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The Lament of The Black Sheep

by Ange Hardy

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1.
Oh for the winds they blow, they blow! Oh for the winds they blow! The bow to the sailor it does call, oh for the winds they blow! The gentleman in blue and white he stands so proud and tall. He tilts his brow and lifts his hat, all for the pretty girls. Each one of them so fine and trim all lined up in a row. The bow to the sailor it does call, oh for the winds they blow. The gentleman he takes his gun, his armour, and his blade, calls his name to the commodore and takes to the English waves. The commodore with lace and crown on shoulders dressed in gold “away to your captain!” he does call, oh for the winds they blow. The gentleman is good and true his heart all made of gold, he takes to the sea to fight and free all of the pretty girls. Each one of them so fine and trim all lined up in a row. The bow to the sailor it does call, oh for the winds they blow! The gentleman in blue and white he stands so proud and tall. He tilts his brow and lifts his hat all for the pretty girls. Each one of them so fine and trim all lined up in a row. The bow to the sailor it does call, oh for the winds they blow!
2.
Come now little black sheep, what have you done? Gave away your fleeces three and now you have none. You gave one to the ploughing man to give to his growing son, you gave one to the ploughing man and now you have none. The ploughing man, the ploughing man, the ploughing man has one. You gave one to the ploughing man and now you have none. You gave one to the farmers wife to make her blankets from, you gave one to the farmers wife and now you have none. The farmer’s wife, the farmer’s wife, the farmer’s wife has one. You gave one to the farmer’s wife and now you have none. You gave one to the little boy whose life it had just begun, you gave one to the little boy and now you have none. The little boy, the little boy, the little boy has one. You gave one to the little boy and now you have none. The coldness it is setting in, your skin it is raw and numb. The coldness it is setting in, and you are barely warm. Setting in, it’s setting in, the coldness it has come. The coldness it is setting in and you are barely warm.
3.
What becomes of you my love? For I am to leave these lands. What becomes of the child I bore bare and bloody to your clan? I cannot now my bonny boy to my bosom hold his brow. I cannot now my dearest love be the wife of a gambling man. And what becomes of my fathers home by the hands of his fathers made? What becomes of the fertile soil all turned by his ploughing blade? I cannot now my back to turn to face his land’s demise. I cannot now my dearest love keep vows as a gambler’s wife. What becomes of my mothers ring with the ruby red as blood? What becomes of her wedding dress as white as the lily bud? I cannot now, my daughters own, pass down traditions made. I cannot now my dearest love be the wife to a gambler’s trade. What becomes of my brother John for he is his father’s hand? What becomes of the farmer’s ways, the traditions of this land? I cannot now, my roots are deep, be taken from this life. I cannot now my dearest love be both proud and a gambler’s wife. And what becomes of our marital bed where together we would lay? What becomes of my father’s herds? Where are they now to graze? I cannot now my bonny boy is taken to his plot... I cannot now my dearest love be the wife to a gambler’s lot.
4.
I’ll call you out from the Tickled Trout down by the River Ribble to drink our fill in The Old Black Bull and I’ll take with me my fiddle. I’ll ask you child for I long to beguile the grief that calls for pity. You’ve come thus far by lorry, by car, will you come now to Dublin city? Come daring lassie, oh my lovely, young daring lassie come with me. On English land we will leave your name and call you my daughter’s own. Take heart young girl, stand tall and brave, for you’ll not turn back home. We’ll take the ferry from the docks in Wales sail on the Irish sea. We’ll make merry and we’ll tell our tales and dance in the ocean breeze. We’ll take a rickshaw to Stephen’s Green, walk by young Molly Malone. We’ll take the heather all tied with string from the hand of the travelling girl. I’ll leave you there in Grafton fair so soon to be all forlorn for the thieving mare she will leave you bare, bare as the day you were born! Your fortune’s told that brave and bold you’ll stand on your two bare feet, down by the road in the sodden cold where the tar and the hedgerows meet. As it all began a fine young man will sweep you from your toes, and pray dear child that you’ll take his hand and follow him where he goes.
5.
