Get all 5 Lady Prudence releases available on Bandcamp and save 15%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Demeter's Daughter, Bardic Inspiration, +1 D10, At Night's End, All's Faire, and Journeys.
1. |
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My life goes on in endless song;
Above earth's lamentation,
I hear the sweet, tho' far-off hymn
That hails a new creation;
Thro' all the tumult and the strife
I hear the music ringing;
It finds an echo in my soul—
How can I keep from singing?
What tho' the tempest round me roars?
The music, still, it liveth;
What tho' the shadows gather round?
Songs in the night it giveth.
No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that rock I'm clinging;
Since Love commands both heaven and earth,
How can I keep from singing?
The peace of Song makes fresh my heart,
A fountain ever springing;
All things are mine since I am his—
How can I keep from singing?
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2. |
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'Twas on one bright March morning I bid New Orleans adieu
And I took the rode to Jackson town, me fortune to renew
I cursed all foreign money, no credit could I gain
Which filled me heart with longing for the lakes of Pontchartrain
I stepped on board of a railroad car beneath the morning sun
I rode the road 'til evening and I laid me down again
All strangers there, no friends to me, 'til her dark hair towards me came
And I fell in love with a Creole girl by the lakes of Pontchartrain
I said, "My pretty Creole girl, me money here's no good
If it weren't for yon 'gators, I'd sleep out in the wood"
"You're welcome here, kind stranger, our house, it's very plain
But we never turn a stranger out from the lakes of Pontchartrain"
She took me to her mammy's house and treated me right well
The hair upon her shoulders in jet-black ringlets fell
To try and paint her beauty, I'm sure 'twould be in vain
So handsome was my Creole girl by the lakes of Pontchartrain
And I asked her if she'd marry me, she'd said it could never be
For she had got another, and he was far at sea
She said that she would wait for him and true she would remain
'Til he returned for his Creole girl by the lakes of Pontchartrain
So fare thee well, me bonny old girl, I never will see no more
But I'll ne'er forget your kindness in the cottage by the shore
And at each social gathering a flowing glass I'll raise
And I'll drink a health to me Creole girl by the lakes of Pontchartrain
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3. |
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Oh he was a lord of high degree
And she was a lass from the low country
But she loved of his Lordship so tenderly
Oh sorrow sing sorrow
Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod
No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god
One day when the sun was on the mead
He passed by her house on a milk white steed
And she smiled and she spoke but he paid no need
Oh sorrow sing sorrow
Now she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nod
No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god
If you be a lass from the low country
Don't love of no lord of high degree
They hain't got a heart for sympathy
Oh sorrow sing sorrow
Now she sleeps in the valley where wild flowers nod
No-one knows how she loved him but herself and god
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4. |
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Chorus.-
O Whistle, an' I'll come to ye, my lad,
O whistle, an' I'll come to ye, my lad,
Tho' father an' mother an' a' should gae mad,
O whistle, an' I'll come to ye, my lad.
But tak ye great care when ye come to court me,
And stop not unless the back gate be a-jee;
Syne up the back-stile, and let naebody see,
And come as ye were na comin' to me,
And come as ye were na comin' to me.
O whistle an' I'll come, &c.
At chirch, or at market, whene'er ye see me,
Gang by me as tho' that ye car'd na a flie;
But steal me a blink o' your bonie black e'e,
Yet look as ye were na lookin' to me,
Yet look as ye were na lookin' to me.
O whistle an' I'll come, &c.
Aye vow and protest that ye care na for me,
And whiles ye away at my beauty a-wee;
But court na anither, tho' jokin' ye be,
For fear that she wile your fancy frae me,
For fear that she wile your fancy frae me.
O whistle an' I'll come, &c.
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5. |
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Near Bingham town, in the County Down
One morning last July
Down a bóithrín green came a sweet cailín
And she smiled as she passed me by.
She looked so sweet, from her two bare feet
To the sheen of her nut-brown hair
Such a winsome elf, sure I pinched myself
To be sure I was really there.
From Bantry Bay down to Derry Quay
From Galway to Dublin town
No maid I've seen like the fair cailín
That I met in the County Down.
As she onward sped sure I scratched my head
And I felt me a feeling rare
And I said, says I, to a passerby
"Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?"
He smiled at me, and he says, says he,
"She's the jewel of Ireland's crown.
Young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann
She's the star of the County Down."
From Bantry Bay down to Derry Quay
From Galway to Dublin town
No maid I've seen like the fair cailín
That I met in the County Down.
At the harvest fair she'll be surely there
and I'll dress in my Sunday clothes
With my shoes shon bright and my hat cocked right
for a smile from the nut-brown Rose
No horse I'll yoke, no pipe I'll smoke,
'til my plough is a rust-colored brown
Till a smiling bride by my own fireside
sits the star of the County Down
From Bantry Bay down to Derry Quay
From Galway to Dublin town
No maid I've seen like the fair cailín
That I met in the County Down.
