Andrew Ford: Barleycorn

Andrew Ford (b. 1957)

Barleycorn (2006)

For folksinger, oboe (doubling cor anglais), clarinet (doubling bass clarinet), bassoon, French horn and piano

1. Good Ale
2. When Jones’s Ale Was New
3. The Drinking Boy
4. The Song of the Alpini
5. Carrickfergus
6. John Barleycorn

All the songs that form the basis of this piece are traditional, both the tunes and the words, and all the words are (more or less) about beer.

‘Good Ale’ is from the singing of the Copper Family of Rottingdean in Sussex. ‘When Jones’ Ale Was New’ is, likewise, in the Coppers’ repertoire, though the variant used here was collected by Warren Fahey in Australia. ‘The Drinking Boy’ is from Ostrobothnia in the west of Finland and was shown me by my wife Anni Heino.‘The Song of the Alpini’ from Northern Italy was brought to my attention by Renato Vecchies who describes it as a ‘dark, cruel song’, which it certainly is.

I couldn’t make a piece entirely from cheerful drinking songs, and so ‘Carrickfergus’, likewise, is equally dark, though not so cruel. I suppose you might say it is the emotional heart of the piece. ‘John Barleycorn’ is a famous song that exists in many parts of the English-speaking world, in many versions and with many different tunes (I have heard at least five). In some versions, the three men who came out of the west are ‘kings’ coming from the ‘east’, an odd conflation of the song with the Christmas story that seems to equate the invention of beer with the birth of Jesus.

The tune I chose for ‘John Barleycorn’ I first heard on Steeleye Span’s record, Below the Salt. It’s origins appear to be in the realm of the Morris dance, and I like the way the tune seems oblivious to the violent acts described by the words.

Barleycorn was composed for the Southern Cross Soloists to play with folksingers Warren Fahey and Dave de Hugard, and is dedicated to the memory of that grand old man of English folk song, Bob Copper. It was written between January and May 2006 while its composer was the recipient of a fellowship from the Music Fund of the Australia Council, the Australian
government’s arts advisory and funding organisation.

Cheers!

