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Hatching Hares

by Anna Tam

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1.
Brigg Fair 03:17
It was on the fifth of August, the weather fair and fine, Unto Brigg Fair I did repair; for love I was inclined. I got up with the lark in the morning, my heart so full of glee, Expecting there to meet my dear; long time I wished to see. I looked over my left shoulder to see whom I could see, And there I spied my own true love come tripping down to me. I took her by the lily-white hand, oh merry was my heart, And now we’re met together I hope we ne’er shall part. For it’s meeting is a pleasure, love, and parting is a grief, But an unconstant lover is worse than any thief. For the green leaves they shall wither and the branches they will die, If ever I prove false to her, the girl that loves me.
2.
Lovely Joan 02:27
A fine young man it was indeed, He was mounted on his milk-white steed. He rode, he rode, himself all alone Until he came to lovely Joan. “Good morning to you, pretty maid.” And “Twice good morning, sir,” she said. He gave her a wink, she rolled her eye. Says he to himself, “I’ll be there by and by.” “Oh, don’t you think these pooks of hay A pretty place for us to play? So come with me like a sweet young thing, And I will give you my golden ring.” Then he pulled off his ring of gold, “My pretty little miss, do this behold, I’d freely give it for your maidenhead.” And her cheeks they blushed like the roses red. “Give me that ring unto my hand And I will neither stay nor stand. For this would do more good to me Than twenty maidenheads,” said she. And as he made for the pooks of hay, She leapt on his horse and tore away. He called, he called, but it was in vain, Young Joan she never looked back again. She didn’t think herself quite safe No not till she came to her true love’s gate. She’d robbed him of his horse and ring And left him to rage in the meadows green.
3.
4.
Oh the snow it melts the soonest when the winds begin to sing; And the corn it ripens fastest when the frost is setting in; And when a young man tells me that my face he’ll soon forget, Before we part, I wad a crown, he’d be fain to follow it yet. Oh the snow it melts the soonest when the winds begin to sing; And the swallow skims without a thought as long as it is spring; But when spring blows, and winter goes, my love then you’d be fain, With all your pride, to follow me, were’t cross the stormy main. Oh the snow it melts the soonest when the winds begin to sing; And the bee that flew when summer shone in winter cannot sting. I’ve seen a young man’s anger melt between the night and morn, And it’s surely not a harder thing to tame a young man’s scorn. So never say me farewell here, no farewell I’ll receive, For you shall meet me at the style, and kiss and take your leave; And I’ll wait here‚ ’til the woodcock crows and the martlet takes its wing, For the snow it melts the soonest when the winds begin to sing.
5.
A wealthy farmer lived in our town He was a man of great renown He had one daughter, a beauty bright And she alone was his heart’s delight Many men from far to court her came But none of them her favour gained, Till a local lad of low degree Fell in her arms and she loved he. But when her father came to hear He fifty miles sent her from her dear That she should there so long remain Till she had chang’d her mind again. One night as she lay in her room, Her lover appeared from out the gloom. He touched her hand and to her did say, “Arise my darling and come away.” ‘Twas with this young man she got on behind And they rode swifter than any wind. They rode on for an hour or more Till he cries, “My darling, my head feels sore!” Her Holland handkerchief she then took out And bound his aching head about. She kissed his lips and to him did say, “My love, you‘re colder than any clay!” When they arrived at her father‘s gate “Get down, get down love, the hour is late! Get down, love, get down and go to bed I’ll see this gallant horse is groomed and fed.”
6.
7.
I never really fell in love till I went up to Fakenham Fair And I chanced for to meet with a carnival girl a-selling the fortunes there. Tried for a lamp or a Spanish shawl or a golden filigree, But all the while her eyes were saying, “Oh! Come take a chance on me.” So swing around the merry-go-round, Give the wheel of fortune a whirl, For the finest prize at Fakenham Fair Is the pretty carnival girl. Her eyes were blue, her hair ‘twas brown and her lips they were soft and red, And a shape like her’s I ne’er had seen and my eyes, well, they popped out my head. Though I was young and innocent but still even I could see That the way she laughed as she winked my way said,“Come take a chance on me.” The old folks said, “She ain’t for you, oh, what will the old people think?” But I took my chance and I won that girl just as soon as an eye could wink. And the very best day in all my life, whatever comes to pass, Was the day that I went up to Fakenham Fair and won me a carnival lass.
8.
’S iomadh rud a chunna’ mi, ’s iomadh rud a rinn mi, ’S iomadh rud a chunna’ mi a-muigh air feadh na h-oidhche, ’S iomadh rud a chunna’ mi, ’s iomadh rud a rinn mi, ’Siomadh rud a chunna’ mi a-muigh air feadh na h-oidhche. Chunna’ mi na piseagan, na piseagan, na piseagan, Chunna’ mi na piseagan air spiris Mac an t-Saighdeir Chunna’ mi na piseagan, na piseagan, na piseagan Chunna’ mi na piseagan air spiris Mac an t-Saighdeir Chunna’ mi na cudaigean, na cudaigean, na cudaigean Chunna’ mi na cudaigean a’ cluich air Allt na Muilne Chunna’ mi na cudaigean, na cudaigean, na cudaigean Chunna’ mi na cudaigean a’ cluich air Allt na Muilne I’ve seen many things, I’ve done many things, I’ve seen many things, out all night I saw the kittens, the kittens, the kittens, I saw the kittens on the Soldier’s son’s roost I saw the cuddies, the cuddies, the cuddies I saw the the cuddies play on the Allt na Muilne river
