A bold young farmer courted me
He stole my love and my liberty
He stole my love and my liberty
And I must confess that I love him still
I wish, I wish, but it's all in vain
I wish I was a sweet maid again
But a maid, a maid I'll never be
'Till apples grow out of an orange tree
And now I wish my baby was born
And sitting on his Daddy's knee
And me poor maid was dead and gone
The green grass growing over me
There sits a bird in yonder tree
They say he's blind and cannot see
But I that bird would rather be
Since that bold farmer courted me
Here's one, two, three jolly lads all in one mind
We are come a pace egging and I hope you'll prove kind
And I hope you'll prove kind with your eggs and strong beer
For we'll come no more nigh you until the next year
And the first to come in is Lord Nelson you'll see
With a bunch of blue ribbons tied round by his knee
And a star on his breast that like silver doth shine
And I hope he remembers it's pace egging time
Here's one, two, three jolly lads...
And the next to come in, it is Lord Collingwood
And he fought with Lord Nelson till he shed his blood
And he's come from the sea, Old England to view
And he's come a pace-egging with all of his crew
Here's one, two, three jolly lads...
And the last to come in is old Toss Pot you'll see
He's a valiant old man and in every degree
He's a valiant old man and he wears a pig tail
And his only delight is a-drinking mulled ale
Here's one, two, three jolly lads...
Come ladies and gentlemen, sit by the fire
Put your hands in your pockets and give us our desire
Put your hands in your pockets and treat us all right
If you give nowt we'll take nowt, farewell and goodnight
Here's one, two, three jolly lads all in one mind
We are come a pace egging and I hope you'll prove kind
And I hope you'll prove kind with your eggs and strong beer
For we'll come no more nigh you until the next year
Guitar chords for Pace Egging Song
C
Here's one, two, three jolly lads all in one mind
G7 F
We are come a pace egging and I hope you’ll prove kind
C F G7 C
And I hope you'll prove kind with your eggs and strong beer
F G7 C
For we'll come no more nigh you un-til the next year
In his paper on English Ritual Songs, Mike Ballantyne writes:
Easter is a Lunar festival that occurs on the first Sunday following the full moon of the vernal equinox. It can, therefore, fall anywhere between March 22 and April 25. In Teutonic myth, the Easter hare – the sacred and sacrificial animal of Astra or Eostre – the Teutonic goddess of dawn and the Spring – laid the eggs which in our times she is only said to deliver. In the term “pace egg,” “pace” is, ultimately, derived from the Hebrew word for Passover. This has now evolved, through Greek and Latin, into asso- ciation with the Resurrection. As the Celtic festival was also concerned with rebirth (albeit a rebirth in nature), it is relatively easy to see how convenient it was for the Roman church to adopt existing, pre-Christian festivals.
There are three main customs that still exist relating specifically to pace-egging. These are the singing of songs from door to door (which might properly be called Easter carolling or wassailling), egg rolling, and the staging of Pace-Egging plays. The majority of these customs are held in the northern half of England.
A poor old man was crossing the road
Crossing the road, crossing the road
A poor old man was crossing the road
When along came a man with a wheelbarrow
Oh, don't let the wheels of your wheelbarrow
Don't let the wheels of your wheelbarrow
Oh don't let the wheels of your wheelbarrow
Run over the poor old man
A poor old man was crossing the road
Crossing the road, crossing the road
A poor old man was crossing the road
When along came a man with a fish and chip potato cart
Oh, don't let the wheels of your fish and chip potato cart wheelbarrow
Don't let the wheels of your fish and chip potato cart wheelbarrow
Oh don't let the wheels of your fish and chip potato cart wheelbarrow
Run over the poor old man
A poor old man was crossing the road etc...
When along came a man with a
...Trolley-bus wire wiper
...Corporation cart what sucks water up an 'ole
The Keeper did a-shooting go
And under his cloak he carried a bow
All for to shoot at a merry little doe
Among the leaves so green-o
Jackie-boy (Master)
Sing ye well (Very well)
Hey down (Ho down)
Derry, derry down
Among the leaves so green-o
To my hey down down (To my ho down down)
Hey down (Ho down)
Derry, derry down, among the leaves so green-o
The first doe he shot at he missed
The second doe he trimmed, he kissed
The third doe went where nobody wist
Among the leaves so green-o
Jackie-boy (Master)...
The fourth doe she did cross the plain
The keeper fetched her back again
Where she is now she may remain
Among the leaves so green-o
Jackie-boy (Master)...
The fifth doe she did cross the brook
The keeper fetched her back with his crook
Where she is now you may go and look
Among the leaves so green-o
Jackie-boy (Master)...
