Verse (Ariel) Where the bee sucks, there suck I: In a cowslip’s bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat’s back I do fly
Refrain After summer merrily. Merrily, Merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. {original text ends here}
(Piano Interlude)
Verse Where the bee sucks, there suck I: {my additions and repetitions} In a cowslip’s bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat’s back I do fly. . .
(Cello & Harpsichord Soli)
Verse Where the bee sucks, there suck I: On the bat’s back I do fly
Refrain After summer merrily. Merrily, Merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough (Interlude a key higher)
. . . hangs on the bough . . . . . . shall I live now . . .
Coda Merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. In a cowslip’s bell I lie; Where the bee sucks, there suck I!
I spent happy times by the lakes in the Lake District - but have no songs about them
Over the border Loch Lomond has oft been sung about - such as this one
By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes, Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond Where me and my true love were ever wont to gae, On the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomond.
Chorus
O ye’ll tak’ the high road and I’ll tak’ the low road, And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye. But me and my true love will never meet again, On the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomond.
‘Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen, On the steep, steep side o’ Ben Lomond. Where in deep purple hue, the hieland hills we view, And the moon comin’ out in the gloamin’.
The wee birdies sing and the wild flowers spring, And in sunshine the waters are sleeping: But the broken heart, it kens nae second spring again, Tho’ the waefu’ may cease from their greeting.
The following photo has conditional freedom of use - Creative Commons License - the attributes are below
Thou art to all lost love the best, The only true plant found, Wherewith young men and maids distrest And left of love, are crown'd.
When once the lover's rose is dead Or laid aside forlorn, Then willow-garlands, 'bout the head, Bedew'd with tears, are worn.
When with neglect, the lover's bane, Poor maids rewarded be, For their love lost their only gain Is but a wreath from thee.
And underneath thy cooling shade, When weary of the light, The love-spent youth, and love-sick maid, Come to weep out the night.
I'm a weeping willow for you. I have tears on my pillow thanks to you. You're the only one I'd give up the sun on rainy days or forever be lost than to ever find my way.
I'm a weeping willow. I've cried more than you'll ever smile. I'm a weeping willow yet I love you and that's how, that's how I live.
It's you I want and it's you I've got in my branches can't you see?
I'm a weeping willow for you. I've cried more than you've smiled. It's true.
Every now and then - I realise I have not listened to "The Streets of Laredo"for quite some time. Now I am not a great enthusiast of the raunchy Country and Western type song, but some western songs, particularly ballads I find very favourable. So off I shoot (pun) to find a copy of Marty Robbins singing the said song.
Last week I was listening to some mournful ballady Irish Folk songs when I recalled that I had not listend to Marty Robbins for a while, I could not find his cassettes, I am not set up at the moment to play vinyl, AND I discovered that I have not got any Digital versions of Marty Robbins.
Off to Amazon and other likely sites to purchase some Marty I discovered that the vast majority of the available offerings tend to be compilations that feature his hits over and over again with lots of overlap and few variations. To get a comprehensive selection (with as few purchases as possible) took a lot of research. During the research I saw some sleeve notes that suggested the 'Streets of Laredo' was a traditional song of unknown origin but based on an Irish song called the 'Bard of Armagh'.
I had started out trying to add to my Irish collection, particularly 'The Fureys', when I had become sidetracked by my Marty adventures, so I revised my Irish selection to include a 'Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem' cd that included 'The Bard of Armagh, and a Marty anthology of 3 CDs that included some that I especially wanted.
Well the Clancys arrived pronto, but Marty has still not been dispatched - I am waiting.
Meanwhile here is Marty Robbins on You Tube singing 'The Streets Of Laredo'
As I walked out in the streets of Laredo As I walked out in Laredo one day I spied a young cowboy wrapped all in white linen Wrapped in white linen as cold as the clay
Oh beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly Sing the dead march as you carry me along Take me to the valley then lay the sod o'er me I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong
I see by your outfit that you are a cowboy These words he did say as I boldly walked by Come sit down beside me and hear my sad story Got shot in the breast and I know I must die
Go fetch me some water a cool cup of water To cool my hot lips then the poor cowboy said Before I return his spirit had left him Had gone to his Maker the cowboy was dead
Oh beat the drum slowly...
In the meantime the story gets more involved.
Various sources suggest that BOTH the 'Bard of Armagh' AND therefore 'Streets of Laredo' were based upon a much earlier English traditional song called 'The Unfortunate Lad'. The Unfortunate Lad was fairly quickly renamed 'The Unfortunate Rake' and hundreds of different versions of the words spread round England, Britain and America.