9.
Oh there was a woman and she lived on her own She slaved on her own and she skivvied on her own She’d two little girls and two little boys And she lived all alone but for her husband For her husband he was a hunk of a man A chunk of a man and a drunk of a man He was a hunk of a drunk and skunk of a man Such a boozing bruising bully of a husband For he would come home drunk each night He thrashed her black and he thrashed her white He thrashed her to within an inch of her life Then he slept like a log did her husband One night she gathered her tears all round her shame She thought of the bruising and cried with the pain Oh you’ll not do that ever again I won’t live anymore with a drunken husband But as he lay and snored in bed A strange old thought came into her head She went for the needle, went for the thread And went straight in to her sleeping husband And she started to stitch with a girlish thrill With a woman’s heart and a seamstress’ skill She bibbed and tucked with an iron will All around her sleeping husband Oh the top sheet, the bottom sheet too The blanket stitched to the mattress through She stitched and stitched for the whole night through Then waited till dawn and her husband When her husband woke with a pain in his head He found that he couldn’t move in bed Sweet Christ, I’ve lost the use of my legs But she just sat and smiled at her husband For in her hand she held the frying pan With a flutter in her heart she’d given him a lam He could not move and he cried, God damn Don’t you swear, she cries to her husband Then she thrashed him black, she thrashed him blue With the frying pan and the colander too With the rolling pin just a stroke or two Such a battered and repenting husband And she says, if you come home drunk any more I’ll stitch you in and I’ll thrash you more Then I’ll pack my bag and be out the door I’ll not live with a drunken husband Oh isn’t it true what a woman can do With a thread and a thought and a stitch or two He’s wiped his slate and his boozing’s through She don’t live anymore with a drunken husband
10.
I wish I were where Helen lies! For night and day on me she cries; I wish I were where Helen lies, On fair Kirkconnell Lea! Curst be the heart, that thought the thought, Curst be the hand, that fired the shot, When in my arms burd Helen dropt, To die for love o’ me. O think na ye my heart was sair, To see her lie and speak nae mair. There she did swoon wi’ mickle care, On fair Kirkconnell Lea. I lighted down, my sword did draw, I hacked him in pieces sma, I hacked him in pieces sma, For her that died for me. O Helen fair, beyond compare! I’ll make a garland of thy hair, ‘Twill bind my heart forever mair, Until the day I dee. I wish my grave was growing green, A winding sheet drawn o’er my een, And I in Helen’s arms was lain, Wha died for love o’ me. O Helen fair! O Helen chaste! If I were with thee I were blest, Where thou lies low, and takes thy rest, On fair Kirconnell Lea. I wish I were where Helen lies! For night and day on me she cries; Out of my bed she bids me rise, Saying, “Haste, and come to me!”
11.
12.
When I was a little girl to London I did go, But now I’ve turned a roguish blade my courage it will show. My feet was on the table, see, my head was hanging down, And I jumped over Kingston’s Hill and never touched the ground, With my tooral laddy, whack fol laddy, tooral looral ling. I bought myself a little bull about three inches high; The people all admired me, it’s for to hear him cry. The people all admired me for he made such an awful sound, He made the steeple of St Paul‘s Church come tumbling to the ground With my tooral laddy, whack fol laddy, tooral looral ling. I bought myself a flock of sheep and most of them were wethers; Sometimes they brought me fine wool, sometimes they brought me feathers. They were as fine a flock, see, as anyone could posses, For every month or six weeks time they brought six lambs apiece, With my tooral laddy, whack fol laddy, tooral looral ling. I bought myself a little hen and of her I took great care; I set her on a mussel shell and she hatched me out a hare. The hare grew up a milk white steed about eigh- teen yards high, And if anyone tells you a bigger story I’ll tell you it’s a bloody lie. With my tooral laddy, whack fol laddy, tooral looral ling. I bought myself a little box about three acres square; I stowed it in my breeches pocket, the guineas they were there. Now the people all admired me, thanked me for what I’d done, And they gave me a portion of silver and gold about ten thousand ton, With my tooral laddy, whack fol laddy, tooral looral ling.
13.
14.
O Leeze me on my spinnin’ wheel, And leeze me on my rock and reel; Frae tap to tae that cleeds me bien, And haps me fiel and warm at e’en; I’ll set me down and sing and spin, While laigh descends the simmer sun, Blest wi’ content, and milk and meal, O leeze me on my spinnin’ wheel. On ilka hand the burnies trot, And meet below my thackit cot; The scented birk and hawthorn white, Across the pool their arms unite, Alike to screen the birdie‘s nest, And little fishes callor rest; The sun blinks kindly in the biel, Where blythe I turn my spinnin’ wheel. On lofty aiks the cushats wail, And Echo cons the doolfu’ tale; The lintwhites in the hazel braes, Delighted, rival ither’s lays; The craik amang the claver hay, The pairtrick whirring o’er the ley, The swallow jinkin’ round my shiel, Amuse me at my spinnin’ wheel. Wi’ sma’ to sell, and less to buy, Aboon distress, below envy, O wha wad leave this humble state, For a’ the pride of a’ the great? Wi’ a’ their flairing, idle toys, Wi’ a’ their glitt’ring dinsome joys, Can they the peace and pleasure feel Of Bessy at her spinnin’ wheel? rock = distaff tap to tae = top to toe cleeds = clothes ilka = each burnies = streams birk = birch callor = cool craik = corn crake (bird) paitrick = partridge
15.

