Pentangle “Willy O Winsbury”

Willie O Winsbury is Child Ballad 100 (Roud 64). The song, which has numerous variants, is a traditional Scottish ballad that dates from at least 1775, and is known under several other names, including “Johnnie Barbour” and “Lord Thomas of Winesberry”.

Traditional lyrics

The king had been a prisoner

And a prisoner long in Spain

And Willy of the Winsbury

Has lain long with his daughter at home

“What ails you, what ails you, my daughter Janet?

Why you look so pale and wan?

Oh, have you had any sore sickness

Or yet been sleeping with a man?”

“I have not had any sore sickness

Nor yet been sleeping with a man

It is for you, my father dear

For biding so long in Spain”

“Cast off, cast off your berry-brown gown

You stand naked upon the stone

That I may know you by your shape

If you be a maiden or none”

And she 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

“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 my serving men

That’s lately come out of Spain?”

“No, it wasn’t with a lord or a duke or a knight

Nor a man of birth and fame

But it was with Willy of Winsbury

I could bide no longer alone”

And the king has called on his merry men all

By thirty and by three

Says, “Fetch me this Willy of Winsbury

For hanged he shall be”

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

“And it is no wonder”, said the king

“That my daughter’s love you did win

For 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”

“Oh yes, I will marry your daughter Janet

By the truth of my right hand

Oh yes, I will marry your daughter Janet

But I’ll not be the lord of 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

As she shall ride in a long summer’s dayhttps://lyricstranslate.com

Who is the Writer Behind “House of the Rising Sun?”

By Jacob Uitti

The legendary blues song “The House of the Rising Sun” is one of those tunes with a murky origin story. Who wrote it? Was there a single person to do so? It’s unclear.

The traditional folk song is about a person whose life has gone down the drain thanks to a location in New Orleans, Louisiana. To date, there are many renditions of the song, from Bob Dylan to Dolly Parton and Dave Van Ronk.

The most famous version of the track was recorded in 1964 by the British rock band, The Animals. That version hit No. 1 on the U.K. singles chart, as well as in the U.S. and Canada. It has since been called the “first folk rock hit.”

Early Versions and Alan Lomax

The song originally appeared in Appalachia, in the Northeast part of the United States. But it likely has roots in traditional English folk songs, experts say. Though the exact authorship is unknown today.

Music scholars have noted that it bears resemblance to the 16th-century song “The Unfortunate Rake,” but whether these songs are siblings, so to speak, is unknown.

Legendary folk song expert Alan Lomax has noted that the melody may be related to the 17th-century folk song “Lord Barnard and Little Musgrave.” Again, though, there is no clear throughline between the two. Lomax has also said that “Rising Sun” was the name of a bawdy house, or whore house, in two other traditional English songs. It was also the name of an English pub.

In 1953, Lomax met English musician and farm worker Harry Cox, known for his wealth of folk song history, who said that there was a song called “She was a Rum One,” that had two possible opening lines. One is, If you go to Lowestoft, and ask for The Rising Sun, There you’ll find two old whores and my old woman is one. The recording Lomax and Harry Cox made is still available (here). Though, many believe Cox’s “She Was A Rum One” is not connected to “Rising Sun.”

Even Earlier Versions

Some scholars believe the song goes back to the turn of the 20th century in America, with the oldest published version of its lyrics credited to Robert Winslow Gordon in 1925. The lyrics ran in a column in Adventure magazine, titled “Old Songs That Men Have Sung.” Those lyrics go:

There is a house in New Orleans, it’s called the Rising Sun
It’s been the ruin of many poor girl
Great God, and I for one.

The oldest known recording is by Appalachian artists Clarence Ashley and Gwen Foster who cut a version in September of 1933. Ashley said he’d learned it from his grandfather, Enoch, who was married around the time of the Civil War. In Ashley’s version, which switches narrators between a man and a woman, the lyrics go:

There is a house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
Where many poor boys to destruction has gone
And me, oh God, are one.

