The Foggy Foggy Dew

“The Foggy Foggy Dew” is an English folk song describing the outcome of an affair between a weaver and a young lady he courted. Burl Ives made a version of it popular in the 1940s. He spent the night in jail for singing it in Mona, Utah where authorities deemed it a bawdy song.
It is No.558 in the Roud Folk Song Index.
Lyrics:
[G] When I was a [Am] bachelor, I liv’d all alone
[D] I worked at the weaver’s [G] trade
And the only, only thing that [Am] I ever did wrong
[D] Was to woo a fair young [G] maid.
[D] I wooed her in the [G] wintertime
[D] And in the summer, [G] too
And the only, only [Em] thing that I [Am] did that was wrong
Was to [D] keep her from the foggy, foggy [G] dew.

One night she came to my bedside
When I was fast asleep.
She laid her head upon my bed
And she began to weep.
She sighed, she cried, she damn near died
She said what shall I do?
So I hauled her into bed and covered up her head
Just to keep her from the foggy foggy dew.

So, I am a bachelor, I live with my son
And we work at the weaver’s trade.
And every single time that I look into his eyes
He reminds me of that fair young maid.
He reminds me of the wintertime
And of the summer, too,
And of the many, many times that I held her in my arms
Just to keep her from the foggy, foggy, dew.

The Bonnie Banks o’ Loch Lomond

A Favorite Scottish Ballad (Roud No. 9598) based on a Jacobite lament written after the Battle of Culloden following the 1745 uprising.
Lyrics:
Guitar tuned down to D.

[G] By yon bonnie [Em] banks and by [Am] yon bonnie [C] braes,
[G] Where the sun shines [Em] bright on Loch [C] Lomon’. [D]
[Em] where me and my true love [Am] were ever wont to [C] go
[G] On the bonnie, bonnie [Em] banks o’ Loch [D] Lomon’. [G]

Chorus: [G] O ye’ll tak’ the [Em] high road and [Am] I’ll tak the [C] low road,
[G] An’ I’ll be in [Em] Scotland [C] afore [D] ye;
[Em] But me and my true love will [Am] never meet [C] again
[G] On the bonnie, bonnie [Em] banks o’ Loch [D] Lomon’. [G]

[G] ‘Twas there that we [Em] parted in [Am] yon shady [C] glen,
[G] On the steep, steep [Em] side o’ [C] Ben Lomon’, [D]
[Em] Where in purple hue the [Am] Hieland hills we [C] view,
[G] An’ the moon [Em] comin’ out in the [D] gloamin’. [G]

Chorus: [G] O ye’ll tak’ the [Em] high road and [Am] I’ll tak the [C] low road,
[G] An’ I’ll be in [Em] Scotland [C] afore [D] ye;
[Em] But me and my true love will [Am] never meet [C] again
[G] On the bonnie, bonnie [Em] banks o’ Loch [D] Lomon’. [G]

[G] The wee birdies [Em] sing and the [Am] wild flow’rs [C] spring,
[G] And in sunshine the [Em] waters are [C] sleepin’; [D]
[Em] But the broken heart it [Am] kens no second [C] spring,
[G] Tho’ the woeful may [Em] cease from their [D] greetin’ [G]

Chorus: [G] O ye’ll tak’ the [Em] high road and [Am] I’ll tak the [C] low road,
[G] An’ I’ll be in [Em] Scotland [C] afore [D] ye;
[Em] But me and my true love will [Am] never meet [C] again
[G] On the bonnie, bonnie[Em] banks o’ Loch [D] Lomon’. [G]

My Rose In June

Old English Ballad first collected in Dorset England in 1905
Lyrics:
CAPO on 3rd fret
[Em] Was down in the valleys, the [D] valleys so [Em] deep,
To pick some plain roses to keep my [D] love [Em] sweet.
[G] So let it come early, [D] late or [Em] soon,
I will enjoy my [D] rose in [Em] June.
[G] rose in June, [D] rose in [Em] June
I will enjoy my [D] rose in [Em] June.

O, the roses red, the violets blue,
Carnations sweet, love and so are you,
So let it come early, late or soon,
I will enjoy my rose in June.
rose in June, rose in June
I will enjoy my rose in June.

O love, I will carry thy sweet milking pail,
O love, I will kiss you on every stile
So let it come early, late or soon,
I will enjoy my rose in June.
rose in June, rose in June
I will enjoy my rose in June.

