The Banff and Buchan Collection

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Tape 1994.011 transcription

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01
??? two boys on the loose
A couple of pints or more
Acting the clown till one fell down
And was sick on the bar-room floor
Up went shout - Oi! throw him out
Look at the mess he's made
Up to his knees in carrots and peas
Doesn't know how to behave

Did you think I would leave you lying
When there's room on my stool for two
Climb up here, Joe, there's no denying
You'll still manage a drink or two
I can see you're a funny colour
And you say that you're feeling queer
But Joe do you remember, it's your turn to buy the beer

[Applause.]

[Laughs.]

Right, back to the serious stuff. Who's no been up?

02
Sandy Todd was the biggest chiel at ever trod this earth
He wis come o a rovin tinkie tribe fae the foreign side of Perth
He wis broad in the beam like a garage door, and I'm sure he wis nine fit three
The day he come north for a job at the ile, and tae bide next door tae me

Sandy Todd was the strongest man I'd seen in a my life
The things he could dae wi his big muckle hauns, fair mesmerised the wife
He could fire a steen as far as the meen, he could hava a tree in twa
And tae cairry the coal a ton at a time, wis jist nae bother av a
He could lift a fathom, a railway line, and bend it ower his knee
Now the wife thinks she wis thrown awa when she mairried a dreep like me

Sandy Todd wis the finest cook that ever steered a pot
He could taikle a ten course jamboree, and mastermind the lot
His beefsteak pies won a special prize is year at the Turra Show
When a certain firm sent a spy to steal the secret o his dough
But he wouldnae stoop tae tattie soup, or stovers, or potted heid
For that wis grub ye could get in a pub, wi folk o a lesser breed
His damson tart wis a work o art, at thoosans came tae see
Now the wife thinks she wis thrown awa on a useless lump like me

Sandy Todd wis the smairtest chiel that ever yet drew breath
He could ficher wi ony mortal thing, fae marzipan tae claith
He could sort a slate, or hing a gate, or alter a sliding door
He carved a statue o Robbie Burns fae wid washed up on the shore
There wisnae a job on a this earth that Sandy couldnae dae
Noo the wife thinks she's been thrown awa on a warry drag like me

Sandy Todd wis the best kent chiel this toon his ever seen
He wis fine acquaint wi the Prince o Wales, and Liz wis his name for the Queen
He expressed the hope that he would meet the Pope, again, when he went to Rome
And he telt me his country residence wis as big as the Parish home
He collie shangied wi Arab sheiks and ithers of high degree
Now the wife jist disnae ken fit wey she bides wi the likes o me

But there's been a change this day or twa, a change I think for the better
I'm expectin the bobbies doon the nicht, wi a special kind o letter
For noo its me at's the smairtest chiel at ever yet wis born
I stuck a knife in Sandy Todd, and he's buryin the morn.

[Laughs.] [Applause.]

Sandy Todd's real name will be divulged when his next of kin has been informed. [Laughs.]

03
Fit like are ye the day, says I, tae a freen I've kent since days gone by
Weel now he says, as he dra's his breath, I've been is file at the door o death
Ye min last year I took the flu, well I'm only getting the back o it noo
But it's takin a gey sair pick ye see, for I've landed noo wi a cockle ee
There's inflammation in ma jints, so I canna bend doon tae tie my pints
An if I try ma bubbly nose begins tae skite like a gairden hose
An afore I get foor tae gie it a dicht, it jist gings dry an it bungs up ticht
Sine it affects ma peer aul heid an it lies on ma shooders like a lump o leid
So ye'll see ma loon, and he stoppit for breath, jist fit it's like at the door o death
A'm bothered files wi ma watter tae. An it's twenty times a day ye see
It's nae neen handy though it's nae neen sair, but ye ken oor bathroom's up the stair. Ma bools hisnae been for a file so I doot it's back tae the caster ile
An at itsel's nae fine ye ken, for ye dinna get peace for a minute an en
It's like at works on the dot, an ah'm up at stairs like a mountain goat
An ye speir at me 'fit like'! At's feel, ye can surely see that I'm nae neen weel
There's nithin wrang wi yer sight says I, as he eyes a deem ats passin by

Thank you very much.

04, 05
Peter's going to do a wee set with Jimmy I think. [General chatter.] Right Jimmy and Peter. Let's rock and roll.

This is a new partnership really. You can sit in the small seat. That's put you right off hasn't it.

