To Devon - and beyond! (recorded Spring 2020)

by Alan Courtney

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.

    Please note this album will cost you nothing to stream or download. However I would encourage you to make a small donation to St Richard's Hospice  - https://www.strichards.org.uk/donate/ - if you download this album.
    Purchasable with gift card

      name your price

     

1.
The hungry forties is our time their harvests poor our crops are thin Us farmers lads like this young Tom we feel the hurt within No future on the land for me though I is strong and I am brave No brother can my burden share no ties left here my life to save Its drudgery for me, the Union and a pauper’s grave No more I’ll see the sparkling sun rise up over the moor No more I’ll see the salmon run in Torridge and in Taw My spirit once so free now bound by Master Surman’s law The Northam women said she’d fall said she had no will at all All the men would stand and stare gazing at her long dark hair Then all on one dreadful day although to her own god she prayed She found that she was great with child found her mother so reviled Her wilful Emma so much so that she told her to go No more she’ll spend my days out beside the harbour view No more she’ll see the trawler lads or watch the lifeboat crew Her hair cut short, her face once brown now wears the workhouse hue Now Brother Fulford lent a hand condemned the Union and its ways Condemned how wicked Surman made his inmates there to pay He knew ships to Prince Edwards Isle sailed out from Appledore He paid for Tom and Emma’s passage out aboard the Baltimore They sailed out and they would see their native shore no more They spend their days on fertile land no longer lost and poor Like many from North Devon who had sailed out there before And plough the land and build the ships beside Prince Edwards shore
2.
Cider makers 03:42
In fields down to the river On the heaving orchard boughs In mounds beneath in garnered heaps The crimson apples flame By the farmer and his horses In the last light of the day The crimson tide is gathered up In woven horse hair grey And the tide of life is turning Where the grinding presses run By a patient blindfold pony In the light of the setting sun With the carts now deep and harvest full To Townstal home again To where the presses grip and crush And the juice in rivers flows Long into the dark of night The faithful pony turns In slow and placid circles As the golden liquid churns And the tide of life is turning Where the grinding presses run By a patient blindfold pony In the light of the setting sun On their polished elm in rays of light Stand carved on the timber frame The names of pals who went to France But won’t come back again When at last the weary beams are still The cider amber bright They drink and they remember Deep into the starry nights And the tide of life is turning Where the grinding presses run By a patient blindfold pony In the light of the setting sun Red eye sun in low November And the boughs are bright with frost Vault doors fast put home long since And the pony is at rest
3.
4.
Whitlock Smerdon come from t’other side of Hameldon He courted Sibley Shillingford and how they loved each other A steady and a kindly love her simple heart had won Like two halves of a flail they were - one nought without t’other. Whitlock knew the hour had come her father for to face He’d learned his lines fair word for word the night before he came To Blackslade where the master sat the table for to grace Where 7 generations there had held the title claim Mr Shillingford he said I’ve got a startler here for you Humble as a worm I stand before you on your land But I will uplift myself as all true lovers do For I have a fierce and fearful love to drive on my demand I’d be proud as a turkey cock to ‘ave your daughter's hand That scratches in the farmyard dust and struts his head held high I’m cruel poor but I’ll work hard to earn her wedding band I ban’t of much account I know but I will be by and by I’ll make her such a husband as is not known in this land Except for tales in story books and songs the choir do sing This love I have for her will move the tors come presently If twill only move you first to give consent to me Twas just then that his daughter ran into her father’s arms She was on his breast so instantly her hair across his face Oh father dear I love him for his kindness and his charms I pray you’ll let me ‘ave him for no-one can take his place A kindly but a proud man old Shillingford was he He lived his life so righteously all Webburn men could see He said to Whitlock now there young man although you speak so free An honest, fair and loving man I’m certain that you be ‘E gave consent and they rejoiced, and married they’ll be soon And news of their betrothal spread across the vale by noon And as these two lovers stood contented arm in arm A sunset smile lit up the whitewashed face of Blackslade farm.
5.
Henry Brown 04:16
1. There’s an old house at the corner just beyond the Rose and Crown There’s a low wall all around it you can see And now the gate is rusty and it’s almost broken down And the little bit of garden’s full of weeds And standing in his slippers in the shadow of the door There is an old man there called Henry Brown Ch. And you wouldn’t think to look at him that he was once well known You wouldn’t see him if he passed you on the street You wouldn’t think that he was once the hero of renown But some folks still remember Henry Brown 2. It was in the height of winter over 50 years ago A gale blew from east on to the shore The fishing boats and trawlers all tied up along the quay The waves crashed 50 feet above the wall The people in the cottages there were huddled round their fires Waiting for the day to come around 3. There really was no warning – no shout, no light or bell To tell them that a nightmare had begun The wall was breached down by the shore the sea was in the street There was nothing that the people could have done And all in that dreadful night so many people might have drowned But a score or more were saved by Henry Brown Ch 4. And all throughout the bitter night he fought against the tide And all night the raging sea denied Cradling the women and the children that he found And carrying them up to the higher ground He didn’t stop his work until the day at last came round And the sea receded from the broken land And every year round Hallsands when November comes around And the gale blows from the east so wild and free And the gannets and the gulls are driven hard against the cliffs And the boiling waves blow spume across the Ley The people raise their glasses all remembering the time When their lives were saved that night by Henry Brown
6.
Seasons 03:32
From Hartland Quay we watch the summer sun go down all pink and gold The curlew’s startled cry around us as they rise up from their fold Come with me my true companion Wherever that we roam Walk together onward home At the seasons turn, at the seasons turn The river by the old black bridge all autumn brown and raging free Watching all the spreading water over meadows over lea From Winsford Hill we watch the valley in the chill of winter morn Filled with mist, a rolling blanket, hear the birds of early dawn In Orleigh wood the spring is coming, green of bud and shoot and spur Promise of the year around us, feeling all our hopes return