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Scarborough Faire


This is a traditional English song

Lyrics:

[Em] Are you going to [D] Scarborough [Em] Faire?
Parsley, [C] sage, [D] rosemary and [Bm] thyme.
[Em] Remember [D] me to [Bm] one who lived [Bm] there.
[Em] She once [D] was a [Bm] true love of [Em] mine.

Have her make me a cambric shirt
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.
Without no seams, nor fine needle work.
Then she’ll be a true love of mine.

Love imposes impossible tasks
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Though not more than any heart asks.
And I must know she’s true love of mine

When thou has finished thy task.
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Come to me my hand for to ask.
For then you’ll be a true love of mine

Cupid’s Garden


This traditional song (Roud 297) is about an 18th century tea garden located on the south side of the River Thames in London. It was named after Abraham Boydell Cuper. It became known as “Cupid’s Garden because of the questionable morals of its visitors and as a result, lost its licence in 1736.

Lyrics:

[G] ‘Twas down in Cupid’s [D] Garden I [C] wandered for to [D] view
[G] The sweet and lovely [D] flowers [C] that in the [D] garden [G] grew,
[G] And one it was sweet [D] jasmin, the [C] lily, pink and [D] rose;
[G] They are the finest [D] flowers [C] that in the [D] garden [G] grow
[C] that in the [D] garden [G] grow.

I had not been in the garden but scarcely half an hour,
When I beheld two maidens, sat under a shady bower,
And one it was sweet Nancy, so beautiful and fair,
The other was a virgin and did the laurels wear
and did the laurels wear.

I boldly stepped up to them and unto them did say,
“Are you engaged to any young man, come tell to me, I pray?”
“No, I’m not engaged to any young man, I solemnly declare;
I mean to stay a virgin and still the laurels wear”
and still the laurels wear.

So, hand in hand together, this loving couple went;
To view the secrets of her heart was the sailor’s full intent,
Or whether she would slight him while he to the wars did go.
Her answer was, “Not I, my love, for I love a sailor bold”
for I love a sailor bold.

It’s down in Portsmouth Harbour, there’s a ship lies waiting there;
Tomorrow to the seas I’ll go, let the wind blow high or fair.
And, if I should live to return again, how happy I should be
With you, my love, my own true love, sitting smiling on my knee
sitting smiling on my knee.

Deep Blue Sea


These lyrics can be found in many traditional songs. They may be from an old English ballad. The tune suggests West Indian origin. In any case it’s a woman who has lost her loved one to the sea and hopes he will return.

Lyrics:

[G] Deep [C] Blue [G] Sea, Baby, [C] Deep Blue [G] Sea
[G] Deep [C] Blue [G] Sea, Baby, [Am] Deep Blue [D] Sea
[G] Deep [C] Blue [G] Sea, Baby, [C] Deep Blue [G] Sea
It was [Em] Willy [G] what got [Em] drowned in the [G] Deep [D] Blue [G] Sea

Dig his grave with a silver spade (3x)

It was Willy what got drowned in the Deep Blue Sea

Lower him down with a golden chain (3x)

It was Willy what got drowned in the Deep Blue Sea

Wrap him up with a silken shroud (3x)

It was Willy what got drowned in the Deep Blue Sea

Deep Blue Sea, Baby, Deep Blue Sea (3x)

It was Willy what got drowned in the Deep Blue Sea

The Belle of Belfast City


This is a well known children’s song from the 19th century. It is in the Roud Folk Song Index as number 2649. It’s been collected in various parts of England and Ireland. When sung in Northern Ireland it’s known as “The Belle of Belfast City.” There is a game associated with this song. Children form a ring by joining hands while one child stands in the middle. When asked “Please tell me who they be?” The child in the middle gives the name or initials of a child in the ring and after the rest of the lyrics are sung the named child goes in the middle.

Lyrics:
[G] I’ll tell my ma [C] when I get home,
[G] The boys won’t leave [D] the girls alone
[G] They pull my hair and [C] stole my comb
[D] But that’s all right [G] till I go home

[G] She is handsome, [C] she is pretty,
[G] She is the Belle of [D] Belfast city
[G] She is a courtin’ [C] one, two, three,
[D] Please won’t you tell me [G] who is she

Albert Mooney says he loves her,
All the boys are fightin’ for her
Knock at the door and ring at the bell,
Saying oh my true love, are you well

Out she comes as white as snow,
Rings on her fingers, bells on her toes
Ould Johnny Morrissey says she’ll die
If she doesn’t get the fella with the roving eye

Let the wind and the rain and the hail blow high
And the snow come travellin’ through the sky
She’s as sweet as apple pie,
She’ll get her own lad by and by

When she gets a lad of her own
She won’t tell her ma when she gets home
Let them all come as they will
For it’s Albert Mooney she loves still

The Blackest Crow


Possibly a 17th century English broadside that made its way to North America. Found in the Appalachian and Ozark mountains. A bittersweet ballad of love and loss.