Yep, I've been drinking now.

I didn't want to play with him sober because I didn't know the beats he would use.

You can clap into this and make it sound as though a lot of people are here.

It's a jig called 'Curleycues', followed by one called 'Jump at the Sun'.

[Flute and drum. Music.]

06
Attempt this eh, this is a Fife song, don't know Fife at all, Drumfinnans, Lochore, managed to get the man with the banjo up. [General chatter.]

I hae travelled roon this country from shore to shining shore
From the swamps of Auchterderran tae the jungles o' Lochore
But in a these far-flung places there's none that can compare
Wi' the lily of Lumphinnans, she's ma bonnie Maggie Blair

She's just a Kelty clippie, she'll no tak' nae advice
It's," Ach drap deid awa' bile yer heid or Ah'll punch yer ticket twice"
Her faither's jist a waster, her mither's on the game
She's just a Kelty clippie but I love her just the same

Fae the pyramids up in Kelty tae the mansions of Glencraig
We've trod the bings together in mony's a blyth stravaig
Watched the moonlight over Crosshill, trod Buckhaven's golden sand
And mony a happy oor we spent in Lochgelly's Happy Land

She's just a Kelty clippie, she'll no tak' nae advice
It's," Ach drap deid awa' bile yer heid or Ah'll punch yer ticket twice"
Her faither's jist a waster, her mither's oan the game
She's just a Kelty clippie but I love her just the same

Well I met her on the 8.15 that nicht o' romantic bliss
I says, Hey Mag pit doon yer bag, and gie's a wee bit kiss
Well she didnae tak' that kindly, no didnae like ma chaff
Being a contrary kind of bird she said, Come oan, get aff

She's just a Kelty clippie, she'll no tak' nae advice
It's," Ach drap deid awa' bile yer heid or Ah'll punch yer ticket twice"
Her faither's jist a waster, her mither's oan the game
She's just a Kelty clippie but I love her just the same

Noo she hasnae got nae culture, aye she drives me roon' the bend
She sits every night in her auld airmchair readin' the People's Friend
Her lapels is foo o badges frae Butlins doon at Ayr
And she goes to the bingo every night wi her curlers in her hair

She's just a Kelty clippie, she'll no tak' nae advice
It's," Ach drap deid awa' bile yer heid or Ah'll punch yer ticket twice"
Her faither's jist a waster, her mither's oan the game
She's just a Kelty clippie but I love her just the same

But things are a wee bit better noo, I've gone and bocht a ring
I won it frae Jim at the pitch an' toss, last night at the Lindsay Bing
Wi' her wee black hat and her ticket machine she does ma hairt ensnare
She's the lily of Lumphinnans, she's ma bonnie Maggie Blair

She's just a Kelty clippie, she'll no tak' nae advice
It's," Ach drap deid awa' bile yer heid or Ah'll punch yer ticket twice"
Her faither's jist a waster, her mither's oan the game
She's just a Kelty clippie but I love her just the same

[Applause. Audience joins in.]

07
Right, what we're going to do then? [General chatter.] Andy, want to do a couple of songs for us aye?

Eh, what to sing eh. Erm. This is one of many versions of a song that I've heard many times. I'll try and think of a title. This is a Fairport Convention version, I got the words from a Fairport album, the song's called ? Trying to think how do I play it? I wasn't intending to play this song, I was just going to go home!

08
A holiday, a holiday, first one of the year.
Lord Daniel's wife came into church, the gospel for to hear.
And when the meeting it was done, she cast her eyes about,
And there she saw little Matty Groves, walking in the crowd.
Come home with me, little Matty Groves, come home with me tonight.
Come home with me, little Matty Groves, and sleep with me till light.

Oh, I can't come home, I won't come home and sleep with you tonight,
By the rings on your fingers I can tell you are Lord Daniel's wife.
Well if I am Lord Daniel's wife? Lord Daniel's not at home.
For he is out in the far cornfields, bringing the yearlings home.

Well a servant who was standing by hearing what was said,
He swore Lord Daniel he would know before the sun would set.
And in his hurry to carry the news, he beat his breast and ran,
Till when he came to the far mill stream, where he took off his shoes and swam.

Little Matty Groves, he lay down and took a little sleep.
He awoke, Lord Daniel he was standing at his feet.
Saying "How do you like my feather bed? And how do you like my sheets?
How do you like my lady who lies in your arms asleep?"

