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Description
When I was growing up my parents were never into folk music (my dad's a jazz musician) but they did have a copy of The Penguin Book of English Folk Songs and that's where I first found this song and took a special liking to it. I couldn't sight-read music well enough to work out any of the melodies from the book so I just used to imagine what the songs sounded like.
Thirty years later I still can't sight-read but I have now found out how the tune goes.
I've been lucky enough to have the assistance of two fine collaborators on this track. Stevel plays delightful psychey-electric guitars to supplement my twanging and Komrade K weaves his unique fiddle magic. I'm very grateful to them both for their sublime musicianship and for the encouragement they've given me.
For old times' sake I've used the words from The Penguin Book of English Folk Songs, although it's only one of a great many different versions ... I especially love the defiant final verse, which is missing from some versions.
The death penalty may seem a bit extreme for livestock theft ... but for many centuries in England that was the norm. Particularly with wild deer because they were the property of the king, and any offence against the king was classed as high treason. In these progressive times you'd probably get away with a thirty quid fine and an ASBO.
One thing I did discover back then as I read through that book was that most English folk songs are either about death or sex (or imaginative combinations of the two). So it's no surprise that in Scottish versions of Geordie the girl successfully wins him a reprieve and they happily ride off together into the sunset. It's only in this miserable English version that the poor bloke gets it.
Rebsie: vocals, 12-string acoustic guitar
Steve: electric guitar, 6-string acoustic guitar
Martyn: electric fiddle
© 2007 Rebsie Fairholm/Martyn Kember-Smith/Steve Lang
Words and music traditional, arranged by Rebsie, Martyn and Steve.
Thirty years later I still can't sight-read but I have now found out how the tune goes.
I've been lucky enough to have the assistance of two fine collaborators on this track. Stevel plays delightful psychey-electric guitars to supplement my twanging and Komrade K weaves his unique fiddle magic. I'm very grateful to them both for their sublime musicianship and for the encouragement they've given me.
For old times' sake I've used the words from The Penguin Book of English Folk Songs, although it's only one of a great many different versions ... I especially love the defiant final verse, which is missing from some versions.
The death penalty may seem a bit extreme for livestock theft ... but for many centuries in England that was the norm. Particularly with wild deer because they were the property of the king, and any offence against the king was classed as high treason. In these progressive times you'd probably get away with a thirty quid fine and an ASBO.
One thing I did discover back then as I read through that book was that most English folk songs are either about death or sex (or imaginative combinations of the two). So it's no surprise that in Scottish versions of Geordie the girl successfully wins him a reprieve and they happily ride off together into the sunset. It's only in this miserable English version that the poor bloke gets it.
Rebsie: vocals, 12-string acoustic guitar
Steve: electric guitar, 6-string acoustic guitar
Martyn: electric fiddle
© 2007 Rebsie Fairholm/Martyn Kember-Smith/Steve Lang
Words and music traditional, arranged by Rebsie, Martyn and Steve.
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Lyrics
As I went over London Bridge
One misty morning early
I overheard a fair pretty maid
Lamenting for her Geordie
Come bridle me my milk white horse
Come bridle me my pony
That I may ride to London's court
To plead for the life of Geordie
And when she entered in the hall
There was lords and ladies plenty
Down on her bended knees she fell
To plead for the life of Geordie
Oh Geordie stole no cow nor calf
Nor sheep he never stole any
But he stole sixteen of the king's wild deer
And sold them in Bohenny
The judge looked over his left shoulder
And said I'm sorry for thee
My fair pretty maid, you've come too late
For he's condemned already
Let Geordie hang in golden chains
Such chains as never was any
Because he came of the royal blood
And courted a virtuous lady
I wish I was in yonder grove
Where times I have been many
With my broad sword and pistol too
I'd fight for the life of Geordie
One misty morning early
I overheard a fair pretty maid
Lamenting for her Geordie
Come bridle me my milk white horse
Come bridle me my pony
That I may ride to London's court
To plead for the life of Geordie
And when she entered in the hall
There was lords and ladies plenty
Down on her bended knees she fell
To plead for the life of Geordie
Oh Geordie stole no cow nor calf
Nor sheep he never stole any
But he stole sixteen of the king's wild deer
And sold them in Bohenny
The judge looked over his left shoulder
And said I'm sorry for thee
My fair pretty maid, you've come too late
For he's condemned already
Let Geordie hang in golden chains
Such chains as never was any
Because he came of the royal blood
And courted a virtuous lady
I wish I was in yonder grove
Where times I have been many
With my broad sword and pistol too
I'd fight for the life of Geordie
Tom Atwood
if I could. Lovely.