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6. |
Greensleeves
05:03
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Alas my love, you do me wrong
to cast me off discourteously
For I have loved you so long,
delighting in your company!
Greensleeves was all my joy
Greensleeves was my delight
Greensleeves was my heart of gold
And who but my lady greensleeves
Alas, my love, that you should own
a heart of wonton vanity
Now must I meditate alone
Upon your insincerity
Your vows you've broken, like my heart
Oh, why did you so enrapture me?
Now I remain in a world apart
But my heart remains in captivity
[Chorus]
If you intend thus to disdain
It does the more enrapture me
And even so, I still remain
A lover in captivity
[Chorus]
I have been ready at your hand
To grant whatever you would crave
I have both wagered life and land
Your love and good-will for to have
[Chorus]
Ah, Greensleeves, now - farewell, adieu
To God I pray to prosper thee
For I remain thy lover true
Come once again and love me
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7. |
Scarborough Faire
04:58
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Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
He once was a true love of mine
Tell him to find me an acre of land
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Between the sea foam and the over the sane
Then he'll be a true love of mine
Plow the land with the horn of a ram
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Then sow some seeds from north of the Dam
Then he'll be a true love of mine
Tell him to reap it with a sickle of leather
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
And gather it all in a bunch of heather
Then he'll be a true love of mine
If he tells me he can't then I'll reply
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Let me know at least he will try
Then he'll be a true love of mine
When thou hast finished thy task
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
O come to me, my hand for to ask
Then he'll be a true love of mine
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
He once was a true love of mine
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8. |
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My young love said to me
My Mother won't mind
And me Father won't slight you
For your lack of kind
Then she stepped away from me
And this she did say
It will not be long love
'Til our wedding day.
She stepped away from me
And she moved through the Fair
And fondly I watched her
Move here and move there
And she went her way homeward
With one star awake
As the swans in the evening
Move over the lake
The people were saying
No two e'er were wed
But one has a sorrow
That never was said
And she made her way onward
With her goods and her gear
And that was the last
That I saw of my dear.
My young love came to me,
She came softly in
So softly she came, that
Her feet made no din
She laid her hand on me
And this she did say
It will not be long love
Till our wedding day.
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9. |
Sí Bheag, Sí Mhór
02:53
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(Instrumental, featuring Lute Harp)
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10. |
Siúil A Rún
03:34
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I wish I was on yonder hill
'Tis there I'd sit and cry my fill
Till every tear would turn a mill
Is go dté tú mo mhuirnín slán
I'll sell my rod, I'll sell my reel
I'll sell my only spinning wheel
To buy my love a sword of steel
Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán
Siúil, siúil, siúil a rún
Siúil go socair agus siúil go ciúin
Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom
Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán
I'll dye my petticoats, I'll dye them red
And round the world I'll beg my bread
Until my parents shall wish me dead
Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán
But now my love has gone to France
To try his fortune to advance
If he e'er comes back 'tis but a chance
Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán
Siúil, siúil, siúil a rún
Siúil go socair agus siúil go ciúin
Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom
Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán
I wish, I wish, I wish in vain
I wish I had my heart again
And vainly think I'd not complain
Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán
Siúil, siúil, siúil a rún
Siúil go socair agus siúil go ciúin
Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom
Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán
Siúil, siúil, siúil a rún
Siúil go socair agus siúil go ciúin
Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom
Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán
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11. |
The Bantry Girls' Lament
04:02
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Oh, who will plough the fields now
And who will sow the corn
And who will watch the sheep now
And have them nicely shorn
And the stack that's in the haggard
Unthreshed it may remain
Since Johnny, lovely Johnny
Went to thrashin' the king of Spain
Oh, the girls of the Banóg
In sorrow may retire
And the piper and his bellows
May go home and blow the fire
But Johnny, lovely Johnny
Went sailing o'er the main
Along with other patriots
To fight the king of Spain
At wakes and hurling matches
Your likes we'll never see
'Till you come back again to us
Mo storeen óg mo chroi [Oh brightest star of my heart]
And won't you trounce the buckeens
Who show us much disdain
Because our eyes are not as bright
As those you meet in Spain
Oh, if cruel fate should not permit
Our Johnny to return
His heavy loss we Bantry girls
Will never cease to mourn
We'll resign ourselves to our sad lot
And die in grief and pain
Since Johnny died for Ireland's pride
In the foreign land of Spain
Oh, Johnny died for Ireland's pride
in the foreign land of Spain
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12. |
The Skye Boat Song
03:26
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Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing
Onward the sailors cry.
