(*NOTE the main body of this was written a month ago on a Saturday night after getting home. Just finished editing tonight -thanks to London Writers’ Salon and Writers’ Hour- because, well, other things have come first BUT MAINLY because I forgot all about it!)
I was buzzin (can’t seem to pronounce that last “ng” sound. Must be us Nottingham folk) a few substack posts ago and I am again now that I’m back from the most lush evening of music in a very atmospheric old church in Sherwood)
I turned up this evening having not met any of the organisers before at all. It just came about via a message I received out the blue on Instagram a few weeks ago. It was from one of the founders of a small local record label. When they mentioned singing in a church and also that there was a lovely churchyard with trees… well how could I say no?
It ended up being quite impromptu, with singing in the churchyard too as people left. That was probably the bit I loved the most to be honest. It was twilight and as folks filtered away in the dusk and the 98% full moon peeked through the shimmering clouds, I stood in the dark by a tree and sang two songs about dying.
This one called The Old Churchyard has the most poignant lyrics
“Come, come with me out to the old churchyard,
I so well know those paths, neath the soft green sward.
Friends slumber in there that we want to regard;
We will trace out their names in the old churchyard.
Mourn not for them, their trials are o’er,
And why weep for those who will weep no more?
For sweet is that sleep, though cold and hard
Their pillows may be in the old churchyard.
I know that it’s vain when our friends depart
To breathe kind words to a broken heart;
And I know that the joy of life is marred
When we follow those friends to the old churchyard.
But were I at rest neath yonder tree,
O, why would you weep, my friends, for me?
I’m so weary, so wayworn, why would you retard
The peace I seek in the old churchyard?
Why weep for me, for I’m anxious to go
To that haven of rest where no tears ever flow;
And I fear not to enter that dark lonely tomb
Where Jesus has lain and conquered the gloom.
𝄆 I rest in hope that one bright day
Sunshine will burst through these prisons of clay,
And the sound of the trumpet and music so gay
Will end up all grief in the old churchyard.”
And then I sang a rather eerie song too called Twa Corbies, as I stood by the gravestones by the moonlight.
LYRICS
“As I was walking all alane
I spied twa corbies makin a mane;
The tane unto the t'ither say
"Whar shall we gang and dine the day-o
Whar shall we gang and dine the day?"
"In behind yon auld fail dyke
I wot ther lies a new slain knight;
Naebody kens that he lies ther-o
But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair
His hawk and his hound and his lady fair."
"His hound is to the hunting gane
His hawk to fetch the muir-fowl hame
His lady's ta'en anither mate
Sae, we may mak our dinner sweet-o
Sae, we may mak our dinner sweet."
"Ye'll light upon his white haus-bane
And I'll pyke out his bonny blue een;
Wi many a lock o' his yellow hair
We'll theek our nest where it grows bare
We'll theek our nest where it grows bare."
"Many a ane for him maks mane
But nane shall ken whar he is gane;
O'er his white banes, whan they are bare
The wind sall blaw for ever mair-o
The wind sall blaw for ever mair."
I’m suddenly feeling really so very tired. It’s still only early for me (12.30am) but I think I shall turn in soon. What a busy day it was.. Started with a morning checking and filling up my modest little antiques stall.
(pic. Sorting stuff ready to take)
Funnily enough I started the day chatting about vinyl (which I am clueless about by the way ) and ended the day the same as they had some for sale at the concert . I got into a very interesting conversation with another dealer who buys and sells records. He showed us all around the antiques centre including floors and places I had never even seen before - all sorts of rare pottery and old ornaments and objects inside glass cabinets that you’d usually see in a museum. I just love old stuff. It is so fascinating. Like seeing the past before our very eyes
And then going to the church this evening, well it was a full afternoon of preparation (which is having a lie down then leaving everything until the very last minute possible). I never get nervous singing in front of people and to be honest I dont even practice. Maybe i’ll just decide on a running order and what daft things to say in bewtween songs. But other than that I’d rather just turn up with no idea of what is going off at all.
I like to be a bit spontaneous on the day and changed a song or two in the end.
This is what I sang:
I started off with “Nottamun Town” (I sang it as “Nottingham Town” coz basically that’s where it was originally from of course, like all the best things in the world…."! (EXAMPLES AT THE BOTTOM)
I digress. This song is kind of a “nonsense” song and I believe it was probably from a mummers play many years ago. Then taken over to America and slightly altered. Simon, who organised the evening asked me if I could walk down the aisle singing this to give the element of surprise. But I laughed and said nooooooo, I couldn’t possibly as I’d feel stupid like I was getting married to myself!! So I just walked down the side of the pews instead and blasted out this song in the silent church. Poor folks in the audience probably wondered what on earth it was!!
“In Nottamun Town not a soul would look up
Not a soul would look up, not a soul would look down
Not a soul would look up, not a soul would look down
To show me the way to fair Nottamun Town.
I rode a grey horse, a mule roany mare
Grey mane and grey tail, a green stripe down her back
Grey mane and grey tail, a green stripe down her back
There wa’nt a hair on her be-what was coal black.”
Thorneymoor Woods - a poaching song which I love because I have the exact dogs that would have used in this song no doubt - lurchers.
Bit of a gruesome song (though not THAT bad as far as folk songs are concerned) - dog gets shot, owner goes to beat the gamekeeper with a stick, cuts the buck’s throat and skins him for the butcher, and there’s some swearing too - only “bugger”… but still - hope they didn’t mind at the choch1. Thorneymoor Woods used to be my older children’s’ most favourite song and I sang it to them at bedtime every night when they were small. One day I recall being at a playgroup and when the nursery nurse asked for what song to sing next, my boy said “Doggy got shot song”… I had to shush him!
Here it is again in an old tunnel in town
Next was Rosemary Lane - love this song. It’s one of those that always just comes out my mouth. Oh and talking about great things from my hometown of Nottingham - this lady was from just up the road from me, literally. She seems to be REALLY well known in the folk world and I have learnt so, so many songs from her very unique recordings.
The Bone Lace Weaver - my favourite drum song (accompanied by the bodhran). It isn’t a local song but thought I just HAD to do it because Nottingham was once very well known for lace production. Someone asked me recently its origin. This website explains it best.
Song of the Lower Classes was last - here I am singing it with the ferrets, as you do.
Well, I was really happy to sing in that church - it was just my cup of tea really. Bit of history, nice audience (listening), and other lovely musicians.
GREAT THINGS/FAMOUS FOLKS FROM THE SHIRE OF NOTTINGHAM
Robin Hood
Goose Fair - the oldest charter fair in England
The Trip to Jerusalem - oldest pub in England
Nottingham Lace
Luddites (named after Ned Ludd from Notts)
Raleigh Bikes
Robin Hood
I think also HP sauce may be from here (even though it stands for “Houses of Parliament”
Dh Lawrence
Lord Byron
Anne Briggs (famous in the folk world - amazing singer of the 60’s and lived just up road from my old house)
Ben Caunt - boxer born in Newstead village (down the road from Bryon’s home and also my old village) and whom the bell in BIG BEN is named after!!
Oh did I mention Robin Hood?!
The Nottingham Catchfly
The Nottingham Crocus
I could name football/cricket players but I am not all that much into popular culture
Being once the most important place for willow growing (over 200 spp.) for basketry - the areas of Attenborough and Basford
This list has actually made me feel a bit better after all the crap that happened in my home city over the last month.
church - I do love to write the vernacular as I hear myself speaking it thus as I write now and then