
Trad. Arr: Graham Pratt
Oh the lambs in the green hills, they sport and they play;
But never will strawberries grow in the sea;
But ne'er will strawberries grow in the salt sea,
And never will ships sail the forest.
The bride and bride's party to the church they go;
The bride she rode foremost, she bears the finest show;
But I followed after with my heart full of woe,
To see my love wed to another.
The first place I saw her, it was in the church stand;
Gold ring on her finger, her love by her hand.
Says I, my dearest lassie, I will still be the man.
Although you are wed to another.
The next time I saw her, it was on her way home;
I ran on before her not knowing where to roam.
Says I, my dear lassie, I will stay your side,
Although you have married another.
Stop, says the groomsman, till I speak one word;
Won't you venture your life at the point of my sword?
A-courting oh so slowly, well you've lost this fair maid.
Begone, for you'll never enjoy her.
Make me now my grave, make it long wide & deep.
And scatter it over with flowers so sweet.
And lay me down inside it, for to take my last sleep,
For that's the best way to forget her.
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4. |
The Miraculous Fish*
03:10
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THE MIRACULOUS FISH
Words: Martin Parker (17th century). Tune & Arr: Graham Pratt
There's many marvels in my time I heard of once or more,
But there's a stranger now in prime that's lately come on shore.
It is a fish, a monstrous fish, but now it's dead as we would wish.
Oh rare! Beyond compare! In England ne'er the like!!
A man on horseback as 'tis tried within its mouth may stand;
Twelve yoke of oxen stout and strong can't shift it from the sand.
Such secrets close does Neptune keep, within the bosom of the deep...
His pissle is four yards in length, wide as man's waist is broad;
His sinews are of such a strength, they'd make a riding rod.
Already sixteen tons of oil, from out this fish was seen to boil...
Its cods are like two hogsheads great, which seemeth past belief;
But men of credit can related what I describe in brief.
Then let's with charity confess, God's works are more than we can guess...
When he upon the sands was cast - alive, which was a while,
He yelled so loud that men, aghast, heard him above six mile.
Tis said the female fish likewise was heard to mourn with horrid cries...
The mariners of Chester say a herring-hog 'tis named;
Whate'er it be for certain they that are for knowledge famed
Affirm the like in ages past upon our coast was never cast...
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5. |
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BONNY EARL OF LIVINGSTON
Words: Trad. Tune & Arr: Graham Pratt
Oh, we were sisters seven; now five are dead with child;
There are none but you and I, love - and we'll stay maidens mild.
But scarcely had she spoken, and turned her round about,
Than the Bonny Earl of Livingston was calling Maisry out.
There was a milk-white stallion, that drank from out the Tay,
They sent for Lady Maisry to carry her away.
Well, she had not been at Livingston but twelve-month and a day,
When she's as big with baby as any girl can be.
And she's called upon her foot-page, saying: Run you now with speed,
And bid my mother come here, for of her I'll soon have need.
But before she got to Livingston as fast as she could ride,
They'd put the gags on Maisry and the sharp shears in her side.
Her good Lord stood a-weeping: the tears came flowing down.
Let halls and bowers tumble, now my bonny love is gone.
And out and spake her only sister, never hear to speak so free:
I pray there's no man living, such a death will force on me.
Well, hold your tongue my only daughter, and let your folly be:
Your wedding is tomorrow, though the same death you may see...
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6. |
Last Road*
03:46
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LAST ROAD
Words: Graham & Eileen Pratt. Tune: Trad. Arr: Graham Pratt
There are hares on the field, there are birds in the heather;
And the salmon are leaping o'er the fast-flowing streams
But to open my eyes is to travel forever
From the green land of summer I see in my dreams.
I fear not the wind, nor pay heed to the weather
For the cold rain will hide all my importunate tears;
For reason has flown, now sorrow lies heavy,
And duty forgotten with the passing of years.
In countryside fair or in waterside tavern
My eyes seek the faces of friends I have known;
But gone are they all, my once boon companions,
And now I must travel this last road alone.
I will open my eyes and I'll travel forever
From the green land of summer that I knew as my home;
For gone are they all, my once boon companions,
And now I must travel this last road alone.
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7. |
Doll Thy Ale*
02:23
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DOLL THY ALE
Words: Trad. Tune: Paul Dickinson
Ale makes many a man to stick all at a briar;
Ale makes many a man to lie in the mire;
Ale makes many a man to sleep by the fire,
And doll, doll, doll thy ale - Doll, doll thy ale.
Ale makes many a man to stumble at a stone;
Ale makes many a man to crawl drunken home;
Ale makes many a man to break his bones,
And doll, doll, doll thy ale - Doll, doll thy ale.