Oh, well I like your feather bed, well I like your sheets.
Better I like your lady wife who lies in my arms asleep.
"Well, get up, get up, get up as quick as you can!
It'll never be said in fair England that I slew a naked man."

"Oh, I can't get up, I won't get up, I can't get up for my life.
For you have two long beaten swords and I but a pocket-knife."
"Well it's true I have two beaten swords, and they cost me deep in the purse.
But you will have the better of them and I will have the worse."

"And you shall strike the very first blow, strike it like a man.
And I will strike the very next blow, and I'll kill you if I can."
Well Matty struck the very first blow, and he hurt Lord Daniel sore.
Lord Darnell struck the very next blow, and Matty struck no more.

Then up and got Lord Daniel's wife and he sat her on his knee,
Saying, "Who do you like the best of us, Matty Groves or me?"
And then up spoke his own dear wife, never heard to speak so free.
"I'd rather a kiss from my dead Matty's lips than you and your finery."

Well Lord Daniel he got up and angry he did roar,
He struck his wife through the heart and pinned her against the wall.
"Oh a grave, a grave!'' Lord Daniel cried, "to put these lovers in.
Bury my lady at the top for she was of noble kin."

[Applause.]

09
Right, this is an old ?? song that I think I first sang about twenty years ago, shows how old I am. It's a song called 'Let me down easy'.

How can I say that it's just something I heard
Oh losing you and trying to concede something's gone wrong
You're an ???? to hide
Let me down easy, baby
Be so kind and let me down slow
Let me down easy now, baby
Its so hard to let go

We are now drifting, now we are one of those still left holding the line
But the wind how it's moved you to set your sails lifting those ???
We were cut loose behind
Let me down easy baby
Be so kind and let me down slow
Let me down easy now, baby
Its so hard to let go

How can I stay here, it's just something I know deep down inside
Losing you in trying to concede its enough for me to know that you tried.
Let me down easy, baby
Be so kind and let me down slow
Let me down easy now, darlin
Its so hard to let go
Its so hard to let go

[Applause.]

10
[Fiddle and flute, guitar music.]

11, 12
Everybody can play an instrument, if they want to come up here. [General chat.]

[Accordion, drum, flute, guitar. Music plays.]

13
OK, thanks all for coming. Same time next month. First Tuesday of the month.

14
[Announcement.]

15
I'll sing a song by that traditional folk singer, Bruce Springsteen.

Born in the USA?

Close but not quite.

Early in the mornin, factory whistle blows
Man rises from bed, puts on his clothes
Man takes his lunchbox out in morning light
It's the work, the workin, just the workin life
It's the work, the workin, just the workin life

Through the mansions of beer,
Through the mansions of pain
See my daddy walkin through them factory gates in the rain
Factory takes his hearing, factory gave him life
It's the work, the workin, just the workin life
It's the work, the workin, just the workin life

At the end of the day factory whistle cries
Men walk through these gates with death in their eyes
And you just gotta believe somebody's going to get hurt tonight
It's the work, the workin, just the workin life
It's the work, the workin, just the workin life
It's the work, the workin, just the workin life

[Applause.]

16
I can tell you are in a singing mood already. It's obviously a night for catastrophes. Ramsay's not here, Peter's lost his flute, so if you care to check your pockets, especially anyone who was at Longside last night, just make sure you haven't got it in your car. So I'm afraid he'll be playing something smaller tonight I understand. Talking of which I must have had a premonition that I'd be doing the compering tonight, because I've got the baggiest trousers on I could find. Sorry about that, I shouldn't make jokes. This is a song with an even simpler chorus than the last one, and in fact it's so simple it doesn't even appear at the end of the verses. It's dedicated to three young ladies who are here tonight but I won't actually point them out because it's called 'Three Drunken Maidens', you know who you are. I'm not looking at anyone.

There were three drunken maidens came from the Isle of Wight
They drank from Monday mornin nor stopped till Saturday night
When Saturday night did come me boys, they wouldn't then go out
And these three drunken maidens they push the jug about

Then up comes bouncing Sally, her cheeks as red as a bloom
Move up me jolly sisters and give your Sally some room
For I'll be equal before that we go out
And these four drunken maidens they push the jug about

There's woodcock and pheasant, there's partridge in there
There's all sorts of dainties no scarcity was there
There's forty quarts of beer me boys, they fairly drunk em out
And these four drunken maidens they push the jug about

But up comes the landlord, he's asking for his pay
It's a forty pound bill me boys, these girls are supposed to pay
That's ten pounds a piece me boys, but still they wouldn't go out
And these four drunken maidens they push the jug about

Oh where are your feathered hats, your mantles rich and fine
They've all been swallowed up in tankards of good wine
And where are your maidenheads, your maidens brisk and gay
We left them in the ale house, we drank them clean away

[Applause.]