Another early version was recorded by controversial American artist Leadbelly.

A bit later in 1937, Lomax recorded folks performing the song, including the 16-year-old daughter of a local miner, Georgia Turner. That song was recorded under the title “The Rising Sun Blues.”

Other songs exist with similar titles but are unrelated, including “Rising Sun Blues” by Ivy Smith in 1927.

Later Versions

American Songwriter previously wrote about the 1961 arrangement of the song by New York City folk artist Dave Van Ronk, here. That arrangement was later appropriated by Bob Dylan, causing some friction between the musical friends. Dolly Parton recorded her version in 1980.

Possible Rising Sun Locales

There are various places in Crescent City that have become possible locales for the subject of the song. Each has varying plausibility. While “House of the Rising Sun” often implies a brothel, many don’t know if the song points to a real place or a fictitious one.

Some think it could be a jailhouse, the place where a woman goes after she killed her alcoholic abusive father. Or it could be the place where prostitutes were detained.

According to old city directories of New Orleans, one short-lived hotel on Conti Street in the French Quarter in the 1820s was called Rising Sun. But it burned down in 1822. In the late 19th century, there was also Rising Sun Hall on what is now Cherokee Street. Also, in the 1860s, a place called The Rising Sun was advertised in local papers on what is now the lake side of the 100 block of Decatur Street. That place boasted a restaurant, a larger beer salon, and a coffee house.

Van Ronk, himself, wrote in his biography, The Mayor of MacDougal Street, that he was in New Orleans when someone showed him some old photos from the city. And among them “was a picture of a foreboding stone doorway with a carving on the lintel of a stylized rising sun … It was the Orleans Parish women’s prison.”

Furthermore, Bizarre New Orleans, a guidebook on New Orleans, says that the real house was at 1614 Esplanade Avenue between 1862 and 1874. It was said to have been named after its madam, Marianne LeSoleil Levant, whose name means “the rising sun” in French.

Guidebook, Offbeat New Orleans, asserts that the real House of the Rising Sun was at 826–830 St. Louis St. between 1862 and 1874, also purportedly named for Marianne LeSoleil Levant. The building still stands, and Eric Burdon, a British singer for The Animals and War, said after visiting at the behest of the owner, “The house was talking to me.”

Not everyone believes that the house actually existed. Pamela D. Arceneaux, a research librarian at the Williams Research Center in New Orleans, once said, “I have made a study of the history of prostitution in New Orleans and have often confronted the perennial question, ‘Where is the House of the Rising Sun?’ without finding a satisfactory answer.

“Although it is generally assumed that the singer is referring to a brothel, there is actually nothing in the lyrics that indicates that the ‘house’ is a brothel. Many knowledgeable persons have conjectured that a better case can be made for either a gambling hall or a prison; however, to paraphrase Freud: sometimes lyrics are just lyrics.”

Photo by David Redfern / Redferns

Morris On “Cuckoo’s Nest”

TRADITIONAL LYRICS

From the recording Morris On, by Ashley Hutchings, Richard Thompson, John Kirkpatrick, Barry Dransfield and Dave Mattacks.

  1. As I was a-walking one morning in May,
    I met a pretty fair maid, anon to her did say,
    “For love I am inclined, and I’ll tell you me mind,
    That me inclination lies in your cuckoo’s nest.”
  2. “Me darling,” says she, “I am innocent and young,
    And I scarcely can believe your false deluding tongue;
    Yet to see it in your eyes and it fills me with surprise,
    That your inclination lies in me cuckoo’s nest.”