7.
'Twas on an April morning, just as the sun was rising, 'Twas on an April morning, I heard the small birds sing. They were singing Lovely Nancy, For love it is a fancy And sweet were the notes that I heard the small birds sing. They were singing Lovely Nancy, For love it is a fancy And sweet were the notes that I heard the small birds sing. Young men are false and are full of all deceiving; Young men are false and they seldom will prove true. For they're roving and their ranging Their hearts are always changing, Seeking to find out some other girl that's new. Young men don't you spend all your long long time in courting? Young men don't you spend all your long long time in vain. For I don't intend to marry, I'd rather longer tarry. So young man, don't you spend all your long long time in vain. O if I had but my own heart in keeping O if I had but my own heart back again Safe in this breast I'd tether And I'd lock it there forever And pray it would never stray far from me again. 'Twas on an April's morning, just as the sun was rising, 'Twas on an April's morning, I heard the small birds sing. They were singing Lovely Nancy, For love it is our fancy And sweet were the notes that I heard the small birds sing. They were singing Lovely Nancy, For love it is our fancy And sweet were the notes that I heard the small birds sing.
8.
There came three men from out of the west their victory to try And they have taken a solemn vow John Barleycorn should die They took a plough and ploughed him in, and harrowed clods on his head And then they took a solemn vow John Barleycorn was dead There he lay sleeping in the ground til rain from the sky did fall Then Barleycorn he sprung up his head and he soon amazed them all There he remained till midsummer and looked both pale and wan Then Barleycorn he got a beard and he soon amazed them all Then they sent men with scythes so sharp they cut him off down by the knee And so poor little Barleycorn they served him barbarously Then they sent men with pitchforks strong to pierce him through the heart And like a dreadful tragedy they bound him to a cart And then they brought him to a barn a prisoner to endure And soon they fetched him out again and laid him on the floor And they sent men with the holly clubs to beat him flesh from bones But the miller he served him worse than that for he ground him between two stones Oh Barleycorn is the chiefest grain the was ever sown on land It will do mare than any grain by the turning of your hand It will make a boy into a man and a man into an ass It will change your gold to silver and your silver into brass It will make the huntsman hunt the fox that never wound his horn It’ll bring the tinker to the stocks the little Barleycorn It’ll make the maids stark naked dance as they were ever born It will help them get a job by chance this little barleycorn
9.
10.
Angel Hill 04:18
A sailor came walking down Angel Hill He knocked on my door with a right good will With a right good will he knocked on my door And he said "My dear friend, we have met before" No never said I He searched my eye with his sea blue stare Laughed out loud on the cold Cornish air On the Cornish air he laughed aloud And he said my dear friend you have grown too proud No never said I In war we swallowed the bitter Bread, drank of the brine the sailor said We took of the bread and we tasted the brine And I bound your wounds as you bound mine No never said I By day and night on the diving sea We whistled the sun and the moon said he Together we whistled to moon and sun And vowed that our stars should be as one No never said I No never said I Now he said that the war is past Come to your heart and home at last Come to your home and heart to share Whatever good fortune waits for me there No never said I I have no wife nor son he said No pillow on which for to make my head No pillow abide, no wife, nor son Till you shall give to me my own No never said I His eye it flashed like a lightning dart And still as a stone it stirred my heart A heart like a granite stone was still And he said my dear friend but I think you will No never said I The sailor smiled, turned in his track Shifted the bundle all up on his back And I heard him sing as he strolled away You'll send in your fetch for me, one fine day No never said I No never said I
11.
When Shakespeare wrote you sang the song I still hear And when Eliza reigned your linted locks Flashed where they flash today among the rocks And showered their tresses twined into the brown pool clear The bear it lapped your waters on his rounds The stricken elk beside you dropped at last A flint in his shoulder thrust home deep and fast To smear your emerald moss in red of wounds And there were children in your lap beside The early men of stone whose lodges stand Like mushroom circles high up on the land Above the cotton grass that made your cradle wide Their ruins sink below now; foxglove springs Above the roofless hut and smelting place No more the shadows fall upon your face Or medieval chimes of pick and hammer rings You danced and flung your foam upon the fern And sang along your green and granite ways Even as now, in far off summer days When toiled the Tinner man beside your your heathery urn Where once the silver wolf pack hunting went Their cries unearthly through the snowy nights Now driven roads cut through the moorland heights Your peace destroyed just as the earth is rent But the days are quiet now your banks around Your gentle murmuring and birdsong sound Is all we hear beside the waving ferns Times flow full circle in these closed down days
12.
Cousin Jack 05:08
This land is barren and broken, Scarred like the face of the moon Our tongue is no longer spoken And the Towns all a-round face ruin Will there be work in New Brunswick? Will I find gold in the Cape? If I tunnel way down to Australia Oh will I ever escape. Where there's a mine or a hole in the ground That's what I'm heading for that's where I'm bound So look for me under the lode and inside the vain, Where the copper the clay the arsenic and tin Run in your blood and under your skin I'll leave the county behind I'm not coming back Oh follow me down cousin Jack. The soil was to poor to make Eden, Granite and sea left no choice Though visions of heaven sustained us, When John Wesley gave us a voice Did Joseph once come to St Michaels Mount Two thousand years pass in a dream When you're working your way in the darkness, Deep in the heart of the seam. Where there's a mine or a hole in the ground That's what I'm heading for that's where I'm bound So look for me under the lode and inside the vain, Where the copper the clay the arsenic and tin Run in your blood and under your skin I'll leave the county behind I'm not coming back Oh follow me down cousin Jack. I dream of a bridge on the Tamar It opens us up to the East And the English they live in our houses The Spanish fish in these seas
13.
Who's that knocking at the window? Who's that standing at the door? What are all those presents laying on the kitchen floor? Who is the laughing stranger with his hair as white as gin? What is he doing with the children? Who could have let him in? Why has he rubies on his fingers? Gold crown on his head. Why when he caws his carol Does the salty snow run red? Why does he ferry my fireside As a spider on a thread, His fingers made of fuses And his tongue of gingerbread? Why does the world before him Melt in a million suns, Why do his yellow, yearning eyes Burn like saffron buns? Watch where he comes walking Out of the Christmas flame, Dancing, double-talking: And Herod is his name.