The sixth doe she ran over the plain
But he with his hounds did turn her again
It is there he did hunt in a merry, merry vein
Among the leaves so green-o
Jackie-boy (Master)
Sing ye well (Very well)
Hey down (Ho down)
Derry, derry down
Among the leaves so green-o
To my hey down down (To my ho down down)
Hey down (Ho down)
Derry, derry down, among the leaves so green-o
Take this hammer, carry it to the Captain
Take this hammer, carry it to the Captain
Take this hammer, carry it to the Captain
Tell him I'm gone, Tell him I'm gone
If he ask you was I running
You can tell him I was flying, You can tell him I was flying
If he ask you was I laughin'
You can tell him I was crying, You can tell him I was crying
I don't want no cold iron shackles
'Cause they hurts my feet Lord, 'cause they hurts my feet
I don't want no cornbread and molasses
'Cause they hurts my pride Lord, 'cause they hurts my pride
Swing this hammer, it looks like silver
Swing this hammer, it looks like silver
Swing this hammer, it looks like silver
But it feels like lead Lord, it feels like lead
Guitar Chords
E7 B7
Take this hammer, carry it to the captain
B7 E7
Take this hammer, carry it to the captain
E7 A7
Take this hammer, carry it to the captain
E7 B7 E7
Tell him I'm gone, Tell him I'm gone
They call me hanging Johnny
Away boys away
But I never hanged nobody
So hang boys hang em
They says I hanged me granny
Away boys away
And all me bloomin' family
So hang boys hang em
They says I hanged me mother
Away boys away
Me sister and me brother
So hang boys hang em
Well I am a rotten liar
Away boys away
For I'd hang the bloody friar
So hang boys hang em
Now they says I hang for money
Away boys away
But hanging's so bloody funny
So hang boys hang em
Now we all will hang together
Away boys away
And we'll haul for better weather
So hang boys hang em
Some pals and I in a public house were playing dominoes last night
When all of a sudden in the potman rushed with a face just like a kite
What's up? says Brown, Have you seen your Aunt?
Have you seen your Aunt Maria?
Aunt Maria be blowed, says he, The bloomin' pub's on fire
What's that? says Brown, What a bit of luck
What a bit of luck, shouts he
Down in the cellar with a fire on top we'll have a good ol' spree
So we all went down with good ol' Brown and beer we couldn't miss,
And we hadn't been ten minutes there before we were like this
Oh, there was Brown, upside down
Knocking back the whiskey on the floor
Booze! booze! the firemen cried
As they came a-knocking at the door
Don't let 'em in till it's all mopped up
Someone shouted, MacIntyre!
And we all got blue-blind paralytic drunk
When the Old Dun Cow caught fire
Old Johnson rushed to the port wine tub and gave it just a few hard knocks
He started taking off his pantaloons, likewise his shoes and socks
Hold on! says Snoops, If you wanna wash yer feet
There's a tub of four ale here
Don't dip your trotters in the port wine tub
When we've still got some old stale beer
Just then there came such and awful crash
Half the bloomin' roof gave way
We was run with the firemen's hose but still we were all gay
We got some sacks and some old tin tacks and bunged ourselves inside
And we got drinking good old scotch till we was bleary eyed
Oh, there was Brown, upside down
Knocking back the whiskey on the floor
Booze! booze! the firemen cried
As they came a-knocking at the door
Don't let 'em in till it's all mopped up
Someone shouted, MacIntyre!
And we all got blue-blind paralytic drunk
When the Old Dun Cow caught fire
Harry Wincott
This was a popular English music hall song before 1900. It was illegal to yell “Fire!” in a public building, so the word “MacIntyre” was used instead – the audience would all join in and shout it together.
Near Banbridge Town in the County Down
One morning last July
From a boreen green came a sweet coleen
And she smiled as she passed me by
She looked so sweet from her two bare feet
To the sheen of her nut brown hair
Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself
For to see I was really there
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
And from Galway to Dublin Town
No maid I've seen like the brown colleen
That I met in the County Down
As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head
And I looked with a feeling rare
And I says, says I, to a passer-by
Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?
He smiled at me and he says, says he
That's the gem of Ireland's crown
Young Rosie McCann from the Banks of the Bann
She's the star of the County Down
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
And from Galway to Dublin Town
No maid I've seen like the brown colleen
That I met in the County Down
At the harvest fair she'll be surely there
And I'll dress in my Sunday clothes
With my shoes shone bright and my hat cocked right
For a smile from my nut-brown rose
No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke
Till my plough turns a rust-coloured brown
Till a smiling bride by my own fireside
Sits the star of the County Down
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
And from Galway to Dublin Town
No maid I've seen like the brown colleen
That I met in the County Down
Guitar chords for Star of the County Down
Em G D
Near Banbridge Town in the County Down
Em C D
One morning last July
Em G D
From a boreen green came a sweet coleen
Em C D Em
And she smiled as she passed me by
G D
She looked so sweet from her two bare feet
G Em D
To the sheen of her nut brown hair
Em G D
Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself
Em C D Em
For to see if I was really there
G Am
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
G Em D
And from Galway to Dublin Town
Em G D
No maid I've seen like the brown colleen
Em C D Em
That I met in the County Down
I went to Blaydon races 'twas on the ninth of June
Eighteen hundred and sixty two on a summer's afternoon
I took the bus from Balmbra's and she was heavy laden
Away we went along Collingwood Street that's on the road to Blaydon
Oh me lads you should have seen us ganning
Passing the folks upon the road
Just as they were standing
There were lots of lads and lasses there
And all with smiling faces
Ganning along the Scotswood road
To see the Blaydon races
We flew past Armstrong's factory and up to the Robin Adair
Just ganning down to the railway bridge the bus wheel flew off there
The lasses last their crinolines off and the veils that hide their faces
And I got two black eyes and a broken nose in ganning to Blaydon races
Oh me lads you should have seen us ganning...