One version eventually became 'Streets of Laredo' another version became the Jazz Classic ''St James Infirmary' but the tune was revamped in the way that Jazz does so often - into somethingwhich I cannot recognise.
The bad news is that on My Clancy Brothers Album the volume is very low, as it is on a 'You Tube ' offering.
The Bard of Armagh
Oh, list to the lay of a poor Irish harper And scorn not the strains of his old withered hand But remember his fingers they once could move sharper To raise up the memory of his dear native land
At a fair or a wake I could twist my shillelagh Or trip through a jig with my brogues bound with straw And all the pretty colleens in the village or the valley Loved their bold Phelim Brady, the bard of Armagh
Oh, how I long to muse on the days of my boyhood Though four-score and three years have flitted since then But it bring sweet reflections as every young joy should For the merry-hearted boys make the best of old men
And when Sergeant Death in his cold arms shall embrace me Then lull me to sleep with sweet Erin go Bragh By the side of my Kathleen, my young wife, then place me And forget Phelim Brady, the bard of Armagh
This amateur version is louder - but perhaps not sung as angelically- though it does have more verses.
The Bard of Armagh
Oh list' to the strains of an old Irish harper And scorn not the strings from his old withered hands But remember those fingers could once move more sharper To raise up the memory of his dear native land.
It was long ere the shamrock, our dear isle's lovely emblem Was crushed in its beauty by the Saxon's red paw And all the pretty colleens from village and valley Loved the bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh.
How I love to muse on the days of my boyhood Though four score and three years have fled by since then It's king's sweet reflection that every young joy should For merry-hearted boys make the best of old men.
At a fair or a wake I would twist my shillelah And trip through a dance with my boots tied with straw And all the pretty maidens from village and valley Loved the bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh.
In truth I have wandered this whole wide world over Yet Ireland's my home and a dwelling for me And, oh, let the turf that my old bones shall cover Be cut from the land that is trod by the free.
And when Sergeant Death in his cold arms shall embrace me And lull me to sleep with sweet "Erin go bragh" By the side of my Kathleen, my young wife, oh place me Then forget Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh.
Now the tune to Bard of Armagh connects me straight away to the Laredo tune, though the content perhaps is different.
The original song traded on the misfortune of the Lad / Rake who having spread his oats too freely caught a venereal disease from one of his conquests. The Laredo version often called 'The Cowboys Lament' trades on the fact that a cowboy who shoots his own gun very often is likely to die by the bullet from another's gun. St James Infirmary continues these themes, but I cannot interpret 'The bard of Armagh' this way am I missing something?
Similarly I cannot see any similarity in the tune to St James Infirmary am I missing something here also ?
Galangal, (Malay lengkuas) (also known as blue ginger), is a rhizome with culinary and medicinal uses, best known in the west today for its contribution to Southeast Asia cuisine but also common in recipes from medieval Europe.
Africa / Early U.S. Slaves
Chewing John" is galangal, Alpinia galanga -- a member of the ginger family. This is chewed much as chewing tobacco is chewed, to sweeten the breath and to calm the stomach. It is said that if you spit the juice from chewing this root onto the floor of a courtroom before the judge enters, you will win your case.
Thai soups similar to Tom Yam
Just had your first taste of Tom Kha Gai and your senses are still reeling from the exotic citrus flavor of something that clearly was not a fruit? Did you bite into something so exciting and pleasant that you thought about forgetting the main course and simply ordering more soup? The “kha” in that soup is a fantastic member of the ginger family called galanga or galangal. It is native to Southern China and Thailand but was introduced to Europe in the 9th century, almost 500 years before Marco Polo.
Galangal along with Turmeric are part of the 'Ginger' family.
According to contemporary herbal sources, galangal is a warming, digestive tonic with a stimulating and terminative effect on digestion. Simply stated, it promotes the secretion of gastric juices, aids peristalsis, and relieves gas in the gastrointestinal tract. Anyone who has tasted galangal knows this to be true; they may even recognize that it dispels those disturbing gases that make one want to heave after a heavy meal. What is less well known is that these very same gases, by-products of fermentation when digestive action is not strong enough to metabolize an entire meal, circulate throughout the system causing spasms, everything from hiccups to sharp cardiac pains. What terminative spices do is neutralize the gases so that they cease to exist! By doing this, the many symptoms of the invisible but gusty winds subside.
