Post by Kaffekat on Oct 5, 2003 20:30:39 GMT -5
(For medieval/ folk / Viking music I highly recommend: Steeleye Span: MEDIEVAL MUSIC as it Should BE!!! (Could be? should have been ? ) LOL
In other words, it is medieval to a point - (picture Gandalf with an electric guitar... kind of)
THE WIFE OF USHERS WELL
There lived a wife at Usher’s Well,
And a wealthy wife was she;
She had three stout and stalwart sons,
And sent them oer the sea.
They hadna been a week from her,
A week but barely ane,
Whan word came to the carline wife
That her three sons were gane.
‘I wish the wind may never cease,
Nor fashes in the flood,
Till my three sons come hame to me,
In earthly flesh and blood.”
It fell about the Martinmass,
When nights are lang and mirk,
The carlin’s wife three songs came hame,
And their hats were o the birk.
It neither grew in syke nor ditch,
Nor yet in ony shengh;
But at the gates o Paradise,
That birk grew fair enough.
Blow up the fire, my maidens,
Bring water from the well;
For a’ my house shall feast this night ,
Since my three sons are well.’
And she has made to them a bed,
She’s made it large and wide,
And she’s taen her mantle her about,
Sat down at the bed-side.
Up then crew the red, red cock,
And up and crew the grey;
The oldest to the youngest said,
It’s time we were away.
The cock he hadna crawd but once,
And clappd his wings at a’,
When the youngest to the eldest said,
Brother, we must awa.
‘The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,
The channerin worm doth chide;
Gin we mist out o our place,
A sair pain we maun bide.
‘Fare ye weel, my mother dear!
Fareweel to barn and byre!
And fare ye weel, the bonny lass,
That kindles my mothers fire.
In other words, it is medieval to a point - (picture Gandalf with an electric guitar... kind of)
THE WIFE OF USHERS WELL
There lived a wife at Usher’s Well,
And a wealthy wife was she;
She had three stout and stalwart sons,
And sent them oer the sea.
They hadna been a week from her,
A week but barely ane,
Whan word came to the carline wife
That her three sons were gane.
‘I wish the wind may never cease,
Nor fashes in the flood,
Till my three sons come hame to me,
In earthly flesh and blood.”
It fell about the Martinmass,
When nights are lang and mirk,
The carlin’s wife three songs came hame,
And their hats were o the birk.
It neither grew in syke nor ditch,
Nor yet in ony shengh;
But at the gates o Paradise,
That birk grew fair enough.
Blow up the fire, my maidens,
Bring water from the well;
For a’ my house shall feast this night ,
Since my three sons are well.’
And she has made to them a bed,
She’s made it large and wide,
And she’s taen her mantle her about,
Sat down at the bed-side.
Up then crew the red, red cock,
And up and crew the grey;
The oldest to the youngest said,
It’s time we were away.
The cock he hadna crawd but once,
And clappd his wings at a’,
When the youngest to the eldest said,
Brother, we must awa.
‘The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,
The channerin worm doth chide;
Gin we mist out o our place,
A sair pain we maun bide.
‘Fare ye weel, my mother dear!
Fareweel to barn and byre!
And fare ye weel, the bonny lass,
That kindles my mothers fire.