Mabel, mother of mine, if I were able I’d take your wine, turn it into water and you’d be fine. Dearest Mabel, mother of mine. They will ride the waves away, and they will not come home. They will ride the waves away, and they will not come home. Mabel, mother of mine. Dearest Mabel, oh mother of mine. Mabel, mother of mine, if I were able I’d take all nine of your dear children and they’d be fine. Dearest Mabel, mother of mine. Mabel, mother of mine, if I were able I’d wait here by “Farewell the Sailor” and he’d be fine. Dearest Mabel, mother of mine. Mabel, oh mother of mine, if I were able I’d mount on high “Return the Sailor” and he’d be fine. Dearest Mabel, mother of mine. But I’m not able, mother of mine. Dearest Mabel... oh mother of mine.
6.
One whitened winter’s morning in the early light of day a young man he went walking for to walk he must away. He took with him no purse no pound, he took with him no pay. He took with him no gallant horse for to walk he must away. Oh for you sir I will pray! Oh for you sir I will pray! Oh for you sir I will pray you’ll come back Christmas Day! A walking did this young man go to find his fortune told, he’d left behind his wife so fine to fetch her weight in gold. She’d sent him out with nowt in hand, she’d sent him brave and bold, she’d sent him out a walking for to fetch her weight in gold. He tried his hand at poaching for to catch an easy prey, he’d earn enough from spilling blood to bring her home his pay. With days so short and nights so cold he’d not be to complain, he quickly found his hands were bound and walk he did away. He wandered down to Watchet town and took with him his coat, a knife in hand he’d find a man to steal from him his boat. But his hand it shook and trembled and he could not keep hold, he dropped the blade beneath the waves and walking he did go. So one whitened winter’s morning in the early light of day, a young man he went walking for to home he must away. He took with him no purse no pound, he took with him no pay, he took with him no gallant horse for home he did make way. “A walking darling I did go to find my fortune told, I left behind my wife so fine but not found any gold. Though I come home with nowt in hand I come home brave and bold, for I am not the kind of man to fetch your weight in gold”. She took him by the shoulder, she turned her face away, she held his hand unto her breast and this to him did say “Oh I sent you out and lost my man, for I had lost my way! But prayer has bought you back to me in time for Christmas Day!”
7.
Will you tell me sir why you laid me down, why you took my heart and took my crown? Tell your reasons, tell me why? Lay them down right here by the river where I lie. For I’m spread tall in my mothers nightgown at the root of the tree on my father’s land. Oh tell your reasons, tell me why? Lay them down right here by the river where I lie. For the Irish Sea it waits for me, and I... I’ll not come by. Oh the Irish Sea still waits for me, and I... I’ll not come by. So you called me home to Galway town. My bags were packed, life lain down. Tell your reasons, tell me why? Lay them down right here by the river where I lie. So I took my heart, I took my crown, to the waters edge on my father’s land. Oh tell your reasons, tell me why? Lay them down right here by the river where I lie. For the Irish Sea it waits for me, and I... I’ll not come by. Oh the Irish Sea still waits for me, and I... I’ll not come by. For you took my head and you held me down. I lost my breath and there did drown. Oh tell your reasons, tell me why? Lay them down right here by the river where I lie.
8.
I am a young mother, a mother of two, for I courted a farm hand my father knew. He was tall and trim, as fit as an ox, but he wasn’t the sharpest of tools in the box. Woolgathering, woolgathering all of the day, woolgathering, an absent mind in a vacant daze. Our first born, a maiden so pure and so fair, was a beauty beyond any other compare. She was brave, creative, her heart it was true. She took her looks from her father... her mind from him too. I sent my dear daughter to find her old man with a pie for his lunch and a flask in her hand. She’d walk through the fields with a grunt and a moan, with the flask in her bag and her head in her phone. Now on idle pastures her father before her went spreading the fields with his finest manure. The sweetest of robins as red as a rose took his mind from his job and his eyes off the rows. The two did collide with the such beauty and grace that the muck became one with the lines on her face. She fell to the floor all bewildered did sit from her toes to her fingers all covered in dirt.
9.
I have walked for many a mile in the cold and in the rain. And I will walk for many a more, I’ll not come back again. I found home in many a door and roamed with many men. I have walked for many a mile, I’ll not come back again. I have walked for many a mile all over the fields of gold. And I will walk for many a more over hills and lanes of old. I’ve found home in many a door all in dear Galway. I have walked for many a mile, I’ll not come back again. I have walked for many a mile and oh my soles are torn. I will walk for many a more all in search of days I mourn. I lay down my troubled heart all on the grass so green. I have walked for many a mile and learnt from what I’ve seen.