Song texts and translations

Barleycorn Good Ale (English) It is of good ale to you I'll sing And to good ale I'll always cling, I like my mug filled to the brim And I'll drink all you'd like to bring. O, good ale, thou art my darling, Thou art my joy both night and morning. It is you that helps me with my work And from a task I'll never shirk While I can get a good home-brew, And better than one pint I like two. O, good ale, etc. I love you in the early morn I love you in daylight dark or dawn, And when I'm weary, worn or spent I turn the tap and ease the vent. O, good ale, etc. It's you that makes my friends my foes, It's you that makes me wear old clothes, But since you come so near my nose It's up you comes and down you goes. O, good ale, etc. You have caused me debts and I've often swore That I never would drink strong ale no more, But you for all that I forgive And I'll drink strong ale just as long as I live. O, good ale, etc.
When Jones's Ale Was New (Australian) There were three jovial fellows Went over the hills together, Went over the hills together, To have a jolly good spree. They flung themselves down upon the ground And each man swore he’d spend a pound, And they’d have glasses all around, When Jones’s ale was new, my boys, When Jones’s ale was new. Chorus So they called for more pots, and more pints and more glasses, And didn’t they all get tight as asses, And, oh! What fun they had with the lasses, When Jones’s ale was new, my boys, When Jones’s ale was new. The first to come in was a tinker, Good lord, he was no drinker, Good lord, he was no drinker, To join this jovial crew. He said have you any old pots or kettles to settle, My tongs are made of the best of metal; Good lord, his hammer and tongs did rattle, When Jones’s ale was new, my boys, When Jones’s ale was new. Oh! the next to come in was a mason, With his hammer and chisel to face them, With his hammer and chisel to face them, To join this jovial crew. He flung his old hammer against the wall, And swore that churches and chapels might fall, And that would give work to masons all, When Jones’s ale was new, my boys, When Jones’s ale was new. The next to come in was a barber, Who swore he came from Scarboro’, Who swore he came from Scarboro’, To join this jovial crew. He flung his old razor against the wall, And swore that maids would shave and all, And that would give work to the barbers all, When Jones’s ale was new, my boys, When Jones’s ale was new.
The Drinking Boy (Finnish)
Juomaripoijan hevonen se seisoo joka kapakalla, joka kapakalla, juomaripoijan hevonen se seisoo joka kapakalla. Mitäpä se tekee juomaripoika heilannapakalla, heilannapakalla, mitäpä se tekee juomaripoika heilannapakalla? Juomaripoijan hevonen se seisoo aina ilman heinii, aina ilman heinii, juomaripoijan hevonen se seisoo aina ilman heinii. Ja juomaripoika itse kapakassa silittelee seinii, silittelee seinii, juomaripoika itse kapakassa silittelee seinii. Juomaripoijan hevonen se seisoo aina ilman lointa, aina ilman lointa, juomaripoijan hevonen se seisoo aina ilman lointa. Ja juomaripoika se juomisen jälkeen on aina ilman tointa, aina ilman tointa, juomaripoika se juomisen jälkeen on aina ilman tointa. Mitäpä se tekee juomaripoika taloss' emännällä, taloss' emännällä, mitäpä se tekee juomaripoika taloss' emännällä? Kun ottaa piian ja maksaa palkan niin pääsee vähemmällä, pääsee vähemmällä, kun ottaa piian ja maksaa palkan, niin pääsee vähemmällä.	A drinking boy’s horse stands by each and every pub, by each and every pub, A drinking boy’s horse stands by each and every pub. And what would a drinking boy do with a pretty little girl, a pretty little girl, And what would a drinking boy do with a pretty little girl? A drinking boy’s horse stands always without hay, always without hay, A drinking boy’s horse stands always without hay. And the drinking boy himself, inside the pub, he is stroking the walls, stroking the walls, Drinking boy himself, inside the pub, he is stroking the walls. A drinking boy’s horse stands always without a blanket, always without a blanket, A drinking boy’s horse stands always without a blanket. And the drinking boy, after drinking, he is always without a job, is always without a job, Drinking boy, after drinking, is always without a job. What kind of use would a drinking boy have for a mistress in his house, for a mistress in his house, what kind of use would a drinking boy have, for a mistress in his house? If you hire a maid and pay her wages, you get by with much less fuss, get by with much less fuss, if you hire a maid and pay her wages, you get by with much less fuss.
The Song of the Alpini (Italian)
Di qua e di là del Piave ci sta un'osteria, Là c'è da bere e da mangiare e un buon letto da riposar. E dopo aver mangiato, mangiato e ben bevuto, Ohi, bella mora se vuoi venire, quest'è l'ora di far l'amor. Mi si che vegnaria, per una volta sola, solo ti prego lasciami sola che son figlia da maritar. Se sei da maritare dovevi dirlo prima. Or che sei stata coi veci alpini non sei figlia da maritar.	Here and there along the river Piave there is a pub where one can eat and drink And have a good rest. Then, after eating, eating and drinking well, Oh, my lovely brunette if you would like to come here, This is the time to make love. I would like to come to you, but only this once, then I beg of you to leave me alone As I am of marriageable age. If you were intending to wed You should have said so before. Now that you've been with the old Alpini You're not the sort of girl anyone marries.
Carrickfergus (Irish) I wish I was in Carrickfergus, Only for nights in Bally Grand, I would swim over the deepest ocean, The deepest ocean, to be by your side. But the sea is wide, and I can't swim over, Neither have I wings to fly. I wish I had a handy boatman, To ferry me over to my love and die. My childhood days bring back sad reflections Of happy times there long ago. My boyhood friends and my own relations Have passed away like melting snow. So I've spent my days in endless roving, Soft was the grass and my bed was free. But I wish I was in Carrickfergus, On the long road down to the salty sea. And in Kilkenny it is reported On Marble stone as black as ink With gold and silver I would support her. But I'll sing no more till I get a drink. For I'm drunk again and I'm seldom sober, A handsome rover from town to town. Ah, but I am sick now, and my days are numbered, So come all ye young men and lay me down.
John Barleycorn (English) There were three men, came out of the west, Their fortunes for to try. And these three men made a solemn vow: John Barleycorn must die! They ploughed, they sowed, they harrowed him in, Threw clods upon his head, And these three men made a solemn vow: John Barleycorn was dead. They let him lie for a long long time, Till the rains from heaven did fall. Then little Sir John sprang up his head And so amazed them all. They let him lie till the Midsummer’s day, Till he looked both pale and wan. Then little Sir John he grew a long beard And so became a man. They hired men with their scythes so sharp. To cut him off at the knee, They rolled and tied him around the waist, And served him barbarously. They hired men with their sharp pitchforks To prick him to the heart. But the loader he has served him worse than that, For he’s bound him to the cart. They’ve wheeled him ’round and around the field, Till they've come onto a barn. And there they've made their solemn oath, On poor John Barleycorn. They've hired men with the crab tree sticks To split him, skin from bones, But the miller has served him worse than that For he's ground him between two stones. Here's Little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl And brandy in the glass But Little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl's Proved the stronger man at last For the huntsman, he can’t hunt the fox, Nor loudly blow his horn; And the tinker he can’t mend his pots Without a little of Barleycorn, Without John Barleycorn.