Lyrics:
[D] As time draws [C] near my [G] dearest dear when you and I must [Em] part[D]
How little you [C] know of the [G] grief and woe in my poor aching [Em] heart[G]
Each night I suffer for your sake, you’re the [C] girl I [G] love so [Em] dear[D]
I wish that [C] I was [G] going with you or you were staying [Em] here

[D] The blackest [C] crow that [G] ever flew would surely turn to [Em] white[D]
If ever [C] I prove [G] false to you  bright day will turn to [Em] night
[G] Bright day will turn to night my love, [C] the ele [G] ments will [Em] mourn[D]
If ever [C] I  prove [G] false to you the seas will rage and [Em] burn[D]

And when you’re [C] on some [G] distant shore think of your absent [Em] friend[D]
And when the [C] wind blows [G] high and clear a light to me pray [Em] send[G]
And when the wind blows high and clear [C] pray send [G] your love to [Em] me[D]
That I might [C] know by [G] your hand wright how time has gone with [Em] thee

[D] As time draws [C] near my [G] dearest dear when you and I must [Em] part[D]
How little you [C] know of the [G] grief and woe in my poor aching [Em] heart[G]
Each night I suffer for your sake, you’re the [C] girl I [G] love so [Em] dear[D]
I wish that [C] I was [G] going with you or you were staying [Em] here

Cold Rain and Snow


The Cold Rain and Snow is a traditional folk song which is included in Cecil Sharp’s book English Folk Songs from the Southern Appalachians, as sung in 1916 by Mrs. Tom Rice. It was also performed live in the 60s by bluegrass groups such as Bill Monroe’s and Del McCoury’s.

Lyrics:
[Gm] Well I married me a wife
She give me trouble all my life
Ran me out in the [F] cold [Gm] rain and snow
Rain and snow, [F] rain and snow
[Gm] Ran me out in the [F] cold [Gm] rain and snow

She come a running on down the stairs
Combing back her long yellow hair
And her cheeks were as red as a rose
As a rose, as a rose
And her cheeks were as red as a rose

Well she went up to her room where she sang her faithful tune
I’m goin where them chilly winds don`t blow
Winds don`t blow, winds don`t blow
I’m goin where them chilly winds don`t blow

I see her sitting in the shade
Counting every dime I’ve made
I’m so broke and I am hungry too
Hungry too, hungry too
I’m so broke and I am hungry too
I’m so broke and I am hungry too

I done everything I could do
Just to get along with you
I ain’t a-gonna be treated this way
This way this way
I ain’t a-gonna be treated this way

The Ash Grove


The Ash Grove is a 19th century Welsh folk song the tune of which has been set to many different lyrics including hymns and Christmas carols.

At age 17 my first professional show was at Ed Pearl’s Ash Grove folk music club at 8162 Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles. The venue was named after this song.

I recorded the RCA LP “Tonight in Person” with the Limeliters there in July of 1960. I had my 18th birthday in the club and the servers brought me a cupcake with a candle. It’s a sweet memory!

Lyrics:
[G] Down yonder green valley, where [Am] streamlets [D] meander,
When [G] twilight is [C] fading I [D] pensively [G] rove
Or at the bright noontide in [Am] solitude [D] wander,
[G] Amid the dark [C] shades of the [D] lonely [G] ash grove;
‘T was there, while the blackbird [Am] was cheerfully singing,
[G] I first met that dear one, [A] the joy of my [D] heart!
[G] Around us for gladness the [Am] bluebells were [D] ringing,
[G] Ah! then little [C] thought I how [D] soon we should [G] part.

Still glows the bright sunshine o’er valley and mountain,
Still warbles the blackbird its note from the tree;
Still trembles the moonbeam on streamlet and fountain,
But what are the beauties of nature to me?
With sorrow, deep sorrow, my bosom is laden,
All day I go mourning in search of my love;
Ye echoes, oh, tell me, where is the sweet maiden?
“She sleeps, ‘neath the green turf down by the ash grove.”

Repeat First Verse