about

New Album released 10 June 2022!

1 Brigg Fair 3:19
2 Lovely Joan 2:29
3 Sleep Soond Ida Mornin 1:57
4 The Snow It Melts The Soonest 3:21
5 Holland Handkerchief 5:38
6 Polska Fran Östra Rd – Polska Ur Andreas Dahlgrens Notbok 3:23
7 Fakenham Fair 2:27
8 ‘S Iomadh Rud A Chunna’ Mi 2:29
9 A Stitch In Time 2:43
10 Helen of Kirkconnell 4:51
11 Planxty Irwin 3:59
12 When I Was A Little Girl 210
13 St Martin’s Waltz 3:36
14 Bess And Her Spinning Wheel 2:50
15 Thanksgiving Waltz 1:57

The second album from folk singer and multi-instrumentalist Anna Tam following on from 2021’s Anchoress. Anna has been shortlisted by Fatea as ‘Instrumentalist of the Year’ in both 2020 and 2021. She gives traditional British songs her own loving personal twist, sings with a ‘gin pure’ voice and performs on cello, nyckelharpa, viola da gamba, hurdy gurdy and piano.

‘The string playing on Let No Man Steal Your Thyme is of another dimension… Anna Tam is a find’ Irish Music Magazine

‘striking vocals… a distinctive and welcome solo debut’ Songlines Magazine

‘a ghostly set of British traditionals… nyckelharpas and hurdy-gurdys give her endeavours a necessary heave of grit.’ The Guardian

‘where minimal instrumentation and perfectly judged vocals come beautifully and dramatically together’ RnR Magazine

‘an extraordinary vocal performance’ Folking

Hatching Hares was written whilst we’re coming out of isolation; daring to hope and starting to have a little fun again. There are more people in the songs than in Anchoress. They interact, grieve, fall in love, go to the fair, sew, spin, steal, joke, die and sober up. The title comes from the fourth verse of When I Was A Little Girl: ‘I bought myself a little hen and of her I took great care, I set her on a mussel shell and she hatched me out a hare.’ Instrumentally it includes the piano on my boat as well as viola da gamba, nyckelharpa, cello and hurdy gurdy and welcomes two special guests – fiddler Geoffrey Irwin (also on Anchoress) and electronic sound artist srah who worked with samples of my singing and playing on the ghost song Holland Handkerchief. There are ten songs and five tunes: two self written waltzes and the rest traditional. The rep was trialled and explored on my weekly YouTube series Folk from the Boat.

credits

released June 10, 2022

ANNA TAM voice, nyckelharpa, cello,
viola da gamba, hurdy gurdy, piano
GEOFFREY IRWIN fiddle (10, 11)
srah – percussion and sound production (5)
Tracks 12 and 15 written by Anna Tam,
all songs & tunes arranged by Anna Tam

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about

Anna Tam London, UK

Singer and multi-instrumentalist Anna Tam gives traditional British songs her own loving personal twist. She sings with a clear bright voice and accompanies herself on a selection of traditional and historical string instruments including the nyckelharpa, viola da gamba, hurdy gurdy, lyre, cello, piano and whatever else she can find. ... more

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