When we got the wheel put on, away we went again
But them that had their noses broke they came over home
Some went to the dispensary and some to Doctor Gibbs
And some to the Infirmary to mend their broken ribs
Oh me lads you should have seen us ganning...
Now when we got to Paradise there was bonny game begun
There was four and twenty on the bus, man, how they danced and sang
They called on me to sing a song; I sang them Paddy Fagan
I danced a jig and I swung me twig the day I went to Blaydon
Oh me lads you should have seen us ganning
Passing the folks upon the road
Just as they were standing
There were lots of lads and lasses there
And all with smiling faces
Ganning along the Scotswood road
To see the Blaydon races
I sits at the corner of Beggars
Astride of an old packing case
And the dolls at the end of the plank were dancing
As he crooned with a smile on his face.
Da Da Da come day go day
Wish in me heart it was Sunday la la la la
Drinking buttermilk all the week
But it's whisky on a Sunday
His tired old hands have a wooden beam
And the puppets they dance up and down
A far better show than you ever will see
In the fanciest theatre in town
Da Da Da come day go day
Wish in me heart it was Sunday la la la la
Drinking buttermilk all the week
But it's whisky on a Sunday
In 1902 old Seth Davey died
His song was heard no more
The three dancing dolls in the dustbin were thrown
And the plank went to mend the back door
Da Da Da come day go day
Wish in me heart it was Sunday la la la la
Drinking buttermilk all the week
But it's whisky on a Sunday
On some stormy night if you're passing that way
And the winds blowing up from the sea
You will still hear the sound of old Seth Davey
As he croons to his dancing girls three
Da Da Da come day go day
Wish in me heart it was Sunday la la la la
Drinking buttermilk all the week
But it's whisky on a Sunday
Glyn Hughes
Notes
Whisky on a Sunday, AKA Come Day, Go Day, AKA Seth Davy was written in the 1960s by Glyn Hughes. Hughes was born in Liverpool in 1932 and died there in 1972. During his brief life he had many occupations: journalist, short-story writer, bookseller’s assistant, musician in a circus, film extra, hotel liftman and song writer, to mention only a few. The song is about a well-known Jamaican street entertainer in Liverpool in the 1890s/1900s and has been recorded by among others The Dubliners, The Irish Rovers and Rolf Harris.
Gerry Jones, Liverpool singer, says:
“Seth Davy was a real person, he really existed, and he died a couple of years into the 20th century. There was a street and a pub, both called Bevington Bush just north of Liverpool City Centre, and Seth Davy did do a busking act outside.
“In his book Liverpool: Our City – Our Heritage, Freddie O’Connor tells us that in 1760, half a mile from Marybone (St Patrick’s Cross) along Bevington Bush Road was a hamlet named Bevington Bush which had an inn called simply the Bush, which became a favourite haunt for folk to travel out into the country, to the Bevy Inn, as it became fondly known. With the opening of Scotland Road, the ancient Bevington Bush Road became a minor road amidst the massive slum district that would soon engulf it. As the district was built up it also lost its original name.
“Please do not be taken in by any Irish versions of this song, or any reference to “Bebbington”. Bebington is “over the water” – not in Liverpool at all. I know the truth for a fact because, when I was a brand-new teacher in the Dingle in 1963, our old lollypop man told me that he had actually seen Seth Davy doing his stuff. So I have spoken to a first-hand witness.
“I have heard that Seth Davy’s own singing was a non-too-wonderful monotone, and not the pleasant melody that was written about him in the 60s folk boom.”
Dubliner’s Version
The version in the FSC book is the Dubliners’ although with one or two differences:
Oh, he sits at the corner of Beggar's Bush
Astride of an old packing case
And the dolls at the end of the plank were dancing
And he crooned with a smile on his face
Come day, go day
Wish in me heart it was Sunday
Drinkin' buttermilk all the week
And it's whisky on a Sunday
His tired old hands tug a wooden beam
And the puppets they danced up and down
A far better show than you ever will see
In the fanciest theatre in town
Come day, go day...
In 1902 old Seth Davy died
His song it was heard no more
The three dancing dolls in the dustbin were thrown
When the plank went to mend a backdoor
Come day, go day...
But some stormy night, if you're passing that way
When the wind's blowing up from the sea
You may still hear the song of old Seth Davy
As he croons to his dancing dolls three
Come day, go day
Wish in me heart it was Sunday
Drinkin' buttermilk all the week
And it's whisky on a Sunday
There are about 75 versions of the lyrics on the web, but only two use the phrase “wishing me heart” in the chorus as opposed to “wish in me heart” and one of those is from a Dutch language website, so it seems likely that it’s a mistake. However, that’s how oral traditions continue…