14.
Come farmer lads and lasses all and listen unto me Theres fun alike for great and small with me you must agree Why should the farmer hand his head when he ought to wear a smile We’ll sing and shout the harvest bread that feeds Great Britain’s Isle Then its all among the farmers the harvest home we’ll cry I can plough and sow and reap and mow for a country lad am I They say there’s something in the wind now mark you what I say The farmer’s men refuse to work for 18 pence a day If you don’t mind what you’re about they’ll toddle bye and bye You’ll have to plough the lands yourself and that will ope your eye Then its all among the farmers the harvest home we’ll cry I can plough and sow and reap and mow for a country lad am I Now farmers keep your spirits up before it gets too late The young folk they will marry soon and then will emigrate If you don’t raise their wages soon they mean to do the grand In a great big they’ll emigrate out to a foreign land Then its all among the farmers the harvest home we’ll cry I can plough and sow and reap and mow for a country lad am I Then Master Henry has to throw aside his dog and gun To hedge and ditch no matter which he will find that no fun No more at the piano will Emily sit and scream She’ll the to milk the cows herself and likewise skim the cream Then its all among the farmers the harvest home we’ll cry I can plough and sow and reap and mow for a country lad am I Look at the price of everything the farm produces now With mutton and beef don’t soil your teeth but just look on the cow And bear in mind if farmers grind they’ll soon be left alone With help from the state to emigrate each man will farm his own Then its all among the farmers the harvest home we’ll cry I can plough and sow and reap and mow for a country lad am I
15.
In the hollows on the blacklands snow was lying until May The young folks they have nothing left up there to make them stay The first frosts of the autumntide they won’t be far away Their crops be bad, their corn sells low, their bills they cannot pay There’s nort here in North Devon for the husbandmen to do Their children they are hungry and their pleasures they are few And the shadow of the Workhouse hangs upon them every day Although they love our country they are forced to sail away But when there’s a full sou’ wester and ees blowing strong and free When they see the Lundy lighthouse playing out across the sea And the swallows in the rawdage sing of springtime on its way It’ll tell them if they come home there’s a welcome here for they When us old men we were young we built the warships for the fleet With timber that our own ships brought from far across the sea A hundred vessels rose up all along the Torridge strand Built by our own sweat and toil with hammers in our hand But now the war is over and the hammers have grown cold There’s no longer any work here and the yards they have been sold Our shipwrights they are leaving too off to Prince Edwards shore In Canada were Devon men are building ships once more But when there’s a full sou’ wester and ees blowing strong and free When they see the Lundy lighthouse playing out across the sea And the swallows in the rawdage sing of springtime on its way It’ll tell them if they come home there’s a welcome here for they Those of us who are staying behind we’re all along the quay 5000 strong we’re watching as the three ships head for sea And our lads and lasses there on board to leave they are resigned To cross the raging ocean for a better life to find Now it is just us old folks left back here to spend our days Watching out to sea as for their safety we do pray We keep a candle in our windows as we look out from the shore And we pray the day will come when they’ll return once more And when there’s a full sou’ wester and ees blowing strong and free When they see the Lundy lighthouse playing out across the sea While the swallows in the rawdage sing of springtime on its way It’ll tell em that if they come home there’s a welcome here for they
16.
Me and my mate we set out on the moor From Scorriton right up to Sourton Tor Past Poundsgate and Widecombe, our way we found Up over Hameldon down through Grimspound And then as sun it went down in the west We knew we were done we had given our best Although we were 16 we thought it no sin To find our way into the Warren House Inn The 5 pints of cider that we put away Were causing the walls of the bar for to sway We picked ourselves up and went out the back And found a few beers there to fill up our sack We found that the mist on the moor had come down And made us pitch our tent on uneven ground To trip on the guy ropes it was no disgrace Cos you couldn't see your hand in front of your face Early next morning our heads they felt dire There was plenty of groaning as we lit the fire Bacon and baked beans was our breakfast choice When outside of our tent we heard a loud voice Its Dartmoor police here are you lads alright? Be assured I do not mean to give you a fright But a man has escaped from the Princetown Mens Club And we think that he nicked a few beers from this pub! He’s out on the moor He’s out on the moor That’s why we’re searching the cleaves and the tors For its the mad axemen that we’re looking for Frank Mitchell is out on the moor Now this man Frank Mitchell he likes robbing banks He’s mean and he’s nasty, he’s built like a tank Extortion and torture are his stock in trade The screws let him run free cos they are afraid In case that he finds you and follows your tracks I think that i ought to tell you this fact The book that he frequently reads to relax Is “101 Things To Do With an Axe”! He’s out on the moor He’s out on the moor That’s why we’re searching the cleaves and the tors For its the mad axemen that we’re looking for Frank Mitchell is out on the moor We got rid of the empties and stood by the Cross To make the long wait for the bus to come past In the ghostly old mist there as it swirled around We feared there a mad axeman’s face would be found We vowed that we’d never drink cider no more We’d nick no more beers from the Warren House store And we vowed to ourselves we would never no more Take the long route from Scorriton to Sourton Tor…
17.
The Old Road 04:02
How short the road with you my friend, How short the road with you The tors and vales, the heights and dales And each unfolding view For side by side and foot by foot Though long that summer noon The twilight fell too soon my friend The twilight fell too soon Oh the twilight fell too soon How far the road alone my friend How far the road alone The tors how steep the dales how deep Their ancient magic flown For now the way together trod You cannot tread again In sunshine or in rain my friend In sunshine or in rain Nor In sunshine or in rain Still winds the patient road my friend Still winds the patient road Whereon I go, now high, now low With my appointed load And glories shared I felt were gone For ever when you passed Have brought you back at last my friend Have brought you back at last They have brought you back at last.