10.
The Cull 02:48
As I stood by in Watchet town a gent came by with a black and white crown, his coat all black donned with fur down, all for the cull went walking. He thrust me a board, held out his hand. I’ve a lusty eye for a passionate man so I took up my board, followed him down, all for the cull went walking. Now the farmer cried for his herd and sang “to the woods I’ll go with gun in hand for if one should fall they’ll all fall down!”. All for the cull went walking. “You’ll not deter, I’ll not stand down! I’ve a livelihood in this here land and if some don’t go they’ll all go down!”. All for the cull went walking. As I stood by my fine young man that farmer’s asked to take my hand “we’ll all to the neighbours all go down” so we all for the cull went walking. Now his neighbour cried on knees and hands as a line of trucks went from his land, his herd inside “they’ll put them down!” so we all for the cull went walking.
11.
Come Marsh Daisy come walk with me now, come walk behind me as I pull the plough. Oh such a fine bird, a beauty so rare, tilling the soil Marsh Daisy. Come Marsh Daisy come stay with me now, show us your rosy stand tall and stand proud. Oh for you’re free to stay here on my land, tilling the soil Marsh Daisy. Come walk with me now, come walk with me now, come walk with me now, tilling the soil Marsh Daisy. Come Marsh Daisy come lay for me now, lay in the hay sheds and barns for the cows. Oh in the morning you’ll walk in the fields, tilling the soil Marsh Daisy. Come Marsh Daisy come rest with me now, curl up beside me and lay down your brow. Oh for the evening will water your work, tilling the soil Marsh Daisy. Come Marsh Daisy come dine with me now, come share my table all in my fine house. Oh there we shall reap the rewards of your toil, tilling the soil Marsh Daisy. For you toil o’er the soil, o’er the soil, for you toil o’er the soil Marsh Daisy, come walk with me Marsh Daisy, come walk with me Marsh Daisy.
12.
There was a young librarian, he had hair of red. His skin was the brightest white that I had seen of yet. There was a fair young lady, she had a heart of gold. She came through the open door to read of stories old. It was dark and it was cold, it was a winter’s evening. It was a given, it had been foretold, that she would not be leaving. There in the darkest corner, all dressed in shades of black, a young mother and her daughter silently were sat. The eye of the fair young lady shot fast to meet the pair but only a book remained for there was no one there. There sat the fair young lady on a splintered dusty chair she opened the book and read with caution and with care. The air thick with eerie silence clogged in the young girl’s throat for there were the two dark figures holding up a note. “Watch out for the young librarian. He has hair of red. He’ll take from you the life you lead with spells of fear and dread. He’ll lock you inside the pages, bind you with leather thread, rip from you that heart of gold to take with him to bed”.
13.
My mother once told me to be fair of heart, to give of me plenty and hold none apart, to be all of me open and all of me free, for the young man I’m courting, oh wanting is he. My old man he cares not for he will not know, my mother she raised me and told me to go. I would never had taken me a young one to my home, for to meet with my dear mother dear I would never be so bold. Taken back I were my love for I had not foreseen, for to rid herself of me my mother she would be so keen. My mother she told told me I was never to be proud but to serve all those who love me, to be humble and be sound. For a mothers love is sweet and dear, it takes you from the womb and gently it delivers you to the hands of a fine young groom.
14.
The Lullaby 01:56
For the sake of your dear father, for the sake of your dear mum, go to sleep now little one. The sunrise it has fallen, and the evening it has come, go to sleep now little one. For the sake of your dear sister, for she can have no fun, go to sleep now little one So I will tell your father, and he will tell his son, go to sleep now little one. Soon it will be morning, and to fetch you I will come, go to sleep now little one. Lullaby, come now boy, settle down.

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released September 13, 2014

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Ange Hardy England, UK

Nominated for the Horizon Award for best emerging talent at the 2015 BBC Radio 2 Folk Awards, Ange Hardy is a folk singer, songwriter and recording artist from West Somerset, England. Ange performs original contemporary songs written in a traditional style with an emphasis on vocal harmony. ... more

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