Ale makes many a man to cause his family strife;
Ale makes many a man to draw upon his knife;
Ale makes many a man to beat his wife,
And doll, doll, doll thy ale - Doll, doll thy ale.
Ale makes many a man to stumble at the blocks;
Ale makes many a man to bump his head with knocks;
Ale makes many a man to suffer in the stocks,
And doll, doll, doll thy ale - Doll, doll thy ale.
Ale makes many a man to wet his cheeks;
Ale makes many a man to lie in the streets;
Ale makes many a man to wet his sheets,
And doll, doll, doll thy ale - Doll, doll thy ale.
Ale makes many a man to run o'er the fallows;
Ale makes many a man swear by God and All Hallows;
Ale makes many a man to swing from a gallows,
Doll, doll, doll thy ale - Doll, doll thy ale.
And doll, doll, doll thy ale - Doll, doll thy ale.
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8. |
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SHE MOVED THROUGH THE FAIR
Words: Padraic Colum. Tune: Trad. Arr: Graham Pratt
My young love said to me: My brothers won't mind,
And my parents won't slight you for your lack of kind.
Then she stepped away from me, and this she did say:
Oh, it will not be long love until our wedding day.
Then she stepped away from me and she moved through the fair;
And so fondly I watched her go here and go there.
Then she went her way homeward with one star awake,
As the swan in the evening moves over the lake.
All of the people were saying: No two were ever wed,
But that one had a sorrow that never was said.
But I smiled as she passed me, with her goods and her gear,
Oh and that was the last thing that I saw of my dear.
Oh, and I dreamt it last night that my young love came in,
And so softly she entered, her feet made no din.
Then she came close beside me and this she did say:
Oh, it will not be long love until our wedding day.
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9. |
The Black Fox*
03:01
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THE BLACK FOX
Graham Pratt
As we were out a-hunting,
One morning in the spring
Both hounds and huntsmen running well,
Made the hills and valleys ring
But to our great misfortune,
No fox could there be found
And the huntsmen cursed and swore but still,
No fox moved over the ground
Up spoke our master huntsman,
At the head of hounds rode he
“Well we have ridden for a full three hours,
And no fox have we seen
And there is strength still in me,
And I will have my chase
And if only the Devil himself came by,
We’d run him such a race.”
And then there sprang like lightning,
A fox from out his hole
His fur was the colour of a starless night,
His eyes like burning coal
They chased him over the valley,
They chased him over the field
They chased him down to the river bank,
But never would he yield
He’s jumped into the water,
And he’s swum to the other side
He’s laughed so loud that the green woods shook,
Then he’s turned to the huntsmen & cried
“Ride on my gallant huntsmen,
When must I come again?
Oh never shall you want a fox,
To chase along the plain
And when your need is greatest,
Just call upon my name
And I will come and you shall have,
The best of sport and game.”
All the men looked up in wonder,
All the hounds ran back to hide
For the fox had changed to the Devil himself,
Where he stood at the other side
And men and hounds and horses,
Went flying back to town
And hard on their heels came the little Black Fox,
A-laughing as he ran
“Ride on my gallant huntsmen,
When must I come again?
Oh never shall you want a fox,
To chase along the plain.”
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10. |
The Minstrel*
04:38
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THE MINSTREL
Graham Pratt
I sang my song at Hastings battle,
To praise the deeds of Charlemagne;
I sang of Arthur & of Roland,
That men remember their great fame.
I sang to rouse a sinking nation,
That king & men might never yield;
But when the battle cry was over,
We all lay dead on Hastings field.
I sang my song to conquer loved ones,
I sold my voice to him who paid
To sing his lady gentle love songs,
And lend his passion subtler shade.
But when my silver-throated praises,
At last did melt her heart of stone,
He paid me, and they both departed,
And left me there to sing alone.
I sang my song at fair & market,
A song much bawdier than before
Amid the pigs & geese & cattle,
I sought to please the crowd once more.
I sang to win applause & favour,
Songs of the cuckold & the whore
And though I gladly took their money,
I missed the songs I’d sung before.
I sang my song at times of anger,
And found new purpose in my rhyme
At kings & queens I’d point the finger,
And bid them see the nation’s crime.
How bitterly did I condemn them,
All those that left the poor oppressed;
But the time was not yet ripe for changes,
I hung at Tyburn with the rest.
I sang my song in mill & coal pit,
My voice all cracked with dust & fumes
I took my tune from the factory sirens
And I took my rhythm from the looms.
But whether anybody listened,
Or paid attention I can’t say;
I couldn’t stand the smoke & chimneys,
So I packed my bags & moved away.
My voice grows tired, my eyes are weary,
My aging memory nearly gone;
I’ve sung my song for lord & lady,
I’ve sung it too for common man.