about

This is my 2nd album dedicated to my home county of Devon, with 8 songs I've written about people, places and historical events of significance to me - eg the mass emigration from North Devon from 1820 to 1850; cider making on my grandfather's farm at Dartmouth; and Dartmoor life in days gone by as described in Eden Philpott's Widecombe Fair. There's also a fine poem written by my granddaughter Isobel. The remaining 7 are well known songs - 4 from Devon and 3 from Cornwall - where my family strayed for a while from Devon - hence the beyond!
My versions of Jacky Tar and John Barleycorn are adapted from versions collected a few miles from where my great grandfather lived. 2 of the Cornwall songs are Charles Causley poems, and Cousin Jack is by the incomparable Steve Knightley.

All songs and music by Alan Courtney, who sang and played acoustic and electric guitars, mandolin, bass and keyboards.

credits

released May 23, 2020

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Alan Courtney England, UK

I've decided to collect here all my solo recordings from 2002 onwards, when I left my job and started to work for myself.

I was born and raised in Devon, but have lived the last 40 years in Malvern. I've played folk music in clubs, sessions, festivals etc since the age of 15.
I played in rock n blues, then folk bands Malthouse Passage and Set em up Joe. I've recorded many albums showcased here
... more

contact / help

Contact Alan Courtney

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Report this album or account

If you like Alan Courtney, you may also like: