Pig007 "Choice Company" - Pig's Ear's 4th CD album released 2002

Track List

Released 1st December 2002, "Choice Company" is Pig's Ear's 4th studio album recorded at Zero One studios, aided and abetted by "Koz" Cosnett.

1. Follow me up to Carlow (Trad)
2. White Owl (Maria Cunningham)
3. Ashburton Summer Show (Sue Rule)
4. Fhir a Bata (Trad)
5. The Unquiet Grave (Trad)
6. The Fall and Rise of Cousin John (Keith Rule)
7. Flash Company (Trad)
8. Sally Free and Easy (Cyril Tawney)
9. The Reluctant Mariner (Keith Rule)
10. Dainty Davie (Robert Burns)
11. Twa Corbies (Trad)
12. The Juice of the Barley (Liam Clancy)
13. John Robyns (Sue Rule)
14. Fare Thee Well Enniskillen (Tommy Makem)
15. The Last Hunt (Sue Rule)
16. We Will Sing! (Keith Rule)

All tracks arranged and performed by Pig's Ear

One evening in October, when I was one-third sober,
An’ taking home a load with manly pride;
My poor feet began to stutter, so I lay down in the gutter,
And a pig came up an’ lay down by my side;
Then we sang “It’s all fair weather when good fellows get together”,
Till a lady passing by was heard to say:
“You can tell a man who boozes by the company he chooses”
And the pig got up and slowly walked away.
Benjamin Hapgood Burt, 1933

Sleeve Notes

Welcome to Pig’s Ear’s fourth album. Here you’ll find an eclectic selection of songs from the British tradition, self-penned and others from some of our favourite word-smiths. We hope you enjoy the mix as much as we enjoy singing them – in pubs and clubs and bars. So grab a pint and join in!

1. Follow me up to Carlow, as oral tradition is wont to do, conflates the difficulties faced by Henry VIII and ‘our Lizzy’. It recalls the Tudor attempt to extend the English Pale. By 1500 this had shrunk to an area 50 miles by 30 around Dublin. Gerald Fitzgerald a.k.a. ‘Garret Og’, 9th Earl of Kildare, was Lord Deputy of Ireland under Henry VIII. His son, Thomas Fitzgerald, rebelled in 1534 in the mistaken belief his father had been executed. When papal support failed he surrendered to Lord Leonard Grey on promise of a pardon, but was betrayed and executed. Shane O’Neill was heir apparent to Con Bacach O’Neill, 1st Earl of Tyrone but, when passed over in favour of his bastard brother Matthew, he too rebelled. After a shaky reconciliation with Elizabeth I failed, the O’Neills attacked the O’Donnells and their Scots kinsmen, the MacDonnells, and intrigued with Spain and Mary Queen of Scots. In 1566 the rebels were beaten back from the Dublin Pale. Shane O’Neill was murdered by the MacDonnells, with English connivance. Sir William Fitzwilliam a.k.a. ‘Black Fitzwilliam’ played a crucial part against the O’Neill and, as Governor of Fotheringhay Castle, presided over the execution of Mary Queen of Scots. Complicated, isn’t it?

2. White Owl was written by that great contemporary writer of ‘songs in the tradition’, Maria Cunningham, whom first we met at the Seaford Folk Club. If you’ve been lucky enough to see the white wraith that is a barn owl, or to hear the faint susurration of an owl’s wings as it drifts low overhead, you’ll know exactly the image Maria was hoping to conjure up. Thankfully barn owl numbers have risen somewhat in recent years, especially in areas where farmers have been persuaded to leave unploughed headlands sufficiently wide to encourage the voles and mice on which the owls feed.

3. Koz, our wizard sound engineer, reckons Pig’s Ear has invented a new genre – ‘suburban folk’! As a young girl, Sue grew up in Lower Addiscombe Road, Croydon, just opposite Ashburton Park, a municipal recreation ground. Ashburton Summer Show recalls the 1950s and 60s when the annual agricultural show still formed a link between ‘the country’ and ‘the town’, and continued the ‘dig for Victory’ ethos of the war years. One end of the park was dedicated to pigs (what else?), sheep and cattle. Two huge marquees contained entries to the flower and vegetable show, while beyond were stalls, a ring for show-jumping, sideshows and a funfair. Although the foot and mouth epidemic of 1969 put a stop to the livestock events, the Croydon Summer Show continues the tradition to this day. We’ve played there; and it’s been interesting to sing this song to Old Croydonians who share Sue’s fond memories of a towny’s day out and to Kentish farmers who remember bringing stock to town for the show.

4. Fhir a Bata is a traditional Gaelic song from the Hebrides. We hope you will like our arrangement, which we think very evocative. It brings to mind the image of the poor lass standing on a wet and wind-swept hillside, forever peering out across the grey seas, wondering and waiting for a love lost to the waves. A sad picture and one that brings home the difficulties and dangers that even today are faced by those who make a living at sea. Apparently, the world’s merchant fleet still loses a ship every week, and this doesn’t include many smaller fishing boats. Galleys or ‘longships’ were used for centuries in the seas around Scotland and the Western Isles; so think of the bass drum sound as a heartbeat, or the rowers of an open curragh-like fishing boat keeping time as they drive their craft through the Atlantic waves.

5. An English myth supposes that excessive mourning disturbs the rest of the dead, and if a bereft lover mourns for their lost love at the graveside for a year and a day, the dead will return for one last kiss. Yeuk! Just because it’s traditional, doesn’t make it wholesome! Feasting and dancing, a proper wake in fact, is more our idea of a funeral. The Unquiet Grave, collected by H.E.D. Hammond in 1906 from Mrs. Jane Hann of Stoke Abbot in Dorset, tells the tale of a necrophiliac lover who successfully recalls his truelove – but the risen corpse has more sense than the living, it seems. This is Pig’s Ear’s attempt to jump onto Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s gothic horror bandwagon.

6. The Fall and Rise of Cousin John, is the true tale of an event that occurred at The Shipwright’s Arms, Hollowshore, near Faversham, one Spring Bank Holiday ‘Folk Ale’ in May 1999. In the USA they’d sue, here we write a song about it! Clearly, there’s little point expecting sympathy if you’re ‘wounded in action’ when supporting Pig’s Ear! We’ll just cash in on the entertainment value of your misfortunes instead! Keith wrote the words and tune for this one and all of Pig’s Ear would like to express our heartfelt thanks to John Rule and to all other members of the ‘clan’ that have supported us over the years. If any more of our relatives would like to participate in some memorable incident on which we can base a song, please tip us off in advance, so we can get paper and pencil ready!

7. “Tie a yellow handkerchief, in remembrance of me,” says the lass in Flash Company. Yellow being the traditional colour denoting faithfulness. But there is another tradition that links the colour yellow with disease and fever. Yellow was (and still is) the colour of the flag flown by ships in quarantine, by military hospitals and ambulances, and was shown by those suffering from contagion. Before the advent of penicillin, the general populace were in dread of disease, and most families would have suffered the loss of one or more members, if only of some small child that never made it over the hurdles of childhood ailments. Adults went in fear of ‘the pox’. Venereal disease, especially syphilis, was endemic and the supposed ‘cures’ were to be feared as much as the disease! Flash Company tells of a life of profligacy and promiscuity gone wrong. The words and tune were collected by H. Gardiner in 1906 from Job Read in Southampton, although Gardiner suggests it was originally based on an Irish tune.

8. Another unfaithful love is the subject of Cyril Tawney’s 1958 classic Sally Free and Easy. In this case, one can imagine it is a young sailor, perhaps on his first voyage to foreign parts, who is smitten, only to find, like many another, that the subject of his affections is not exactly a ‘truelove’. The guy sounds really confused; it’s clear he doesn’t think the girl is a harlot, but just unthinkingly cruel. That’s sufficient, it seems, to drive the sailor to consider drowning himself. He still sounds naïve, if he thinks suicide will make the girl overcome with remorse. I guess this is the eternal heartache of the lovelorn adolescent male, when faced by the unfathomable female’s failure to respond in kind. “I know! I’ll kill myself! That’ll teach her!” Oh no it won’t, Brother! This song has been included in the Pig’s Ear repertoire for quite a few years now, but previously our arrangement has included only Sue, Keith and Grant. For this recording, Lyndsey has added her voice.

