1. |
||||
2. |
High Mettled Racer
02:22
|
|||
|
See the course throng with gazers, the sports are begun.
Amid the confusion the betting is done.
Ten thousand strange rumours resound far and near,
As Lords, hawkers and jockeys assail that idea.
While with neck like a rainbow, erecting his crest,
Pampered and prancing, his head on his breast,
Scarce sniffing the air, he's so proud and elate,
The high mettled racer first starts for the plate.
Now Reynard's put up and o'er hedge and bush rushed,
Hounds, horses and huntsmen all hard at his brush.
Through marsh, fen and briar, led by their snide prey,
By scent and by view chase their long tedious way.
While alike bred for sports of the field and the course,
So sure to come through, such a staunch and fleet horse,
When fairly run down the fox yields up his breath.
The high mettled racer is in at the death.
Grown aged, used up, and turned out of the stud,
Lame, spavined and wind gone, yet still with some blood,
While knowing postilions his pedigree trace,
With "His dam won that sweep." and "His sire won that race."
And what matches he won too, the ostlers count o'er,
Loitering their time at some alehouse door.
Whole the harness sores gall and the spurs his side goad,
The high mettled racer is a hack on the road.
'Til at last having laboured, dragged early and late,
Bowed down by degrees, he bends unto his fate.
Blind, old, weak, and feeble he trots round a mill
Or draws sand, 'til the sand in his hourglass stands still.
Now at last cold and lifeless, exposed to the view,
In the very same cart that he yesterday drew,
While a pitying crowd his sad relic surrounds,
The high mettled racer is sold for the hounds.
|
||||
3. |
Dawn Chorus
02:22
|
|||
4. |
A-begging I will go
02:26
|
|||
|
Of all the trades in England the begging is the best,
For when a beggar's tired he can sit him down and rest.
CH. And a-begging I will go, will go,
And a-begging I will go.
I've a poke for my mail and another for my rye.
I've a little bottle by my side to drink when I get dry.
I've a poke for my salt and another for my malt.
I've a pair of little crutches, you should see how I can halt.
I've been a-begging seven long years with my old wooden leg.
Lame was I, since I was born, and so I'm forced to beg.
I spent last night in a hollow tree and there I pay no rent.
Providence provides for me and I am well content.
Of all the trades in England the begging is the best,
For when a beggar's tired he can sit him down and rest.
|
||||
5. |
Treadmill song
06:07
|
|||
|
Step in young man, I know your face,
It's nothing in your favour.
A little time I'll give to you,
Six months unto hard labour.
CH. With me hup for the day, hup for the day,
Hup for the day for the digio.
At six o'clock the screw comes in,
A bunch of keys all in his hand.
"Step up my lads, step up in time,
And tread the wheel 'til breakfast time."
At eight o'clock the skivvy comes in
And it's sometimes thick and it's sometimes thin.
And never a word dare we all say
Or it's bread and water all next day.
And at half past eight the bell do ring
And it's off to the chapel, boys, we must swing.
Down on our bended knees we fall.
The lord have mercy on us all.
Then at nine o'clock the jangles ring
And it's all on the trap, boys, we must spring.
"Step up my lads, step up in time,
The wheel to tread and the corn to grind."
Now Saturday's come I'm sorry to say
For Sunday is starvation day.
Our hobnail boots and our tin mugs too,
They are not shined and they will not do.
When six long months are gone and passed,
Then I'll return to my bonny, bonny lass.
I'll leave the turnkeys all behind,
The wheel to tread and the corn to grind.
|
||||
6. |
April fool
02:44
|
|||
7. |
||||
8. |
Arthur McBride
04:33
|
|||
|
Well I once knew a fellow called Arthur McBride
And his pleasure was walking down by the seaside.
When walking for pleasure what harm could betide
When the weather was pleasant and charming.
So gaily and gallant we went on our tramp
'Til we met Sergeant. Harper and Corporal Cramp
And the bonny wee drummer who rouses the camp
On his rowdy-dow-doo in the morning.
"Good morning, fine fellows." the Sergeant he cried,
"And the same to you Sergeant." was all we replied.
Being nothing more spoken we made to pass by
And continue our walk in the morning.
"Well now, my young fellows, why don't you enlist,
And a guinea in gold I will slap in your fist,
And a crown in the bargain to kick off the dust
And drink the Queen's health in the morning ?"
"Oh no, Mr. Sergeant, we are not for sale,
We'll have none of your bargain, your price won't avail.
We're not tired of our country, we've no wish to sail,
Though your offer is pleasant and charming.
For if we were such fools as to take your advance,
Then it's right bloody slender would be our poor chance,
For the Queen would not scruple to send us to France
And get us all shot in the morning."
"Well now, you young blackguards, if you say one more word
I swear by the herring I'll draw out my sword
And run you both through, as my strength can afford.
So now you young blackguards take warning."
Well we beat that young drummer as flat as a shoe,
And we made a football of his rowdy-dow-doo,
And as for the others, we knocked down the two,
For we were the boys of the morning.
And we took the old weapons that hung at their side
And we flung them as far as we could in the tide.
"May the devil go with you," says Arthur McBride,
"For disturbing our walk in the morning."
|
||||
9. |
Dunbarton's lament
02:28
|
|||
10. |
Judge Jeffreys
02:16
|
|||
|
Now my name is Judge George Jeffreys and I've been misunderstood.
Come listen to my story, for I rather wish you would,
And soon you'll see that all I did was for the common good,
As I sent them to their deaths by the score,
As I sent them to their deaths by the score.
Now a judge's purpose, you'll agree, is to uphold the law,
And to dispense his judgements on the rich and on the poor.
Did someone mention justice then ? Now what would that be for ?
As...
Now you can't have rebel armies marching off to fight the King,
It disrupts all the countryside. It's really not the thing,
So we'll hang them high and chop them up and make the blighters sting,
As...
Some say that I'm perverted and take delight in pain,
But if those folks had my gallstones then I'm sure they'd think again,
The torments that I suffer'd send a lesser man insane,
As...
And then there are those lucky ones I'll just transport for life,
Conditions on the ships aren't good and scurvy it is rife,
And all in all the lucky ones will be those that survive,
As...
Well now you've heard my story and I'm sure you'll all agree,
That it really isn't fair to pin all the blame on me,
I've just tried to make this country safe for the likes of you and me,
As...
|
||||
11. |
Crossbutts
02:33
|
|||
12. |
||||
If you like Robin Madge, you may also like:
Big, emotive pop songs with expansive instrumentation and heartrending vocals.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Apr 30, 2024
go to album
The Toronto-based sextet make moody, cinematic sounding music that blends psych-folk and post-rock.
go to album
Mind, Man, Medicine
by The Secret Sisters
The Alabama duo's fifth album exults in dusty Americana, showcasing rich vocal harmonies alongside blissful folk instrumentation.
go to album
More contemplative folk from the Minnesota singer-songwriter, sustained by raw full-band arrangements and philosophical lyrics.
go to album
Irish singer-songwriter Oisin Leech's acoustic folk music is characterized by its muted beauty and intimate, solitary quality.
go to album
Various Artists - Gaza Calling
by Nuovo Canzoniere Partigiano
featured on Bandcamp Radio Mar 15, 2024
go to album
