The photos are of the Hampshire Downs (hills and breed of sheep).
If you’ve not been here before you can read about this web site and SongShepherd by looking at About. I’m away in Hampshire for the next seven days or so, but do make yourself at home. Help yourself to any of the songs – there are hundreds on the menus above – and a lot more that you can come across by arrowing through from wherever you happen to be, not to mention tunes & stories. Clicking on a mosaic pic while you listen makes them larger. You can arrow through them too. Have a nice time.
PEEBLES, A SMALL TOWN AND RESORT ON THE RIVER TWEED, SCOTTISH BORDERS. PIC: P.TOMKINS/VisitScotland/SCOTTISH VIEWPOINT Tel: +44 (0) 131 622 7174 Fax: +44 (0) 131 622 7175 E-Mail : firstname.lastname@example.org This photograph can not be used without prior permission from Scottish Viewpoint.
The photos are of the Scottish borders. You can click a mosaic pic to see it larger and arrow through them all while you listen to the song.
The old music halls, the ’60s folk clubs and the modern ‘sessions’, pictured here, all began life in pubs. The folk clubs and the sessions have largely stayed there. It seems to be their natural home. (And now, thank goodness, smoke-free.)
Fuddling Day was one of the earliest songs in my professional repertory. The serious subject is mitigated by the cheery tune and good chorus that had audiences joining in enthusiastically, which was very encouraging for a novice folk singer. I could have done with having some audience participation on this recording.
I’ve completely forgotten where or when I came upon this ‘night-visiting’ song which I recorded in 2010 for the album The Gardener. It’s very old indeed and retains just a hint of the original supernatural element.
Some English country gardens and some from further afield in Prince Edward Island and Vermont. The traditional song, which is from the album The Gardener (see menu 2), originated in Scotland, but like the gardens the story is widespread over many countries, gathering subtle variations as it passed from one person to another.
I was singing this traditional song in all innocence at a folk club in the 70s when in came a group of young people who sat down in the back row. They got up and left at the end of the song, which was not the usual reaction to my singing, and when my set was over I asked the club organiser who they were. “Oh,” he said, “just some French students here for the week.” I was sorry not to have done better for international relations than sing them a song of an episode that took place 600 years ago, but which obviously still rankled.
The superb painting of Henry V is by SallyGypsyPunk at DeviantArt.