But ‘til there’s no more time for singing,
Until we reach the story’s end,
I’ll always find the strength within me,
To rise and sing my song again.
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11. |
Jealous Woman*
03:41
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JEALOUS WOMAN
Words: Trad / Eileen Pratt. Tune & Arr: Graham Pratt
"O woman there hu-lay, Beside the shore hu-lay
Reach out your hand hu-lay, Pull me to land hu-lay
Have you no care My life to spare?"
"No I don't care For your despair.
Tonight I'll sleep Between your sheets,
All soft and white, All through the night.
O tonight I'll rest On your love's breast,
All soft and warm In your man's arms."
"Then say farewell for me To my babies three;
Those I love best, One still at breast."
"I'll say farewell for thee To your brothers three.
Then you'll be found All lying drowned."
"And all my curls so free Torn by the sea.
And my breast milk Lost in the silt.
O woman there Beside the shore
Reach out your hand, Pull me to land."
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12. |
Kerry Is No More**
04:11
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KERRY IS NO MORE
Graham Pratt
The broken walls of castle halls lie scattered on the ground.
The wild geese fly across the sky into the setting sun.
No more we'll raise our voice in praise of heroes gone before.
And who will sing us songs like these, now Kerry is no more?
His songs of love were shadows of the eagle o'er the glen;
His songs of war could ravage more than Caesar's marching men.
His songs of death would chill the breath & drive the waves from shore.
And who will sing us songs like these, now Kerry is no more?
And who will tame the widow's pain with gentle songs of grief?
Who'll reconcile the tearful child to the dying of a leaf?
And whose refrain will help the men to gather in the corn?
And who will sing us songs like these, now Kerry is no more?
The streams cascade through forest glade, he borrowed for his words;
His restless tune could touch the moon upon the wings of birds.
His eyes would gleam as if he'd seen those heroes gone before.
And who will sing us songs like these now, Kerry is no more?
So take his song and sing it on, now darkness hides your home.
Take his song and sing it...'til the tune is all your own.
And as the dying fire spills its embers on the floor,
Just take his song and sing it on, now Kerry is no more.
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13. |
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SILVER WHISTLE, (WHO WILL PLAY THE)
Words: Trad / Eileen Pratt. Tune: Trad. Arr: Graham Pratt
Who will play the silver whistle, when my king comes home again?
Hee-ree-lu, heelyo...
Sailing in the finest vessel; masts of silver and ropes of silk.
When he lands upon the shoreline, he will greet his faithful men.
More than griddle scones I'll make him: finest bread and choicest wine.
Charles with eyes so blue beguiling; welcome home you son of kings.
Let the fiddler play your welcome; let the piper play you home.
Who will play the silver whistle? Maybe I myself shall play...
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14. |
We Live, We Love**
03:48
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WE LIVE, WE LOVE
Graham Pratt
High in the Chilean Andes, Professor Kaufmann climbs;
Inconsolably searching for the secrets of bygone times.
Then in a cave in a mountain, the ancient skull he spies.
What man could this be? What things did he see?
The skull just smiles & sighs…
CHORUS: We live, we love, we laugh, we cry;
We sing, we dance, we fade & we die.
We watch the sun sail through the sky;
We say our hello & we say our goodbye.
Deep in the tomb of the Pharaoh, Professor Crawley creeps;
Taking very great care though not to trouble the Pharaoh’s sleep.
These weird hieroglyphics will soon provide the key;
He’s found it at last! The clue to the past!
He translates feverishly…
On an Andromedan highway, the time machine appears;
Space Commander McKenzie has travelled a million years.
What strange civilisation waits to greet him now?
There on the sand…a little green man
Just smiles & says with a bow…
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15. |
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LITTLE MAN (YOU'VE HAD A BUSY DAY)
Sigler/Hoffman/Wayne - Chappell
Little man you're cryin', I know why you're blue
Someone took your kiddy-car away
Time to go to sleep now
Little man you've had a busy day...
Johnny won your marbles, tell you what we'll do
Daddy get you new ones right away
Time to go to sleep now
Little man you've had a busy day...
You've been playin' soldiers, the battle has been won
The enemy is out of sight
Come along there soldier, put away your gun
The war is over for tonight...
Time to stop your schemin', time your day was through
Can't you hear the bugle softly play?
Time you should be dreamin'
Little man you've had a busy day...
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Graham and Eileen Pratt Sheffield, UK
We've been involved with folk music all our adult lives. Although no longer active as a duo, recordings are still
available.
Early LPs include Clear Air Of The Day, To Friend And Foe, and Hieroglyphics.
Our collaboration with Ron Taylor and Sue Edwards (Burgess) in Regal Slip gave rise to the Bandstand album, available on these pages. Some notes have been updated to reflect new research.
... more
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