    Chorus:
          Some like a girl who is pretty in the face,
          And some like a girl who is slender in the waist;
          But give me a girl that will wriggle and will twist.
          At the bottom of the belly lies the cuckoo’s nest.
  3. “Then me darling,” says he, “if you see it in me eyes,
    Then think of it as fondness and do not be surprised,
    For I love you, me dear, and I’ll marry you I swear
    If you let me clap me hand on your cuckoo’s nest.”
  4. “Me darling,” says she, “I can do no such thing,
    For me mother often told me it was committing sin,
    Me maidenhead to lose and me sex to be abused,
    So have no more to do with me cuckoo’s nest.”
    Chorus
  5. “Me darling,” says he, “it is not committing sin,
    but common sense should tell you it is a pleasing thing,
    For you were brought into this world to increase and do your best,
    And to help a man to heaven in your cuckoo’s nest.”
  6. “Then me darling,” says she, “I cannot you deny,
    For you’ve surely won me heart by the roving of your eye.
    Yet to see it in your eyes that your courage is surprised,
    So gently lift your hand in me cuckoo’s nest.”
    Chorus
  7. So this couple they got married and soon they went to bed,
    And now this pretty fair maid has lost her maidenhead;
    In a small country cottage they increase and do their best,
    And he often claps his hand on her cuckoo’s nest.
    Chorus

Dick Gaughan sings Burns’ “Westlin Winds”

Dick Gaughan’s classic version of Robert Burns song

And the moon shines bright, as I rove by night,
To muse upon my charmer.

This is one of Burns earliest songs, although he revised it later for publication. Written in 1775 at the time of Burns’ infatuation with Peggy Thomson of Kirkoswald.

`I spent my seventeenth summer,’ he wrote in his autobiographical letter to Dr Moore in August 1787, `on a smuggling [coast] a good distance from home at a noted school, to learn Mensuration, Surveying, Dialling, etc … I went on with a high hand in my Geometry; till the sun entered Virgo, a month which is always a carnival in my bosom, a charming Fillette who lived next door to the school overset my Trigonometry, and set me off on a tangent from the sphere of my studies.’

Later, he tried out a modification of this early song in honour of Jean Armour; no known copy survives. Going back to the same song, Burns then sent a version which has a number of Scots words in place of the original English diction to be printed in `The Scots Musical Museum’ (vol. iv, 1792, no. 351). Unusually for a love-song, `Now westlin winds’ includes four lines of protest against the `slaught’ring guns’ of sportsmen (ll 21-4). [source: Robert Burns’ poems and songs]


Lyrics:

Tune: I had a horse, I had nae mair

   Now westlin winds, and slaught’ring guns                     western

      Bring Autumn’s pleasant weather;

   The moorcock springs on whirring wings,

      Amang the blooming heather:

   Now waving grain, wide o’er the plain,

      Delights the weary farmer;

   And the moon shines bright, as I rove by night,

      To muse upon my charmer.

   The paitrick lo’es the fruitfu fells;                      partridge

      The plover lo’es the mountains;

   The woodcock haunts the lonely dells;

      The soaring hern the fountains:                             heron

   Thro lofty groves, the cushat roves,                          pigeon

      The path o man to shun it;

   The hazel bush o’erhangs the thrush,

      The spreading thorn the linnet.

   Thus ev’ry kind their pleasure find,

      The savage and the tender;

   Some social join, and leagues combine;

      Some solitary wander:

   Avaunt, away, the cruel sway!

      Tyrannic man’s dominion!

   The sportsman’s joy, the murd’ring cry,

      The flutt’ring, gory pinion!

   But Peggy dear, the ev’ning’s clear,

      Thick flies the skimming swallow;

   The sky is blue, the fields in view,

      All fading-green and yellow:

   Come let us stray our gladsome way,

      And view the charms of Nature;

   The rustling corn, the fruited thorn,

      And ilka happy creature.                                    every

   We’ll gently walk, and sweetly talk,

      While the silent moon shines clearly;

   I’ll clasp thy waist, and fondly prest,

      Swear how I lo’e thee dearly:

   Not vernal show’rs to budding flow’rs,

      Not Autumn to the farmer,

   So dear can be, as thou to me,

      My fair, my lovely charmer!