17
I'd forgotten the last line, it's as well I didn't mention any names really. I should say by the way that a couple of fairly mundane announcements. First of all if there is anyone here who fancies coming out to the front and giving us a song or a tune or a combination of the two or poetry, or a story, or clog dancing or what else have we had up here. If you fancy doing that just see myself or Sheila, who will reappear any moment now, thank you, just like that. And she'll put you on her little list and see that she victimises you later on. And the other thing is while there are people up here, dancing, singing or otherwise performing, a bit of hush is always appreciated [heckling]. Hoi, you're barred! It's always appreciated, not necessarily by the people at the front because they might want plenty of noise to cover them up, but by the few who actually want to listen. So a bit of hush. Especially for our next singer who specialises in quiet timid little songs. It's Sheila MacDonald. [Applause.]

18
[SMcD] I'm either very late, well just a few days late for this year or very early for next year. But I'm going to sing a Burns song for you. Everyone had plenty of haggis this year?

John Anderson, my jo, John,
When we were first acquaint
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonnie brow was brent
But noo your brow is beld, John,
Your locks are like the snaw
Oh blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson, my jo.

John Anderson, my jo, John,
We clamb the hill thegither
And mony a cantie day, John,
We've spent wi' ane anither
Now we maun totter down, John,
And hand in hand we'll go,
And we'll sleep thegither at the foot,
John Anderson, my jo.

[Applause.] Thanks for the prompt. [Laughs.]

19
Well I shoulda stuck to the ironing you see, singing that song. Right this second song is a song we were supposed to be singing as 'Premenstrual Syndrome', not with, with Peter Mike and myself. PM and Sheila. Oh he's being awfully political correct. [General chatter.] Right, anyway, it's called the Jeanie Sea, and it was written by somebody Sinclair, from yon way, as in North America. Now if I get this wrong I'll just deteriorate from now on in.

Come a ye lads draw near tae me
That I be not forsaken
For this day is lost, the Jeanie C.
And my living has been taken.

And I'll go to sea no more
We set out that day in the bright sunlight
The same as any other

No he didna, cause that's when. I'm right? So what did he do? [Laughs.] That's it. It's Morag phoning me.

We set out that day in the bright sunlight
The same as any other
And oh my god, we sure caught cod
And we noo sang and danced like fools
And I'll go to sea no more
And it's well you know what the fishing has been
It's been scarce and hard and cruel
And oh my god, we sure caught cod
And we sang and danced like fools
And I'll go to sea no more
And we'll never know what we struck that day
But strike we did like thunder
John Price gave a cry and pitched over side
Now forever he's gone under
And I'll go to sea no more
No leak I found from bow to hold
No rock it was that caught her
But what I found made my heart turn cold
For every seam poured water
And I'll go to sea no more
So come all ye lads draw near tae me
That I be not forsaken
For this day is lost, the Jeanie Sea
And my whole life has been taken
And I'll go to sea no more.

It really is a nice song if it's sung right! [Applause.]

20
Right, we haven't sung this for a while and Norrie says it's a night for this. It's safer. So everybody's got to sing, because I can't. So we'll have twenty three versions all going at once, and just give it welly.

Ah, fit'll I dae wi the herrin's heids [single singer]
Fit'll I dae wi the herrin's heids [group together]
Ah'll mak it intae loaves o bried [single singer]
Herrins heid, loaves o bried, an a sorts o things [group together]
For a the fish that swim in the sea
The herrin it is the fish for me
Fallalalido, fallalalido, fallalalido-liday

Ah, fit'll I dae wi the herrin's eyes [single singer]
Fit'll I dae wi the herrin's eyes [group together]
Ah'll mak them intae puddins and pies [single singer]
Herrins eyes, puddins and pies [group together]
Herrins heid, loaves o bried, an a sorts o things
For a the fish that swim in the sea
The herrin it is the fish for me
Fallalalido, fallalalido, fallalalido-liday

 

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