Sidney's Place: TRADITIONAL AIRS and GRACES

Many of the old British songs are described as “traditional airs”, their origin, authors and composers lost somewhere in the mists of history. Yet often the old songs are the best. When I was a wee boy in short trousers over 60 years ago, I recall at my prep-school having singing sessions presided over by the Headmaster’s wife, Elsie Nock, (with her pursed-lipped smile a dead ringer for the older Queen Victoria!) who tinkled the piano keys swaying energetically while the school assembly sang some old favourites out of The Community Song Book. These songs are every bit as much part of our heritage as wet summers and Eccles cakes and I earnestly hope, please agree Mr Gove, that they are still passed on diligently at schools the length of the land. Well, I am going to celebrate about a dozen of them anyway.

The BBC used to start its morning radio broadcast at about 5.30am by playing the splendid UK Theme, an orchestral medley of traditional songs from the 4 home countries arranged by Fritz Spiegl, a 1930s refugee from Germany. In its wisdom, this cherished music was predictably axed by the BBC in 2006 in the name of modernity or multi-culturalism or whatever fad upsets its despised listeners the most. The medley started with the charming 18^th century folk-song Early One Morning

Early one morning,
Just as the sun was rising,
I heard a young maid sing,
In the valley below.

Oh, don't deceive me,
Oh, never leave me,
How could you use
A poor maiden so?

In due course you come to the haunting and stirring Irish patriotic classic The Minstrel Boy composed by Thomas Moore in the early 19^th century:

The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him;
His father's sword he has girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;
"Land of Song!" said the warrior bard,
"Though all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"

I recall as an 11 year old having to sing Robert Burns’ Ye Banks and Braes o’ bonnie Doon at a house solo singing contest. I was doing fine until I forgot my words (you had to know them by rote) at the 6th line (I sadly did not win the contest!)

Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care!
Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn:
Thou minds me o' departed joys,
Departed never to return.

To cheer us up in Austerity Britain we also much enjoyed singing The British Grenadiers, our chests swelling with pride:

Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules
Of Hector and Lysander, and such great names as these.
But of all the world’s great heroes, there’s none that can compare.
With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, to the British Grenadiers.

The Welsh are very musical and their choirs are deservedly renowned. Who could not cheer at the tuneful martial beauty of Men of Harlech?

Men of Harlech, march to glory,
Victory is hov'ring o'er ye,
Bright-eyed freedom stands before ye,
Hear ye not her call?
At your sloth she seems to wonder;
Rend the sluggish bonds asunder,
Let the war-cry's deaf'ning thunder
Every foe appal.

There were gentler songs too; Ben Jonson’s romantic Drink to me only with thine Eyes was often repeated:

Drink to me only with thine eyes,
     And I will pledge with mine,
Or leave a kiss within the cup
     And I'll not ask for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
     Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove's nectar sip,
     I would not change for thine.

More devotional was the lovely tune accompanying a translated French carol, Whence is that Goodly Fragrance flowing?

Whence is that goodly fragrance flowing,
Stealing our senses all away,
Never the like did come a-blowing,
Shepherds, in flow'ry fields of May,
Whence is that goodly fragrance flowing,
Stealing our senses all away.

Certainly one of my all-time favourites was The Londonderry Air:

In Derry Vale, amidst the Foyle’s dark waters

so oft' I strayed, ah, many years ago,

and culled at morn the golden daffodillies

that came with spring to set the world aglow.

Oh, Derry Vale, my thoughts are ever turning

to your broad stream and fairy-circled lee.

For your green isles my exiled heart is yearning,

so far away across the sea.

There are hundreds of great songs and I cannot mention them all but we included Do you ken John Peel (with his coat so grey), Yorkshire’s On Ilkla Moor bar t’at (On Ilkley Moor without your hat) and The Ash Grove (Down yonder green valley where streamlets meander).

Cynics will say that these songs are hopelessly cliché-ridden and dated - singing them is somehow twee and precious. My response is a loud raspberry and a patriotic double broadside:

Towering in gallant fame,
Scotland my mountain hame,
High may your proud standards gloriously wave,
Land of my high endeavour,
Land of the shining river,
Land of my heart for ever, Scotland the brave.

Rounding off with Thomas Arne’s

Rule Britannia!

Britannia rule the waves

Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.

Yes, Scotland remains brave and Britannia once did indeed rule the waves, as the songs say, and the world is a better place for both.

SMD

27.01.14

Links

Early one morning http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nd1tSv7p16A

The Minstrel Boy http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LgwQcUhKceg

Ye Banks and Braes http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-5XG0T0NyNc

British Grenadier http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vIPgJMn8cll