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye
Loud the wind howls
Loud the waves roar
Thunderclaps rend the air
Baffled our foes
Stand by the shore
Follow they will not dare, O
Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing
Onward the sailors cry.
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye
Many's the lad fought on that day
Well the claymore did wield
When the night came
Silently lain
Dead on Colloden field, O
Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing
Onward the sailors cry.
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye
Though the waves heave
Soft will ye sleep
Ocean's a royal bed
Rocked in the deep
Flora will keep
Watch by your weary head, O
Burned are their homes,
Exile and Death
scatter the loyal man
Yet e'er the sword
cools in the sheath
Charlie will come again, O
Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing
Onward the sailors cry.
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye
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13. |
The Foggy Dew
04:48
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'Twas down the glen one Easter morn
To a city fair rode I
There armed lines of marching men
In squadrons passed me by
No fife did hum, no battle drum
Did sound its dread tattoo
But the Angelus bells o'er the Liffey's swell
Rang out through the foggy dew
Right proudly high over Dublin town
They hung out the flag of war
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky
Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar
When from the plains of Royal Meath
Strong men came hurrying through
While Brittania's sons with their long-range guns
Sailed in through the foggy dew
'Twas Brittania bade our wild geese go
"That small nations might be free"
Their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves
On the shores of the gray North Sea
But had they died by Pearse's side
Or fought with Cathal Brugha
Their graves we'd keep where the Fenians sleep
'Neath the hills of the foggy dew
The bravest fell, and the solemn bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide
In the springing of the year
And the world did gaze in deep amaze
At those fearless men, but few
Who bore the fight that freedom's light
Might shine through the foggy dew
'Twas back through the glen I rode again
and my heart with grief was sore
For I parted then with valiant men
Who I ne'er shall see no more
And to and fro, in my dreams, I go
And I'll kneel and say a prayer for you
For slavery fled - o Glorious Dead -
when you fell in the Foggy Dew
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14. |
Both Sides The Tweed
04:04
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What's the spring-bringing jasmine and rose?
What's the summer with all its gay train
Or the splendour of autumn to those
Who've bartered their freedom for gain?
Let the love of our land's sacred rights
To the love of our people succeed
Let friendship and honour unite
And flourish on both sides the Tweed.
No sweetness the senses can cheer
Which corruption and bribery bind
No brightness that gloom can e'er clear
For honour's the sum of the mind
Let the love of our land's sacred rights
To the love of our people succeed
Let friendship and honour unite
And flourish on both sides the Tweed.
Let virtue distinguish the brave
Place riches in lowest degree
Think them poorest who can be a slave
Them richest who dare to be free
Let the love of our land's sacred rights
To the love of our people succeed
Let friendship and honour unite
And flourish on both sides the Tweed.
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15. |
Hidden Track - If I Were
02:07
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If I were a poet, I would write a sonnet
It would say I love you, your name would be on it
If I were a farmer, I'd give you a bunny
If I had a beehive, you would get free honey
Fa la la, la la la la, la la la la la, la la la la la
Fa la la, la la la, la la, la la la, la la
If I were a baker, you could have a cruller
If I were a painter, choose your favorite color
If I had some diamonds, I’d give you a few
Anything to show you how much I love you
Fa la la, la la la la, la la la la la, la la la la la
Fa la la, la la la, la la, la la la, la la
Did you guess my secret? I am not a poet
Couldn't write a sonnet, and I think you know it
I am not a farmer, can't give you a bunny
I don’t have a beehive, sorry 'bout the honey
Fa la la, la la la la, la la la la la, la la la la la
Fa la la, la la la, la la, la la la, la la
I am not a baker, don't know bread from batter
And I'm not a painter, and it doesn't matter
I don't a present, all I have to do
Is look at you to show you how much I love you
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Lady Prudence Aiken, South Carolina
Lady Prudence, The Court Composer, appears at Renaissance Festivals around the country to play and sing for patrons of all ages. Come find her at the Arizona, Scarborough, New York, and Carolina Renaissance Festivals!
Lady Prudence recommends:
The Voices of Virtue
by The Voices of Virtue
The debut album of the Voices of Virtue, a sweet and sassy selection of Renaissance favorites!
go to album
Presents!
by The Voices of Virtue
The Voices of Virtue present: Presents! A collection of Lilly and Prudence's favorite Christmas songs.
go to album
Support Your Girls
by The Angels: Heroines in Disguise
The Angels, Heroines in Disguise, were kind enough to let Lady Prudence flex her inner hero, and add her voice to their PG-rated album. Lady Pru remains intrigued by the contents of the other album.
go to albumIf you like Lady Prudence, you may also like:
featured on Bandcamp Radio Mar 29, 2022
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Scottish harpist and singer Rachel Newton brings an innovative, intensely emotional touch to traditional music on this dreamy LP.
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