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Four British Folk-songs

Word count: 553

Song Cycle by Hans Gál (1890 - 1987)

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1. Early one morning [ sung text not yet checked against a primary source]

Language: English

Translation(s): FIN

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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • FIN Finnish (Suomi) (Erkki Pullinen) , copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Early one morning, just as the sun was rising,
I heard a maid sing in the valley below.
"Oh, don't deceive me, oh, never leave me,
How could you use a poor maiden so?"

"O gay is the [garland, fresh]2 are the roses
I've culled from the garden to bind on thy brow.
O don't deceive me, O do not leave me!
How could you use a poor maiden so?

Remember the vows that you [made]1 to your Mary,
Remember the bow'r where you vowed to be true.
"Oh, don't deceive me, oh, never leave me.
How could you use a poor maiden so!"

Thus sung the poor maiden, her sorrow bewailing,
Thus sung the poor maid in the valley below;
"O don't deceive me! O do not leave me!
How could you use a poor maiden so?"


View original text (without footnotes)
1 Tippett: "gave"
2 Tippett: "garland and"

Submitted by Emily Ezust [Administrator]

2. An Eriskay love lilt [ sung text checked 1 time]

Language: English after the Scots Gaelic

Translation(s): GER

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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):


Vair me o ro van o; 
Vair me o ro ven ee; 
Vair me o ru o ho. 
I am sad without thee.  

When I'm lonely, dear heart, 
Black the night and the sea, 
By love's light my foot finds 
The way to thee.  

Vair me o ro van o; 
Vair me o ro ven ee; 
Vair me o ru o ho. 
Sad I am without thee.  

O music of my heart, 
O harp of joy, 
Moon of guidance by night, 
Strength and light to me.  

Vair me o ro van o; 
Vair me o ro ven ee; 
Vair me o ru o ho. 
I am sad without thee.


Submitted by Malcolm Wren [Guest Editor] and Eva Fox-Gal

3. O can ye sew cushions [ sung text not yet checked against a primary source]

Language: English

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O can ye sew cushions and can ye sew sheets,
And can ye sing ballulow when the bairn greets?
And hie and baw, birdie, and hie and baw, lamb,
And hee and baw, birdie, my bonnie wee lamb.

Hie-o, wie-o, what will I do wi' ye?
Black's the life that I lead wi' ye,
Many o' you, little for to gi' ye,
Hie-o, wie-o, what will I do wi' ye?

I've placed my cradle on yon hilly top,
And aye as the wind blew my cradle did rock.
O hush-a-by, babie, O baw lily loo,
And hee and baw, birdie, my bonnie wee doo.


Submitted by Ted Perry

4. Ye banks and braes [ sung text checked 1 time]

Language: Scottish (Scots) after the Scottish (Scots)

Translation(s): GER

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The text shown is a variant of another text.

It is based on

  • a text in Scottish (Scots) by Robert Burns (1759 - 1796), "The Banks o' Doon", subtitle: "[Second version]" FRE GER IRI
      • This text was set to music by the following composer(s): Percy Aldridge Grainger, Roger Quilter. Go to the text.

See other settings of this text.


Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, 
how can you bloom so fresh and fair? 
How can ye chaunt, ye little birds, 
and I'm so weary, full of care?  
Ye'll break my heart, ye warbling birds  
that wanton on the flow'ry thorn,  
ye mind me o' departed joys,  
departed, never to return.  

Oft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon, 
to see the rose and woodbine twine. 
And ilka bird sang o' its love, 
and fondly sae did I o' mine.  
With lightsome heart I pu'd a rose 
fu' sweet upon its tree. 
But my false lover stole my rose, 
and ah! he left the thorn wi' me.


Submitted by Malcolm Wren [Guest Editor] and Eva Fox-Gal

4. Du liebe Flur im Seengrund [ sung text checked 1 time]

Language: German (Deutsch) after the Scottish (Scots)

Authorship


Based on
Based on
  • a text in Scottish (Scots) by Robert Burns (1759 - 1796), "The Banks o' Doon", subtitle: "[Second version]" FRE GER IRI
      • This text was set to music by the following composer(s): Percy Aldridge Grainger, Roger Quilter. Go to the text.

See other settings of this text.


Du liebe Flur im Seengrund,
warum blühst du so morgenschön?
Du Vogel, sag, was jubelst du,
wenn ich vor Kummer muß vergehn?
Du Sänger hoch im Blütendorn,
mir bricht das Herz dein jauchzend Lied.
Du weckst in mir die frohe Zeit,
die doch für ewig, ewig schied.

Ich lauschte oft im Seengrund
in Lieb und Lust dem Vogelsang,
am Weg, wo Ros' und Rebe wuchs
im Dorngerank sich fest umschlang.
Doch, als ich eine Rose brach
im Wald der Vogel warnend rief.
Falsch Lieb stahl meine Rose mir,
und ließ den Dorn im Herzen tief.


Submitted by Malcolm Wren [Guest Editor] and Eva Fox-Gal

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