9. In days of yore it was hardly safe for an able-bodied man to walk the streets in southern England. The Recruiting Sergeant and his squad roamed the highways and byways seeking canon-fodder prepared to sign their lives away for ‘the King’s shilling’. Even worse, the Royal Navy relied on the press gang to replace sailors lost through disease, maltreatment and warfare. The Press didn’t bother with any of the niceties, but simply made any likely lads an offer they really could not refuse. Commercial captains were not above similar tactics and many a man was ‘shanghaied’ into a sailor’s life. Plenty of others fell foul of the ‘economic press gang’ of penury. The Reluctant Mariner is a jolly tale of one such poor blighter. It is a cautionary tale, written by Keith to debunk any romantic notions about seafaring in the days of wooden walled sailing ships. However, it sounds as if we’re getting far too serious, so the sing-along-a-pig chorus has the flavour of a Boy Scout ‘Gang Show’. There’s also something of the pantomime archetype about a certain character appearing in the last verse! Ah ha! Me hearties! Now don’t ye knock it all back at once!

10. Grant learnt Dainty Davie from the singers at ‘Elsie’s’ at the Queens Arms, Cowden Pound, later to find the song originated with the great Scottish poet, Robert Burns (1759-1796). Puritan austerity had ravaged Scottish folk song which had become degraded in decency and literary quality. Burns regarded the rescue of this national inheritance as a vocation. The fact that Burns had personally suffered from the discipline of the Kirk probably added fire to his attacks and rendered him an important force in the theological liberation of Scotland. He supplied Johnson’s ‘Musical Museum’ and George Thomson’s collection of Scottish airs with much material but, as few of the traditional songs were thought sufficiently polite for a respectable publication, Burns found it necessary to make them over. Dainty Davie was documented in Dumfries in 1793, where he had obtained a position in the Excise. Burns had a certain reputation with the ladies, and his debauchery was increased by the drudgery of his Excise work. We’ll leave interpretation of Burn’s intended meaning as an exercise for the listener, but bear in mind… in lowland Scots dialect, the word ‘pow’ can refer to a head of curly hair… and in another poem, Recitativo, Burns wrote, “But hurchin Cupid shot a shaft, That play’d a dame a shavie, The fiddler rak’d her, fore and aft, Behint the chicken cavie. Her lord, a wight of Homer’s craft, Tho’ limpin wi’ the spavie, He hirpl’d up, an’ lap like daft, An’ shor’d them Dainty Davie.” Burns is, perhaps, “a poet perhaps overrated in Scotland and underrated in England”, but it seems folk musicians owe at least as much to Burns as they do to folk like Cecil Sharp.

11. For centuries, dating at least from the days of the kingdoms of Strathclyde, Deira and Bernicia, the Scottish border country was plagued by lawlessness. It was subject first to warfare between the different tribes, raids from the likes of the Susunnachs and the vikings, and then to the tussles between the great estate owners as they argued over who should oppress the working people. Such an environment breeds a culture of blood feud and revenge killings, a number of which have provided subject matter for folk song. Twa Corbies is an imagined conversation between two black scavengers as they eagerly prepare to clean up the evidence from some murder or a raid by the Border Reivers. The words are traditional in Scotland but the tune is based on an ancient Breton melody Al Alar’ch, ‘The Swan’. The words were originally set to this tune by R.M. Blythman of Thurso and printed in Norman Buchan’s 101 Scottish Songs.

12. The Juice of the Barley was vaguely known to Keith and Grant since childhood, from the singing of Val Doonican (Good Grief!) whose TV show in the 1960s was a favourite with our Mum. We’ve since discovered it was arranged and adapted by Liam Clancy in 1963, probably based on a traditional Irish tune. Keith eventually interpreted the Gaelic phrase in the refrain while studying a map of the coastline around the Giant’s Causeway, Co. Antrim. Translations of quaintly named coastal features gave all the clues necessary to decode the words of the song. The refrain ‘banyan na mo if an ganna’ means, The milk of the cow is for the calf’… and the juice of the barley for me!

