Fairport Convention - Tipplers Tales (2007) by Fairport Convention (보컬) on maniadb.com

Oh, ye mariners all, as you pass by
Call in and drink if you are dry
Come spend, my lads, your money brisk
And pop your nose in a jug of this
Oh, ye mariners all, if you've half a crown
You're welcome all for to sit down
Come spend, my lads, your money brisk
And pop your nose in a jug of this
Oh, ye gentlemen all, as you pass by
Call in and drink if you are dry
Call in and drink, think naught amiss
And pop your nose in a jug of this
And now I'm old and can scarcely drawl
Have an old grey beard and a head that's bald
Fell my desire, fulfil my bliss
A pretty girl and a jug of this
Oh, when I'm in my grave and dead
And all my sorrows are past and fled
Transform me then into a fish
And let me swim in a jug of this
Oh, ye mariners all, as you pass by
Call in and drink if you are dry
Come spend, my lads, your money brisk
And pop your nose in a jug of this

There were three drunken maidens, lived on the Isle of Wight
They drank from Monday morning, didn't stop till Saturday night
When Saturday night came round, my boys, the girlies wouldn't go out
These three drunken maidens kept pushing the jug about
Then in comes bouncing Sally with a face as red as a bloom
"Move up, my jolly sisters, and give your Sally some room
For I'll be your equal before the night is out"
So now four drunken maidens they pushed the jug about
There was woodcock and pheasant, partridge and hare
And every kind of pie, my boys, no scarcity was there
They'd forty quarts of beer all told, they fairly drunk it up
These four drunken maidens who pushed the jug about
Then in comes the landlord and he's looking for his pay
"I've a bill for forty nicker that you lot have got to pay"
They hadn't got the money and still they wouldn't go out
These four drunken maidens kept pushing the jug about
Now where are your feathered hats, your mantles crisp and fine?
"They've all been swallowed up, my boys, in tankards of good wine"
And where are your maidenheads, you maids so brisk and gay?
"We left them in the public house, we drank them clean away"

Jack O'Rion was the finest fiddler ever fiddled on the string
He could drive young ladies wild with a tune his wires would sing
He could fiddle the fish out of salt water, water from a marble stone
Or milk from out a maiden's breast though baby she had none
There he played in the castle hall and there he played them fast asleep
Except it was for the young countess who, for love, she stayed awake
So first he played her a slow air and then he played it brisk and gay
And oh, dear love, behind her glove, this lady she did say
"Ere the day has dawned and the cocks have crowed and flapped their wings so wide
It's you must come to my chamber there and lie down by my side"
So he wrapped his fiddle in a cloth of green and he stole out on his a-tip-a-toe
And he's off back to his young boy Tom as fast as he could go
"Ere the day has dawned and the cocks have crowed and flapped their wings so wide
I'm bid to go to the lady's door and stretch out by her side"
"Lie down, lie down, my good master, here's a blanket to your hand
And I'll waken you in as good a time as any cock in this land"
Now Tom took the fiddle into his hand, he fiddled and he played for a full hour
Until he played him fast asleep; he's off to the lady's bower
And when he came to her chamber door, he twirled softly at the pin
The lady, true to her promise, rose up and let him in
He did not take that lady gay to bolster nor to bed
But down upon the hard cold floor right soon he had her laid
And he did not kiss her when he came nor yet but from her he did go
But in out the lady's bedroom window, the moon like a coal did glow
"Ragged are your stockings, love, and stubbly is your cheek and chin
And tousled is that yellow hair that I saw yestereve"
"These stockings belong to my boy Tom, they were the first came to my hand
The wind must have tousled my yellow hair and I rode over the land"
Now Tom took the fiddle into his hand, he fiddled and he played so saucily
He's off back to his master's house as fast as go could he
"Wake up, wake up, oh my good master, why snore you there so loud?
There's not a cock in all this land but has clapped his wings and crowed"
Jack O'Rion took the fiddle into his hand and he fiddled and he played so merrily
He's off away to the lady's house as fast as go could he
And when he came to the lady's door, he twirled so softly at the pin
Saying "Oh, my dear, it's your true love, rise up and let me in"
She said "Surely you didn't leave behind a golden brooch nor a velvet glove
Or are you returning back again to taste more of my love?"
Jack O'Rion, he swore a bloody oath, by oak, by ash, by bitter thorn
"Lady, I never was in your house since the day that I was born"
"Oh, then it was your young boy Tom that cruelly has beguiled me"
"Oh woe, that the blood of that ruffian boy did spring in my body"
Jack O'Rion sped off to his own house, saying "Tom, my boy, come here to me"
He hung him from his own gatepost, high as a willow tree

Ye gentlemen of high renown, come listen unto me
That takes delight in fox hunting by every degree
A story I will tell to you, concerning of a fox
Near royston woods and mountains high and over stony rocks
Bold Reynard, being in his hole and hearing of these hounds
Which made him for to prick up his ears and tread upon the ground
"Methinks me hears some jubal hounds a-pressing upon the life
Before that they should come to me, I'll tread upon the ground"
We hunted for four hours or more through parishes sixteen
We hunted for four hours or more and came by Parkworth Green
"Oh, if you'll only spare my life, I promise and fulfil
To touch no more your feathered fowl or lambs on yonder hill"
Bold Reynard, spent and out of breath and treading on this ground
Thinking he must give up his life before these jubal hounds
"So here's adieu to ducks and geese, likewise to lambs also"
They've got poor Reynard by the slabs and will not let them go

She's a lady of pleasure, she's a lady of joy
And she has no illusions of grandeur
You can get what you want when your money's up front
She's a sailor-lad's port in a storm
A sailor-lad's port in a storm
To some she's a sweetheart, to some she's a whore
And to others she's there to come home to
Well, she knows the score 'cos she's done it all before
Just knock and she'll open the door
Knock and she'll open the door
"Oh, where are you going, my fine feathered friend?
Have you someone to sleep with tonight?
If you're willing to pay, you'll have somewhere to stay
I've a nice place a short haul away
It's only a short haul away"
There's some makes it easy, there's some makes it hard
And there's some try to keep it a secret
But she's there on the tide, she's just out for a ride
And you know she's got nothing to hide
Nothing at all to hide
'Cos she's a lady of pleasure, she's a lady of joy
And she has no illusions of grandeur
You can get what you want when your money's up front
She's a sailor-lad's port in a storm
A sailor-lad's port in a storm

There were three men come out of the west, their fortunes for to try
And these three men made a solemn vow, John Barleycorn would die
They've ploughed, they've sown, they've harrowed, thrown clods upon his head
Till these three men were satisfied John Barleycorn was dead
(Chorus)
There's beer all in the barrel and brandy in the glass
But little Sir John, with his nut-brown bowl, proved the strongest man at last
They've let him lie for a long long time till the rains from heaven did fall
And little Sir John sprang up his head and so amazed them all
They've let him stand till midsummer's day and he looks both pale and wan
Then little Sir John's grown a long long beard and so become a man
(Chorus)
(Chorus)
They've hired men with the sharp-edged scythes to cut him off at the knee
They've rolled him and tied him around the waist, treated him most barbarously
They've hired men with the sharp-edged forks to prick him to the heart
And the loader has served him worse than that for he's bound him to the cart
So they've wheeled him around and around the field till they've come unto a barn
And here they've kept their solemn word concerning Barleycorn
They've hired men with the crabtree sticks to split him skin from bone
And the miller has served him worse than that for he's ground him between two stones
(Chorus)
(Chorus)
And the huntsman he can't hunt the fox nor loudly blow his horn
And the tinker he can't mend his pots without John Barleycorn