13. A 14th century reference to Edenbridge records a house and land owned by one Joane or Johann Robyns, a minstrel, in the days of Richard II when minstrels, somewhat akin to tabloid editors today, were folk with considerable influence. This one was sufficiently well off to be able to donate the house and an adjacent property to one Walter Asschombe, whose family remained in possession at least until 1471. However, the house in question, sited at what was once a Roman crossroads, was referred to as ‘Joane Robyns’ for nearly four centuries, becoming a local landmark. Inspired by a publication of the Edenbridge Historical Society, Sue wrote John Robyns to celebrate the opening of Edenbridge Town Museum in 2000. Minstrel’s Cottage and Wicken Cottage, adjoining houses now standing on Joane Robyns’ original property, are opposite the office where Sue has her ‘day job’. They date, at least in parts, to the 15th century. Here in later years lived John Sales, a carpenter, maker of flock mattresses and baker. He was a musician too and played a hurdy-gurdy in and around Edenbridge… he even had a monkey to enliven his act! This much loved local character had the unfortunate habit of baking bread while nude, in response to the heat from his rather inefficient inglenook ovens and to save cleaning his clothes! The house stands at a busy road junction, the kitchen is at the front of the house, and from horse-drawn carriages with the advantage of elevation, passers-by were liable to see a little more than they wished!

14. The song Fare Thee Well Enniskillen is based on a traditional Irish tune, while the words were composed by Tommy Makem in 1963. It talks of the Inniskilling Dragoons as if they served in the Penninsula War against Napoleon in Spain, but they never were there. The writer probably found the word ‘dragoons’ easier to rhyme than ‘fussiliers’, and we can certainly sympathise. Poetic license, okay? Nevertheless, our ‘mole’ at the Victorian Military Society tells us it was the Inniskilling Fussiliers who distinguished themselves in the Penninsula. The Inniskilling Dragoons were, however, at Waterloo in 1815 when, with the First Royal Dragoons and the Scots Greys, they famously charged. This was an act they were to repeat victoriously during the Crimean War, in the charge of the Heavy Brigade at Balaclava in 1854. The regiment is the proud possessor of eight Victoria Crosses.

15. One of Sue’s attempts at a bagpipe tune, the plaintive sound of The Last Hunt gave rise to images of lonely wind-swept moors and mountains, and then in turn to a suitable set of words. Whatever the rights and wrongs, from time immemorial hunting has been a factor that has shaped the British countryside, the people that live in it and their music. It is the countryside, the high, heather-covered and lonely places, that this song commemorates, with only a passing snipe at the ‘high-horsed Lord’. Perhaps this is the only lament written before its subject is actually dead… predictive folk as well as suburban folk! How many new trends can Pig’s Ear start in one album? We haven’t quite yet worked out how to get Lyndsey to play both the Northumbrian smallpipes and the oboe at the same time in a live performance, but we’re working on it…

16. We Will Sing! written by Keith, is Pig’s Ear’s response to the parliamentary debate of the so-called ‘2 in a bar’ entertainment law. We take this personally, because it limits the number of folk venues prepared to host a four-piece band. One folk club, which had the previous week had a visit from the local council ‘jobsworth’, insisted we perform as a series of solos or duos, or not at all. It was surprising how many pigmutations we managed! The words have been revised in the light of proposed legislation that seems likely to make matters worse, by introducing what amounts to a ‘none in a bar’ law! The apparent intention is that every publican will have to plan ahead and include the desire to host live music when they apply for or renew their license. Any impromptu sessions will be illegal, leaving the publican open to a fine of as much as £20,000! Ridiculous! But as some bright spark in the House of Commons was heard to observe, “Only about 5% of the population are interested in the kind of live music played in bars”, so changing the law is hardly a very significant vote-winner, is it? If perchance you disagree, write to your MP! The lyrics for the chorus started life in a back-row of Nellie’s Folk Club, at The Hilden Manor, Tonbridge. The song was debuted at The Red Lion ‘Folk Ale’, at Baddlesmere on 25th August 2002. The recorded version has a mock-live presentation, to suit the subject matter. Perhaps, if you participated in that other popular ‘Folk Ale’ at The Shipwright’s Arms, Hollowshore in May 2001, you contributed to the ‘hubbub’. Oh! The wonders of modern science.